Media and the English Language
On the Ahmedabad Test, and asking better questions
Jonny Bairstow was dismissed before he took guard. On Thursday afternoon, under a softening Ahmedabad sun, Bairstow walked out from the dressing room with England 0/1 in the second innings. He had scored a first-ball duck in the first innings, dismissed by the same bowler standing across the pitch now. Axar Patel is tall and skiddy, had notched up twelve wickets in his last two innings and one ball, and possesses a mean arm ball - the most potent weapon on a spinning track.
The plan must have been clear for England - just scratch through to somewhere near 175 and give India 150-ish to chase. Their top scorer from the first innings was sent back on the first ball of this one. The first shot Bairstow plays in this situation is an expansive sweep that takes no cognisance of the line and length of the delivery. The ball hits his pad and the umpire gives him out. Technology saves him this time, merely delaying the inevitable. You cannot save a drowning man if he isn’t willing to grab the life-jacket.Â
Astronauts on the International Space Station could have predicted the next ball. Axar sends one that doesn't spin, Bairstow plays a loose forward defence, with a gap between the bat and pad where another bat could’ve existed, and the stumps are shattered. Jonny Bairstow played three balls in this Test match and was given out every time. He batted at three - arguably the most important batting position in Test cricket, the lane where all the greats of the game live.
This match lasted five sessions and five overs - the shortest, in terms of balls bowled, since World War II. The T20 match between Australia and New Zealand from Thursday morning saw more runs scored than this entire match.
As is always the case when matches get over within three days, never mind two, there was much outrage about the pitch. Was it good enough for Test cricket? Was it a disgrace? Is this kind of result a good look on the game? Apparently, everyone has an opinion that starts with "Test cricket is all about...".
The conversation about the pitch has lasted longer than the match. If you had anything to do with cricket last week, you were asked about the pitch. So was Ravichandran Ashwin, but he came prepared with a response.
This is an important video, because Ashwin has taken the leap from a cricketer who is supposed to listen to the questions and answer in line, to one egging the reporter into a conversation about his chosen topic. Virat Kohli has tried to do this before, but his bluster and rage can sometimes feel vindictive. Ashwin's was a riposte.
There has been a shift in the relationship between the media and players over the last two decades. The generations up till Tendulkar and Dravid were accessible and friendlier with journalists, sharing a joke here and there, and most importantly, willing to meet them at a table. There was an air of trust between the two sides of the microphone. The current generation is wary of reporters and journalists by default. I don't entirely blame them.
Over the last few years, as the hunger for TRP and spicier headlines has overtaken the search for information and knowledge, we seem to be losing the skill of questioning. We ask irrelevant questions and overreach in search of the next clickbait-y statement. An anchor at a popular Indian news channel asked Kapil Dev if he suggested that the current team is "stupid", when all Kapil said was, "there is a difference between courage and complacence." These kind of pointed questions are a feature of the modern press conference.
Virat Kohli knows the edges of these questions better than the edges of his bat. He has been the centre of many such headlines and misrepresentations. He is routinely poked at vulnerable moments because reporters know he might respond with fire. On the eve of this Test match, a reporter looked at the entire palette of questions he could ask India's most successful Test captain and one of the world's best batsmen, and chose one about Ishant Sharma's hair. Besides, Kohli is married to a Bollywood actress - a profession prone to clickbait every day of the week.
That Ashwin raised the question back to the reporter, in clear words, makes this conversation poignant. By suggesting that the pitch decided the match, you are underselling the work a cricketer has to put in. For every pitch that is friendlier to the bowlers, there are five that need them to toil for hours for a sliver of success. Jarrod Kimber recently wrote about how we all are rather English and Australian in evaluating cricket. The line of questioning, or reasoning, which suggests that a pitch shouldn't spin much on the first day falls into the same pit. There isn’t and - it cannot be stressed enough - should never be one single template for how pitches should behave.
The construction of the question itself was poor. In 1946, George Orwell wrote an essay called Politics and the English Language. Much of it spoke about how political discourse has adulterated the craft of written English, but Orwell repeatedly stressed on the importance of choosing the right word. Ashwin's response should nudge reporters towards choosing better language. That same question can sound remarkably different if you replace 'bad' with helpful or even spicy.
Thirdly, this should be a knock on those who choose the easy line of questioning. Even if you thought the pitch was bad - or too helpful - you can ask Ashwin enough questions about the cricket. For instance, you could ask him about the changes in his bowling plans given the pitch and the pink ball, or how he thought the English batsmen dealt with the skid and spin, or whether the weight of the ball could have led to some extra zip off the pitch. These questions are guaranteed to elicit a detailed response from a keen student of the game.
But then, are you looking to know more or print more? If you build your questions like Jonny Bairstow approached Axar Patel at Ahmedabad, someone will put one past your defences and you are going to look very silly.
Insightful as always Sarthak..