By Ariaratnam Gobikrishna –

Ariaratnam Gobikrishna MD

The recent arrival of the Cricket World Cup in the USA in my neck of the woods reignited a childhood enthusiasm I thought had faded. Cricket, the sport that once captured my imagination with its intricate blend of skill, strategy, and sportsmanship, suddenly felt alive again. As I watched the games unfold, a familiar thrill resurfaced—a connection to the “gentleman’s game” that had shaped so much of my early childhood and formative years.

But on second thought, the moniker itself—”the gentleman’s game”—began to unravel in my mind, raising uncomfortable questions about whether cricket is truly what it claims to be, or if I had been swept up in a romanticized version that I’m now hesitant to let go of. Reflecting on its history and the legacy it carries, I find myself questioning whether the title “gentleman’s game” holds up under scrutiny. After all, the sport was spread across the world by colonial powers who used it as a tool of control, keeping many on the sidelines for far too long. Can a game with such a past truly be considered a model of fairness and integrity? I wondered.

In the spirit of “see no evil,” I decided to focus on the goodness that has emerged from cricket, regardless of whether we continue to call it a “gentleman’s game.” Cricket, for all its complexities, has a unique power to bring people together, often bridging divides that seem insurmountable in other arenas.

Consider the moments in history when warring nations have found common ground through cricket. In 1900, England and France—nations with a long and contentious history—played at the Paris Olympics. In the colonial era, English and Dutch settlers found themselves on the same cricket fields in distant lands, creating a rare space where their shared love for the game transcended their imperial rivalries.

In more recent times, the cricketing rivalry between India and Pakistan stands as a testament to the sport’s ability to foster connection even amid deep political tensions. While diplomacy often falters, the cricket pitch has become a place where the two nations meet, not as enemies, but as competitors bound by a shared passion. The intensity of these matches, watched by millions, reveals how cricket can act as a unifying force, offering a glimpse of what is possible when adversaries engage in peaceful competition rather than conflict.

In the early days of Indian cricket under British rule, a remarkable story emerged that hinted at the power of the sport to challenge deeply entrenched social hierarchies. One of the first Indian cricketers to gain recognition for his bowling prowess—particularly in the nascent art of spin bowling—was a member of the Dalit community, traditionally marginalized in Indian society. Palwankar Baloo, initially a groundskeeper, was used by the English for batting practice. However, his undeniable talent quickly propelled him to the position of vice-captain in a local cricket team composed of high-caste Indians.

The dynamics within the team were telling. The Brahmin captain would deliberately leave the field, forcing Palwankar Baloo to step in and take charge. The man who had once been excluded was eventually allowed to sit among his high-caste teammates during lunch breaks. This act, though small, was a vivid sign of the winds of change—an inkling of equality breaking through the rigid caste barriers that had defined Indian society for centuries.

Cricket’s role as a catalyst for social change is further underscored by the story of Basil D’Oliveira, a mixed-race South African cricketer who faced exclusion in his own country due to the harsh realities of apartheid. Denied the opportunity to play in South Africa, he found a place in England, where the more liberal attitudes of the time allowed him to showcase his talents. His story resonated across the world, symbolizing the growing opposition to apartheid and highlighting the injustices faced by non-white races in South Africa. This global attention contributed to the mounting pressure that ultimately led to the end of apartheid and the rise of Nelson Mandela to power.

Cricket, despite its blemishes and controversies, has repeatedly shown the strength and tenacity to evolve and adapt. Whether it was the notorious “bodyline” bowling that targeted the great Don Bradman, leading to new rules on bouncers and the introduction of body armor and helmets, or the push for fair pay for professional players that emerged from the tumultuous Packer era, or the strict punishments that followed match-fixing scandals, cricket has found ways to extricate itself from even the most challenging situations.

The controversy surrounding Kerry Packer, in particular, marked a turning point in the history of the game. Initially vilified for his bold innovations, Packer’s introduction of television broadcasting, colorful clothing, night games, and the white-ball limited-overs format breathed new life into a sport that was beginning to feel out of step with the times. What traditionalists decried as the loss of cricket’s art and soul, others saw as a much-needed revitalization of a game that had become increasingly impractical for the fast-paced lives of the modern era—an era without the luxury of servants and the slow rhythms of colonial life.

As a Sri Lankan, I can’t avoid discussing the recent controversy surrounding one of the greatest cricketers Sri Lanka has ever produced, Muttiah Muralitharan. Widely regarded as the best spinner of all time and the highest wicket-taker in cricket history, Muralitharan’s journey to the top was anything but straightforward. Despite coming from an affluent background, he belonged to the minority Indian Tamil community, which presented its own set of challenges. His rise was further complicated by accusations of “chucking” the ball, a controversy that threatened to derail his remarkable talent.

The debate over whether Muralitharan’s path was more arduous than that of Lasith Malinga is debatable, but his status as the most unparalleled bowler, representing a minority community during Sri Lanka’s protracted and bloody civil war, certainly adds a unique dimension to his story. Unfortunately, his legacy became tainted when he publicly supported the Sri Lankan government, which brutally crushed the Tamil minority’s armed struggle at a significant civilian cost.

Muralitharan could have been a hero and a symbol of reconciliation, much like his teammate Kumar Sangakkara, who remained neutral and respected by all sides. However, for reasons unknown, he chose to align himself with the government, which has led to his vilification among the global Tamil community. Despite his contributions to cricket, this alignment has overshadowed his achievements, leaving a legacy that is as contentious as it is celebrated.

The Tamil community, while recognizing his cricketing prowess, received his biopic with lukewarm interest, reflecting their conflicted feelings. In an era dominated by social media, where opinions are voiced instantly and often regretted later—in my opinion, in the same vein as “see no evil”—Muralitharan became a victim of his need to immediately express his relief when the guns finally fell silent. Rather than remaining quiet in the aftermath of a 25-year civil war, where both the LTTE and the government committed atrocities, Muralitharan’s outspoken support for the government felt jarring to many in the Tamil community—those who had suffered immensely during the conflict and found themselves on the losing side.

Returning to the controversial moniker, in the modern era of women’s cricket, the term “gentleman’s game” is increasingly outdated, particularly from a semantic perspective. Moreover, the fervent and passionate participation of female spectators in India today starkly contrasts with the reserved demeanor of their Victorian predecessors. Cricket, often viewed as the sole monotheism in a land of polytheistic traditions, now finds its highest shrine in the IPL (Indian Premier League). Once, the Ashes represented cricket’s pinnacle, followed by English county cricket and World Test Cricket; today, the IPL stands as the sport’s high priest, without which cricket might risk slipping into obscurity.

Finally, after a 128-year hiatus since 1900, both men’s cricket and women’s cricket—making its debut—will return to the Olympic roster in 2028. Interestingly, around the same time in 1900, cricket in America was overtaken by baseball. Now, with the upcoming Los Angeles Olympics in 2028, American cricket is poised for a resurgence. The game that the founding fathers of the United States once knew and played is once again gaining momentum and returning to the spotlight.