Picture this. The World Cup Final at the MCG. Nearly 100,000 people sit enthralled in the brisk autumnal air as New Zealand try to chase down Australia’s formidable total. With a solitary ball remaining in the match, New Zealand are a measly one run behind. Kiwi captain Brendon McCullum is on 98 and facing a fired-up Josh Hazlewood. The crowd is on their feet and baying.
Bowling over the wicket, Hazlewood runs in and bowls a full ball on McCullum’s pads. The ball drifts in slightly, skids through and thuds into the batsman’s back pad before trickling away toward fine leg. McCullum and non-striker Corey Anderson scamper through for a run, ignoring the Aussies appealing for LBW. Umpire Marais Erasmus, as is his wont, takes his time to respond to the appeal. Finally, the finger is raised. McCullum is out for 98.
Amidst the frenzied noise, the New Zealand batsmen are too busy running and don’t realise that McCullum’s wicket has fallen. They see Glenn Maxwell chasing the ball and turn for a second run. Maxwell collects the ball, turns, sees his team-mates beginning to celebrate and nonchalantly tosses the ball to square leg umpire Richard Kettleborough. All-too-late, the Kiwis realise what has happened. The World Cup is Australia’s.
McCullum touches his bat behind the crease and immediately advances toward umpire Erasmus. He creates a ‘T’ with his arm and bat, signalling that he would like the decision reviewed. The umpire obliges and third umpire Kumar Dharmasena begins to review the footage. Sections of the otherwise delirious crowd boo.
Firstly, it is clear that Hazlewood’s foot is behind the popping crease. A legal delivery. A cheer from the stands. Dharmasena zooms in on the ball hitting the pad. McCullum’s bat passes awfully close to the ball. Perhaps too close. Close enough for an audible collective intake of breath from the capacity crowd. Dharmasena checks the infra-red cameras. In slow-motion the evidence is indisputable. An obvious white hot spot appears on the inside edge of McCullum’s bat the moment the ball passes by. The ball then hits the pad and disappears toward fine leg. The crowd sighs.
The New Zealanders begin to celebrate. McCullum and Anderson hug and jump, celebrating not only a World Cup victory, but a century to the captain. Recalling a similar incident, Australia’s captain Michael Clarke quickly walks toward umpire Erasmus signalling a dead ball. The International Cricket Council admitted that England’s James Anderson should not have been given out in similar circumstances in an earlier match. The ICC stated the ball is dead the moment the umpire signals that the batsman is out. The umpires confer. The crowd simmers.
Both sides have a case to make. New Zealand can rightfully claim they were unaware of the umpire’s decision as McCullum knew all along he had hit the ball. All the batsmen did was try to make the two runs required for victory. Umpires Dharmasena and Aleem Dar concluded similarly when they gave Anderson out in the group-stage match between Australia and England.
Equally, Australia’s Maxwell could comfortably claim he would have thrown the stumps down at either end had he believed the match was still alive. Maxwell’s claim would appear to be supported by the ICC’s statements following Australia and England’s game. They quite clearly stated the umpires had made an error and the ball should have been called dead the moment James Taylor was signalled out by Dar.
It is easy to blame the umpires. Marais Erasmus made a demonstrable error. He gave McCullum out when video evidence clearly shows that the batsman was not.
Admittedly the particulars of this hypothetical incident are somewhat fanciful. For a start, one of the sides would have to get past AB de Villiers’ South Africa to make the final. And would Dharmasena have been forgiven by the ICC for being involved in the ‘error’ earlier in the tournament? Be that as it may, the real problem in this incident and the incident involving Hazlewood, Anderson, Taylor and Maxwell in the opening round is the imposition of the Decision Review System.
India were widely ridiculed on Channel Nine’s test coverage this past summer for not allowing the use of the DRS. But there was little effort to debate the particulars of the system and how they apply in the game. There is no doubt that the ability to review decisions to eradicate umpiring howlers has some merit. But undermining the authority of the deliberating umpire causes havoc with a central tenet of any sport. Perhaps by trying to understand the Indian’s position, a better system could be implemented.
The most recent statement from the ICC would lead us to believe that Australia would win the World Cup in the given scenario. The dead ball was in fact not entirely deceased, but a dot. In limited overs cricket a dot ball has value. McCullum would board a plane and fly across the Tasman empty handed, knowing he had hit the winning runs in a World Cup final. Thanks for nothing DRS.
While the Australian summer has served up no end of sporting delights, I have been finding it difficult to be enthused. In a tragedy of Grecian proportions, I have found myself falling out of love with sport. The 2015 Australian Open was, objectively speaking, an entertaining competition with upsets, crowd favourites, home-grown heroes, veterans and upstarts. But I could barely watch a game. I love cricket in all forms. But the Big Bash League is the target of much of my derision. To my eyes, all professional sport has been corrupted by money, drugs and the desire to be “entertainment”. I am only seeing my love’s flaws, not that which made me fall in love.
Facing such a test of my ardour, a potential solution presented itself. Novak Djokovic served to Gilles Müller’s backhand. When Müller slapped the return past Djokovic’s forehand for a winner, the beaten Serb applauded. In terms of loving sport, there were two pertinent actions in this moment. Müller’s shot demonstrated the physical beauty in sport of executing a skill perfectly. And Djokovic’s sportsmanship highlighted the mutual respect that exists between opponents attempting to beat each other in a sporting contest. It is only fitting that a potential solution was highlighted in a sporting moment. Perhaps by focusing on the aspects deserving of my affection I could pull myself from the funk.
I turned up to pre-season footy training last week. In my 35th year I thought there was little that would surprise me as 20-odd guys gathered to prepare for the Central Australian Football League’s 2015 season. In the kick-to-kick before training, my partner kept trying to mark the ball with only his right hand. I inquired as to the health of his left only to be informed that it was functioning as normal. I was later told my kicking partner was on day release from a local institution. Although it crossed my mind that my new team-mate might not be the full box-and-dice, I considered his predicament. One thing that he must have missed about a free life was being able to go to footy training. Only sport could make him feel normal. And only sport could give him the sense of fun that must be entirely absent on the inside.
The Asian Cup was a revelation for Australian football. Preceding the event, much was made of how little it had captured the collective Australian imagination. That Australia was out of form and ranked beyond 100 in the world did not help. Fast-forward a couple of weeks and Australia won the final in extra time. The Socceroos appear to be a representative team that is devoid of personal ego. With the notable exception of Tim Cahill, the players seem to be low-profile. The player of the tournament was little-known Australian Massimo Luongo. They each perform their role within the team as best they can and seem to understand that representing Australia is a privilege that could end at any moment. Even this cynical Australian is proud to be represented on the field by a team such as this.
I am excited about the cricket World Cup which is about to begin in Australia and New Zealand. While interest in 50-over cricket has been declining rapidly, the World Cup is still a competition that teams genuinely want to win. And players genuinely want to play. In contrast to the BBL where retired “stars” cash in for the purposes of entertainment, the World Cup will only contain the very best players in the world. And those players are often at the peak of their powers. Sport is at its best when two high-quality opponents are doing their utmost to win. Each time India visits Australia for test matches, there is an asterisk next to the result for there is a widespread belief India only really care about tests in front of their home crowds. Certainly this will not be the case for any team during the World Cup.
In some corners, the Tour Down Under is criticised for not being the Tour Of Australia. While there is almost certainly better cycling in other states, the South Australian government created an event that the Australian cycling community loves. From humble beginnings in 1999, the event has grown due to its popularity with spectators and cyclists. On television the racing and scenery pales in comparison to the Tour de France, but evidently the live atmosphere is something to behold. A non-cycling person was in Adelaide coincidentally and somehow found themselves watching the People’s Choice Classic. They were impressed for two notable reasons – the speed at which the pros whipped around the circuit and the atmosphere they felt part of as a spectator. In an era of over-hyped events that fail to live up to the marketing, it is refreshing to see the Tour Down Under thrive organically.
Perhaps it was always to be this way. When my knowledge of sport progressed to include some unsavoury aspects, perhaps it was inevitable that my love would waver. Perhaps this has been the case with lovers of sport for millennia. (I can picture in my mind’s eye a cynical Bugler amongst the crowd in the Middle Ages, disappointed because the current crop of jousters don’t seem as authentic as those of his youth). Perhaps my method of focusing my attentions on the aspects that I love will be a success. More likely, my love will remain but will not be the same. But I also see love growing anew elsewhere. The mini-Bugler has begun to catch and throw. He identifies the cricket and tennis on television and watches enthralled by the players running, throwing and hitting. His will be a love that I encourage. For although my love is not the same, I will always recall the good times and know that sport was always worthy of love.
Increasingly, professional sporting bodies are agonising over the size of crowds. After over a decade of chasing the money associated with television rights, attention has returned to a simpler popularity measurement. This has led to commentators waxing lyrical about the relative merits of watching a particular sport on television as opposed to live. It has also meant a great deal of analysis about the “spectator experience”. But, as is their wont, most associated with a sport tend to focus more on the merits of their particular game and less on the social aspect of sport.
During the 1970s and 80s, cricket was enormously popular. World Series Cricket became a phenomenon thanks to the new and exciting limited-over version. Much is made of the brand of cricket being played, but little is said about the social circumstances of the time.
For those who were fortunate to own a coloured television, screens were small, reception was poor in areas, and the broadcast offered little extra for the viewer. It was relatively inexpensive to attend games and punters were allowed to bring their own food and drink. This made for a cheap, enjoyable and social afternoon and evening at a game of cricket.
Fast-forward 30 years and the social circumstances have changed dramatically. Televisions are relatively cheap and the quality of the image and sound has improved astronomically. Similarly, the broadcast contains numerous facts, replays, analysis that could overwhelm an occasional viewer.
Stadia the country over have become more draconian in their enforcement of regulations and restrictions. It is almost as though the sport-going public should feel privileged to be allowed in to watch a game of cricket live.
Put simply, it is much more enjoyable to pack a picnic and an esky and go to a friend’s house. You can watch the game in high definition on television and not have to put up with overly officious security at the few stadia allowed to host international cricket games in Australia. Consequently, it is increasingly the Australian way to host a BBQ in the backyard in summer with the cricket on a big screen rather than attend the game.
What is true of our summer sport is not so true of our winter sport. The average crowd at the footy in 1987 was just over 21,000. In 2010 this number had grown to 38,423. No doubt AFL honchos would conclude that their “product” is superior to cricket’s. But while it is enjoyable to sit on a grassed hill in summer and watch sport, watching footy in the cold, wet mud of winter is less so. The dramatic improvements in facilities for fans benefited the winter game in a way it did not for cricket.
In more recent years, the AFL has been shedding fans at games. The 2012-14 average crowds were as low as they have been for over 10 years leaving administrators with similar concerns to cricket’s. While the specifics are slightly different, the fundamental reason could be the same – the experience of attending live has become poorer than watching on television.
The homogeneity of stadia and teams makes attending a game of AFL the same Australia wide. It matters little who is playing or where, the live experience is the same. The experience is becoming boring. This is increasingly true when factoring in the games against meaningless franchises for which we have no passion. At least we can press mute when advertising comes on the television. And we can switch off or go chat to someone in a pub if the game becomes boring.
Perhaps the last straw for fans was the increasing “noise” at AFL games. For unfathomable reasons, every break in play is no longer a chance to chat to a friend. On-ground announcers, advertising, “popular” music, betting updates and similar absurdities bombard the casual fan making conversation almost impossible. So the fan is left with a choice – run the gauntlet of the homogenous stadium with punch-in-the-face advertising or sit at a friend’s house with some nice food and refreshments and watch the game in high definition?
One sport that seems somewhat immune from the worries about attendances is horse racing. The sport is so reliant on gambling that crowds matter little. As long as more liberalised gambling opportunities increase profits, the VRC will pay little heed to crowds.
Even when large crowds do attend the races, people are not there for the sport. The large crowds at Flemington and Caulfield go for the social occasion, to put on their best attire and consume with friends. The horses add but a distraction. Nevertheless, crowds are falling at the races too. Since reaching nearly 130,000 in 2006, crowds at Flemington’s most popular carnival day, Victoria Derby, have fallen. This year, a shade over 90,000 attended. A dramatic drop.
Watching the horses race at Dunkeld can be a wonderful experience. Mt Sturgeon provides a stunning backdrop to the gorgeous racecourse. Fewer than 15 years ago it was possible to turn up to the Cup in early November with a picnic rug, food and refreshments. As it became increasingly popular, authorities became more draconian. Now people are carefully shuttled into class and price defined areas. There is little room left for a picnic. BYO is a thing of the past. Security is a constant. Prices have risen. Perhaps this quiet western district town provides a neat analogy for the events at racecourses in Victoria’s capital. Little wonder crowds are falling.
There are good reasons for limiting the amount of booze people can drink at sporting events. Advocating a return to the lawless days at the cricket when play was regularly interrupted by drunken fools is not the point. Similarly, a return to the wet and wind of VFL Park in Waverley is clearly not desirable. But somewhere there is a happy medium. There must be a way in which punters are allowed to attend and be social while still enjoying the live sport. Administrators would be wise to find this happy medium before they play soul-less games at life-less concrete stadia as is occurring in the Sheffield Shield and at GWS Giants games.
It seems a lifetime ago, but just over 10 years ago I attended three sporting games. The first was a Sheffield Shield game between Victoria and New South Wales. The game was at Punt Road Oval and, with no Australian team playing, contained Steve and Mark Waugh, Glen McGrath, Shane Warne and Paul Reiffel. I paid a modest entry fee befitting my student status and sat on the hill with some friends chatting and watching the game. One Sunday, I saw a World XI take on Victoria at the Junction Oval. Entry was free and we stood on the outer side recalling our weekend’s activities. A friend organised a ticket to watch St Kilda and Fremantle at Princes Park. We sat where we wanted and discussed our sore bodies from our activities on the field the day prior. The three have much in common – they were convenient, low-key, and cheap. But what made them enjoyable and memorable is that I sat watching a game of high-level sport while chatting with friends.