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SirRobertAnderson
04-03-2007, 06:24 PM
A snippet from this Wall Street Journal piece caught my eye.

I can't profess to know much about cricket other than its similarities to baseball. Anyone have any idea why the suicide rate for the sport would be high ?

Dazed, the World Cup continues, in mind, body but not spirit. Cricket goes on, for it is no virgin to scandal and darkness. Cricketers have murdered and been murdered. Historian David Frith notes that the suicide rate among cricketers is disproportionately high (at last count he had documented over 150 cases).

A Cricket Legend's Strange, Sudden Exit
By OSMAN SAMIUDDIN
March 29, 2007; Page D9

That cricket finds itself on these pages is warning enough that something big, and probably unpleasant, has happened to it. You're not wrong, for last week on March 18, in room 374 of Jamaica's Pegasus Hotel, a maid came upon not only the lifeless body of Bob Woolmer, the English coach of Pakistan, but possibly cricket's JFK moment. Within days, police announced he had been murdered. Where were you?

It's some tale and here is some trivia. His death occurred five days into cricket's showpiece, the World Cup. It came barely a day after one of the sport's greatest upsets: Debutante Ireland, as synonymous with cricket as Enron is with credibility and composed of postmen and teachers who play cricket part-time, beat Woolmer's team, traditional powerhouse and 1992 world champion Pakistan. It was America's 1980 miracle on ice, Buster busting Tyson and Argentina beating the Dream Team at the 2004 Olympiad all in one. And on St. Patrick's Day.

Murder is no way to go, but a loss to Ireland spoke poorly as the last act of a man considered one of cricket's genuine radicals; if there is a left-field in this often straight-laced game, then Woolmer was an inhabitant. In the mid-1990s, he evolved the once nonexistent, then peripheral role of the coach while in charge of South Africa, hinting to cricket that it too could contain a Vince Lombardi or a Phil Jackson, off-field men intrinsic to their team's on-field success.
[Bob Woolmer]

Entire matches were recorded, analyzed, laptops used as often as sports scientists. Innovative training drills were constructed, though often it was said that Woolmer went too far, as when he tried to communicate with his team during play via an earpiece. But South Africa was successful and Woolmer was feted, having nudged cricket into modernity.

When he came to Pakistan, in June 2004, Woolmer's peak was past though the prospect was delicious: one of cricket's more orderly, scientific minds working with the sport's confirmed schizoid team, champions one day, clowns the next. For a while, through 2005, the matchup worked as Woolmer helped galvanize the players and Pakistan bubbled with a series of heady triumphs.

But the last seven months of Woolmer's tenure were maddening, his team lurching from crisis to controversy, slipping from grace so speedily that Britney Spears might have shivered. Pakistan became the first international team in 129 years to forfeit a test match. Two leading players tested positive for steroids, got banned and were subsequently exonerated.

Results suffered, tensions rose. One of the last images of Woolmer before the World Cup was the coach's televised spat with his own leading star Shoaib Akhtar, cricket's Denis Rodman for showmanship and drama but not the cross-dressing. A despairing crescendo built up until all the madness, the drama, the tragedy gushed out in the Caribbean, the curse of the Irish capping off Pakistan's worst campaign, Woolmer's death further blackening it.

Hectic schedules prevented Woolmer from spending enough time in Pakistan to be loved or hated there. Had they known the genial, worldly raconteur of cricket tales, his evangelical zeal for the game, his approachable manner and keen eye for cultural traits (he often muttered inshallah, or God willing, in times of uncertainty, as Pakistanis are prone to do), their attachment to him might have been stronger. Instead, he was respected when times were good, but a surplus foreigner when bad.

Initially, after Pakistan's loss to Ireland, fans vented in time-honored fashion. Players' effigies were burnt and chants called for players' -- and Woolmer's -- heads. Barely had the anger been exorcised when news of his death filtered through. Immediately anger became guilty grieving and Woolmer was transformed into a martyr of sorts, who had taken the loss so to his heart that he died as a result. Duly, he was conferred a lofty civilian honor by the president.

When it emerged after two autopsies that murder was the case, anxiety took over. Drawing rooms, sidewalks, schools, streets, television and teashops became dens for gossip and speculation about a crime miles, continents and oceans away. Pakistan became a nation of amateur sleuths and armchair critics: Many wondered whether the Pakistan players were suspects, as did the international media. Why fingerprint them? Was it really murder? Why did it take Pakistan four days to send help to the players, and of the diplomatic rather than legal kind? Was Woolmer's murder connected to match-fixing -- the practice of fixing performances or games by players with illegal bookies in tow -- which so blighted cricket in the late 1990s?

Big banks and bigger soft drinks canned their cricket-based campaigns. The team was poor, Woolmer's demise morbid and cricket offered no happy vibe. Gradually, as the investigations dragged, headlines lessened every passing day. Normality and anger returned. When the players finally arrived back in Pakistan, over a week after Woolmer's death, fans taunted them, caring little that they were deeply traumatized after losing someone close. The luckier players slipped away at the airport through back exits.

Dazed, the World Cup continues, in mind, body but not spirit. Cricket goes on, for it is no virgin to scandal and darkness. Cricketers have murdered and been murdered. Historian David Frith notes that the suicide rate among cricketers is disproportionately high (at last count he had documented over 150 cases).

Drugs, recreational or performance-enhancing, have reared their heads periodically over two decades, on-field confrontations are not scarce, players have attacked fans and political crises are never far. Match-fixing, to which Woolmer's murder is persistently but not definitively linked, shook the game to its very core. The last time cricket was a gentleman's game was when men wore top hats.

Yet has there been anything quite like this, as sudden, as macabre and with as great an immediate impact beyond cricket, maybe even sports? The murder of a high-profile coach of a high-profile team after a high-profile loss during the sport's highest-profile tournament? Still the mind boggles.

Cricket's fraternity says too often, in cases of gamesmanship, a breach of spirit or mass scandal, that it's just not cricket. It's been said this past week too -- though, truth be told, never has that phrase seemed so inadequate.

Mr. Samiuddin is Pakistan editor of Cricinfo.com1.

A.P. Wolf
04-03-2007, 06:32 PM
I don't know about suicide, Sir Robert, but my grandfather played first class cricket at Lords and he got himself murdered.
And not by the bowler either.

SirRobertAnderson
04-04-2007, 07:07 PM
From The Hindu

Is there anything particular about this sport that lends itself to the dark side ?


Date:24/03/2007

URL:

http://www.thehindu.com/2007/03/24/stories/2007032403321900.htm

Sport - Cricket

Bob Woolmer case: It's just not cricket

A man steeped in the game has been taken before his work had been completed, writes Peter Roebuck

How did it come to this? How did we allow a game to become a murder scene? A respected son has been cold-bloodedly killed in the middle of the game's most prestigious event. Until these last few days it could hardly be imagined that any game could suffer such a loss. It is only a game.

A bloke armed with a hunk of leather tries to hit three sticks protected by another fellow bearing a lump of wood. How can anyone care so much? How can wrath or vengeance or hatred so erode a man's better feelings that he kills because a match has been lost? Murders a man who was not even playing? Endangers his own life to exact revenge?

At once it is a tragedy and an absurdity. A man steeped in the game has been taken before his work had been completed. A father has been denied his period of reflection. A wife must embark upon her twilight years without her companion. A family has been rent asunder. No one wanted to believe it.

No one thought it possible that the greed, the frenzy, the hysteria, the nationalism had so far escaped the containment of reason as to provoke such destruction. No-one wanted to believe that the madmen were serious.

Alas, the unavoidable revelation of our times is that civilisation eludes us. Man's inhumanity to man continues apace. Savagery stalks the streets of Baghdad and Harare. It is something to take a man's life yet it happens every day and hardly raises a blink. Manners die in the gutter, their moans unheard.

Remain immune

Sport could not hope to remain immune. At times it has become as squalid as any political dogfight. Cricket has been as reluctant as any other recreation to confront its shadows. Recently a national captain was threatened by senior cricketing officials.

And what unfolded? Tatenda Taibu fled his home, left his country. Meanwhile the culprits retained office, filling their pockets with foreign currency, fattened apologists for the evil that has fed them.

Speculations abound

Inevitably speculation is rife about this latest outrage. Was it a criminal of the streets, a chancer seeking loot? Kingston is full of them but it is unlikely. Easier targets present themselves. Bookies? Woolmer knew a thing or two but was not the type to spill beans.

Moreover bookies prefer to work in the darkness. Murdering someone within a stone's throw of the world's media cannot be good for business. The timing of the death cannot be coincidental. Had pride been hurt? Pockets emptied? Passions aroused? Regardless, cricket needs to take a look at itself. Money has become its god. Indian players are at the beck and call of sponsors when they want to be in the nets. Drugs, cheating, gambling fester not far from the surface.

Off the field, frenzy has replaced calm and informed debate. Inevitably supporters lose their heads. Victories and defeats are no longer part and parcel of a fascinating game. Someone is to blame. Someone must pay the penalty.

To concentrate on these excesses is to distort the picture. But cricket does need to find a new sincerity. Woolmer's untimely passing means the game must stop pretending that it is permissible to throw stones, place bets, burn cars, barrack visitors, curse opponents, stare at umpires and pretend that leather-flingers and willow-wielders can be something more than collectors or runs and takers of wickets. It is time to start laughing again. But it might take awhile. A man has to be buried. A game has to emerge from the grave it has dug.

© Copyright 2000 - 2006 The Hindu

How Brown
04-04-2007, 07:46 PM
Hey gang...I know a couple of people who were "that close" to taking a swan dive outta an apartment when the Flyers lost to the f&$%^ing Islanders back in 1980 in the Stanley Cup. I know that some people offed themselves in Philly after that...ahem...ripoff. Tonelli dragged the man offsides at the blue line,hence Nystrom's goal shouldn't have counted ( an inside comment to New York and Connecticut site members who know I'm right).

But for players to commit Harry Potter..er...Harry Nilsson...no,um..ah balls ! suicide....makes this sport pretty intriguing now.

Where's Monty at? I wanna give him a whack in the shins !

SirRobertAnderson
04-05-2007, 05:57 PM
Hey gang...I know a couple of people who were "that close" to taking a swan dive outta an apartment when the Flyers lost to the f&$%^ing Islanders back in 1980 in the Stanley Cup.

Let there be no doubt that Potvin Sucks .

Seriously, How - if someone said NFL football had a dark side, I'd agree in a heartbeat. But cricket ?????

How Brown
04-05-2007, 06:01 PM
Bob:

This cricket seems to be like one of those sports the Aztecs played ( like basketball,but the hoop was turned sideways). The loser got whacked.

I ain't playin'. I'll stand on the sidelines with Nina,Caz,and uh..Kelly and Debbie and uh...Miss Cellania and we'll watch.