The theatre of the absurd at the Asia Cup

The Asia Cup, it seems, has become less a tournament of cricket than a theatre of the absurd.

Pakistan, still brooding after their encounter with India, considered refusing to take the field against the UAE. Not for cricketing reasons, but for the delicate matter of a handshake. The boycott, had it gone through, would have carried a cost — more than 12 million dollars lost in revenues.

The protest was directed at Andy Pycroft, the match referee, whose crime, in Pakistan’s eyes, was to have failed in the business of etiquette. Yet Pycroft is custodian of the game’s laws, not of its pleasantries. He governs the crease, not the clasp of hands. To demand his dismissal was not an argument of reason but of theatre, the sort of play-acting that turns administrators into actors in a comedy too long in rehearsal.

It was, in spirit, the tantrum of a child denied ice cream. The danger was not that Pakistan would go without a dessert, but that it would go without its livelihood. As the morning wore on, stories spread of a team still in its hotel, of sanctions that might follow, of their place in the councils of cricket at risk. In the end, they did appear, though late, their sulk intact but their earnings preserved.

The “Spirit of Cricket,” so often invoked, was once about respect freely given. Here it was invoked to excuse pique. The sermon outstripped the practice.

For those who grew up in the gullies, this is a familiar play. The boy who owned the bat determined whether the game continued. His satisfaction was the condition of play. Today, on the wider stage, it is little different. The bat of the ICC rests with India with Jay Shah- the willow of the ACC with Pakistan with Naqvi. And all the while, the game itself — the bowling, the batting, the joy of contest — is reduced to a pawn in the quarrel.

There was a time when cricket reached beyond politics, beyond grievance, to the rhythm of ball against bat, the applause of a crowd, the dignity of contest. At the Asia Cup, it is instead reduced to boardroom bickering and petulant gestures.

And so, once more, cricket waits. The field is ready, the game anxious to be played. But in the hands of those who govern, it remains hostage to power, ego, and the endless theatre of the absurd.