I sympathise with subeditors who have to craft different ways to convey the latest news of sports victories and defeats in headlines that are both brief and informative, especially during tournaments where renowned players and teams contend for national and personal honours. When Don Bradman was playing an important test match in England in 1930, against the sworn rivals, the MCC, he’d made an unbeaten century by the end of a day’s play, much to the admiring chagrin of the Brits. A newspaper conceded the feat with the headline, “The Don flows on”, alluding to the Russian river.
Indians are crazy about cricket, though few schools had playgrounds to let children mark out a pitch with three stumps. As a boy, my interest was roused by the Nawab of Pataudi’s team playing in Britain in 1946. I was thrilled by the feats of Merchant, Hazare, Mankad, Mushtaq Ali and others and sorrowed when they were out cheaply. I collected Jack Fingleton’s racy reports and pasted them in used arithmetic notebooks. I also twiddled with our Murphy radio knobs, straining to hear commentaries, mostly inaudible but tantalising. In those pre-TV days, the mannered drawl of a commentator Vizzy, an ex-maharaja, captivated us. Our hostel mimics amused us with Vizzy-witty parodies of our lecturers at annual events, interspersed with harmonica renditions of filmi geet by Lata, Rafi and Tamil singers.
I still eagerly turn to the sports pages of the morning paper. A pity it is that papers have to cramp the scorecard to save space. Here are some sport headlines which pander to an unconscious streak of sadism in readers and spectators. “Nadal eases into the semi-final”. If the tennis champ “cruises in” or “waltzes” past the finalist (Federer in his day) and wins the cup, the loser may have “crashed out”. “India thrash P-New Guinea”, but is this less cruel than “a thumping win” or “Johnson crushes Proteas”? Our young tennis star Somdev politely “tides over” Del Porto in Dubai. Even gentler is a team that “annexes” a title without inflicting injury.
A “big win” anywhere is fine, but surely it is unsporting to “humiliate” the losers when a victory lap round the stadium followed by feasting is the accepted mode of celebration.
At college in old Madras, we respected sportsmen no less than those brainy, bookish “mug-pots” who topped the lists in exams and became minions of bureaucracy. Sterling Road would resound with the drumbeats of our bus by hands that won the match in an inter-collegiate basketball or football tourney and the cry: “Who won? We won”, with fans and players proclaiming their victories in live broadcasting. No firecrackers, no frothing bubbly bottles: at best, a “savoury” plus a “halva” at dinner as a treat.
We are right to encourage sports, which teach us that victory and defeat are slices of life which must be endured, so that we can strive to play to our strength. To quote John Milton, “Peace hath her victories, no less renowned than wars.”