Rivalries are the lifeblood of sport, yet the biggest talking points over the last few weeks centred around a contest that, the Indian T20I captain believes, ceased to be one a long time ago.
India’s near-complete dominance over Pakistan in both white-ball formats over the past decade or more – the neighbours last played a Test match against each other 18 years ago – has ensured that the excitement over an upcoming game is less about the sporting strengths and weaknesses of the two outfits than about geopolitical tensions, political overtones, celebratory gestures, and issues that go far beyond the field of play.
Hence, it was somehow fitting that even after India defeated Pakistan on the third successive Sunday to win the Asia Cup, they had no silverware to show for it. Mohsin Naqvi, the Asian Cricket Council chief who is also the interior minister of Pakistan, wanted to hand over the trophy himself, while the Indian team was adamant in not accepting it from him in the aftermath of the Pahalgam terror attack and Operation Sindoor, and also some provocative posts he had made on social media about the skirmish between the two countries in May.
Now, the victorious team has to get the trophy, but there’s nothing sacrosanct written anywhere about who can hand it over. One has seen a top political dignitary handing over the silverware after a big final even if they didn’t hold a sporting designation. Prime Minister Narendra Modi gave away the 2023 World Cup trophy to Australia (ironically, after they had beaten India in the final at a stadium named after him), and then-Pakistan Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto did likewise when Sri Lanka became the 1996 champions.
Naqvi had the option of stepping aside and allowing someone else to do the honours in Dubai, but that would have required a show of magnanimity and big-heartedness that would seem out of place in the present environment marked by churlish behaviour.
This pettiness by players and administrators is contrasted by the general bonhomie between the two sets of supporters in the stands, but things may change in the near future, if they follow the examples set by the people who matter.
A better example
If this ‘rivalry’ made news for all the wrong reasons, another one – a purely sporting one – played out over the last weekend just outside New York.
The Ryder Cup as a contest is almost a century old and predates the Partition of the subcontinent – believed to be at the root of all the animosity between the nations – by 20 years. It arouses passions among the faithful on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, but any instance of abuse or bad sportsmanship – by the players or the galleries – is frowned upon. But it doesn’t dampen the intensity on the golf course one little bit.
So when American fans, watching as the European dominance continued session after session, got out of line and heckled Rory McIlroy, the talisman of the visiting contingent, and his teammates with some offensive comments and behaviour, it was his opponent Justin Thomas who asked the Bethpage Black crowd to calm down.
And it was Tom Watson, one of the most revered figures in golf, who congratulated the European team and apologized for the boorish conduct of some of his American compatriots. The top officials of the PGA of America had to get into fire-fighting mode and do likewise when the backlash got too substantial to ignore.
However, some caveats are in order. Golf, especially in the so-called First World, isn’t as intertwined with national identity and pride as cricket in the subcontinent. Defeat is considered a sporting disappointment, not a national (or continental) embarrassment. India and Pakistan have gone to war on several occasions since 1947, and before the utterances and policies emanating from the Donald Trump administration, the United States and Europe (at least the parts represented in the Ryder Cup) were considered on the same side of the geopolitical divide.
Also, the top players in the world have played so much with and against each other on the professional tours that the familiarity nips any long-term animosity in the bud. In contrast, Pakistan players are not allowed in the Indian Premier League and the two teams only face off in multilateral tournaments, taking the stakes and hype overboard even though the actual cricket on offer rarely touches great heights.
The women’s clash
Now, with the women’s teams representing the two countries meeting each other in a 50-over World Cup game in Colombo (on another Sunday, surprise, surprise!), the usual – and by now, tiresome – chatter over handshakes and body language has started all over again. That there is a wide gulf in class between these two sides as well ensures that the debate is not about the skills of Smriti Mandhana, Harmanpreet Kaur, Jemimah Rodrigues, Richa Ghosh and Deepti Sharma in comparison to their less-heralded Pakistani counterparts, makes this line of discussion easier.
A lot of water has flown under the bridge and it’s too precious now to argue that sport and politics shouldn’t be mixed. Truth be told, the political and historical angle has had a lot to do to make India-Pakistan contests a magnet for eyeballs and publicity, even when the quality of the fare isn’t much to write home about, as was often seen in the recent Asia Cup.
The Real Madrid-Barcelona rivalry – played out in the El Clasico – is a big sporting phenomenon and has its roots in Spanish politics and history. But it’s often the highest level of football one could hope to watch, and generates avid interest and following throughout the world.
The Ryder Cup and The Ashes in cricket are rivalries steeped in history. But they also include moments when the contest rises to showcase the best in sport, and humanity in general.
Anybody with a little knowledge of golfing history would know about The Concession (when Jack Nicklaus conceded a short putt that Tony Jacklin had to make on the final hole of the final match, ensuring that the Ryder Cup match ended in a draw). “I don’t think you would have missed it, but I wasn’t going to give you the chance, either,” were the immortal words of the Golden Bear, setting a gold standard for sportsmanship.
Similarly, Andrew Flintoff’s arm around Brett Lee’s shoulders at the end of the Edgbaston Test in the 2005 Ashes will be talked about as long as the game is played. Empathy with the opponent and mutual respect doesn’t hamper the competitive edge, but makes it more meaningful. That’s what made the Roger Federer-Rafael Nadal rivalry one for the ages.
It may not be possible to ignore events off the field, but sport is touted as representing the best in humanity. Bad behaviour, by anyone, has no place in a sporting arena. Unless that’s ensured in India-Pakistan games, Suryakumar Yadav will be proved right: there is no rivalry, only acrimony.