Empty Eden: The saddest sight in cricket

There is, or at least seems to be, a fairly vigorous debate taking place in the world of cricket about whether Test cricket is threatened, thriving, surviving, dead or perhaps existing in some alternate time-dimension. In this post, I do not want to enter into that discussion. Rather, my intention here is simpler: to note a melancholic cricketing spectacle, that of Eden Gardens in Kolkata, which during a Test between India and West Indies resembles nothing as much as a ground for a Ranji Trophy opening-round game between Assam and Tripura.

How time has flown. In 1998, when Australia toured India, I spent considerable time on the Internet Relay Channel, trying to convince denizens of that virtual space that an attendance world record could be set at Calcutta, as it was known then, during that series; Sachin had just blasted a masterful 155 at Chennai, Warne would be looking for revenge, India was 1-0 up in the series; the stage was set for the Calcutta crowds to show up in droves. Well, we didn't get a world record, but the stadium was packed, and we were treated to the kind of spectacle that only Eden Gardens seemed capable of.

A few years later, when Australia toured India again, and the Kolkata Test took place, the stands were full again. It is hard to imagine that the drama of the Test would not have been affected adversely had the stands been as empty as they have been in the current Test. Part of the pleasure in watching the highlights of that game is the sense of the cauldron that engulfs the players, the sounds and sights that form the backdrop for the players' heroics.

And of course, no other venue in India seemed to do it as well as Eden Gardens. I have had my share of unfavourable responses to some of the crowd reactions there over the years but I've never lost a gut feeling that if I wanted to pick an ideal backdrop for a humdinger of a Test, it would be Kolkata.

I do not claim to know anymore whether Test cricket will survive. What I do know is which cricketing spectacles I was fascinated by in the past, and how the crowds at the stadium played a not-so-subtle role in convincing me that what lay in front of my eyes was of momentous importance. When I watched a game take place in a stadium that was packed, noisy and colourful, my sense of participation, even if a distant one, in a cultural, social and sporting ritual or activity was genuine and palpable. The crowds set off the heroic feats appropriately by providing the right kind of framing for it. They made television better; a telecast that can showcase a packed stadium is light-years ahead of one that is forced to deal with the ugly backdrop of empty plastic seats or concrete stands.

Perhaps the crowds will be back for Australia or England or South Africa. Or Pakistan. One can only hope. Till then, it's hard not to feel a little wistful at the sight of this empty Eden, this deserted pasture.