Published: Apr 10, 2016, 02:22 PM (IST)
Edited: Apr 11, 2016, 10:58 AM (IST)
It came as a shock to the cricket fraternity, and I was no exception. It immediately prompted me to write down a letter. READ: IPL 2016: Harsha Bhogle’s IPL 9 contract terminated by BCCI
Dear Harsha:
I write to you today, not as Editor of a cricket website, but as a person who has been following cricket for three decades now, and considers you the best cricket commentator India has produced, at least over the past three decades.
You were always different, Harsha. Unlike some of your colleagues and contemporaries (trust me, one of them paused after each syllable while reading out the name of SF Barnes, and he gets paid for commentating on air), you actually prepared yourself well. You were articulate, prepared, and well-conversed with the history as well as the present state of the sport.
In fact, at your pomp you were among the best of the era, even at global level. You came up with the classiest one-liners that left us awestruck. Who would have thought of “Open the textbook, turn to page 32” while describing a textbook drive from Sachin Tendulkar? Or “I think he’s waiting for tomorrow’s newspaper to declare him out” when Michael Clarke did not walk after being caught at slip, Sydney, 2007-08? Or “looks like Suarez was here!” to describe a worn pitch? Or, well, one of my favourites… “Dhoni is extremely quick between the wickets and Ashwin… let’s just say he has other skills.”
There were times when we wanted to be Harsha, for you did what we had all dreamt of when we realised we were not that good at cricket. You shared stage with the greatest, and almost invariably came out on top. If they had ruled the twenty-two yards, you were the boss with the microphone: tongue-in-cheek, no-nonsense, always in control.
Now, after goodness-knows-how-many-years of sustained excellence, they have decided to leave you out of IPL for reasons known better to them. Maybe your English was too refined. Or maybe your sense of humour a tad too good.
IPL has worked for eight seasons. There is no reason to believe in the fact that it will not work for the 9th. Puritans abhor the league (as well as franchise-based counterparts across the world), but even they have come to terms with the fact that IPL will continue to have a window, and the show will go on. All they — we — do is console ourselves with the fact that thanks to the cash IPL brings in, domestic cricketers are now paid more, and former cricketers are better, way better looked-after.
But this time IPL will be without you. Trust me when it say this, IPL will not miss you, for it works on decibels. As is often the case with the world, a solitary voice speaking sense gets drowned if it counters the mayhem of noise, loud music, and monetised passion.
“If decibel level was a factor in winning a match, India won’t lose a single match ever,” you had once announced on air. That, sadly, is truer today than ever before, for everything in India — cricket or otherwise — seems to be determined by decibel levels these days.
But now, after this big blow, Harsha, I insist you take a decision. Get out of the brouhaha that clogs the international cricket calendar for a month. Work as a freelancer. Be the voice that talks of the cathedral when they show a panoramic view of Adelaide Oval; or the one that takes us through the history of Cape Town and Durban; or why there is nothing like watching cricket in Sabina Park, or Lord’s, or anywhere.
Do not lose your mastery over words. You are capable of coming up with “I’m sure you’ll never become a lawyer because I understand everything you say” the way you told Ian Chappell once. Do the unthinkable in Indian cricket — silence Sunil Gavaskar with “you almost got an orgasm there” — when he refuses to budge from a topic, droning on long enough to tempt us to switch channels.
You belong with the greatest, Harsha. Trust me when I say this, but I am speaking for thousands, maybe more, of cricket followers across the world. If you declare yourself available, international channels will pounce upon you with such ferocity that you may even have to consider going into hiding.
You were a class apart, Harsha. You still are. Do not give in to mediocrity. You can become the best the world. Offers will come and go. Standing the test of time, on the other hand, is not something all can achieve.
Rise to where you belong, Harsha. Somehow it is fitting that this happened on the first death anniversary of Richie Benaud, the voice that defined winter mornings for the Indian cricket fan for decades.
As for the how bit, you know that better than me, for you have been there, done that.
IPL offers come and go, Harsha. Given your stature, it is time to transcend the boundaries of geographical borders and conquer time.
Not many are gifted to do that, but you certainly are, Sir.
A well-wisher.
(Abhishek Mukherjee is the Chief Editor at CricketCountry and CricLife. He blogs here and can be followed on Twitter here.)
