Fortitude (n) -- collective noun for cricketing forward defensive strokes
Recently, the Zimbabweans were the latest meal item for the rampant Tigers’ banquet that has taken in Pakistan, India, and South Africa since May, with England as a World Cup aperitif. Too bad, we would have enjoyed a “kangaroo Barbie” but for the tragic events of September and October.
However, I was taken aback by some of the distasteful mockery and disrespect shown to the Zimmers in social media after our victory.
During the last World Cup, we were thin-skinned about the nonsense served up by some of the media of a neighbouring country, yet we didn’t hesitate to dish out the same rubbish when the boot was on the other foot.
Let us always honour the Zimmers. They, like us, have continuously had their test status questioned and performances ridiculed by the big boys.
In all of international cricket, they are our closest brothers in understanding both the struggle and the pride.
Again, during the Zimbabwe series, my hackles were raised by aspersions cast on the patriotism of our tiger in chief, Shakib Al Hasan and his family’s decision to have their first-born abroad.
This was much less than the vitriol aroused by his clash with the cricketing board 18 months earlier over disciplinary issues.
At that time I was taken aback by the level of self-righteous outrage and vileness that included insulting members of his family.
Again, I’m given to understand this is common practice in neighbouring cricketing countries where every Tomal, Dikantho, and Hari jumps on the bandwagon but was never a feature of our game.
I find it interesting that MPs, ministers, and their families regularly opt to go abroad for medical issues and also have their scions born abroad to foreign citizenship.
Yet, no collective outrage or condemnation? These are the very people tasked with improving local private and public medical standards, yet don’t do so, and avail of treatment and citizenship abroad.
However, when SAH chooses to do so, it’s almost as if some sort of hasbara equivalent gets its act together. As Jonathan Swift said: “When a true genius appears, you can know him by this sign: That all the dunces are in a confederacy against him.”
A common feature of the complaints rained down on SAH 18 months ago, seemed to be that of resentment about the money he earned through endorsements.
This endorsement issue comes up again and again in criticism against Tamim, Mashrafe, and any other cricketer daring to rise above their level, blast their impudence.
I have followed SAH’s career since 2007, and seen him graft, sweat, stretch every sinew, and give his all for the sake of Bangladesh cricket.
Often shouldering the responsibility of bowling prodigious number of overs, or battling to hold an innings together in trying weather and match conditions. He never shirked, he never complained, and he has inspired his teammates to take it to another level.
Deal with the political machinations that is our cricket board, stand tall, and hold your own against the world’s best, carry the hopes of a nation, and then you can say “boo.”
Till then, don’t you dare denigrate a true hero. As far as I’m concerned, he can pee on the bloody pitch and I’ll support him no less.
Tamim Iqbal in 2007 striding down the track and launching Zaheer Khan into the second tier of the stands was the shot heard around the world. Mashrafe has come back from injuries that would have crippled lesser men with lesser wills.
We have witnessed their contemporaries fall by the wayside and others burst briefly onto the scene like fireworks, then disappear into darkness. They have fought injuries, personal demons, and life.
They are our golden generation that never quite fulfilled their early promise. But today they are golden, they are part of a team of gladiators all backing each other, when others fail, some will always stand up.
Like many of my generation, I grew up on cricket pitches pretending to be Viv Richards, Ian Botham, Imran Khan, Kapil Dev. Today, there is a generation of Bangladeshi kids playing in the streets, in the cleared paddy fields and calling themselves Shakib, Mushie, Mashrafe, Tamim, and the pantheon of tiger heroes. I do not begrudge this lot any perk or benefit they have earned. They are tiger born, they are Bangla strong.
The path to this point has been a tough one for both players and fans: Many false dawns, disappointments and frustrations. The times intoxicated by heady happiness, we were seduced into bed by hope -- yet, in the cold sombre morning found ourselves waking up with despair.
One must be a special type of blessed idiot to love Bangladesh cricket. At end of the day, we do not know why we choose to give our hearts to the beloved, but we do.
For the true lover, there is no expectation, no obligation. So embrace the pain and cheer louder, for that’s what we do.
