Life's about courage and character

<div class="section1"><div class="Normal">Pakistan’s hyped-on-steroid visit of India, which begins Monday, reminds me of my first cricket tour. In the winter of 1982, I trekked across the Wagah border, suitcase in one hand, portable typewriter in the other, head buzzing with anecdotes of the rivalry between the arch-rivals. With big stars like Imran, Zaheer, Javed, Sarfraz, Mohsin ranged against Gavaskar, Vishwanath, Vengsarkar, Mohinder, Kapil Dev, Kirmani, Patil, the series promised classic stuff for cricket fans.<br /><br />Unbelievably, less than 1500 people turned up on the opening day of the first Test at Lahore, setting the pattern for the series.The poor crowd response was attributed to two things — the Pakistan board had sold the admission rights for the six Tests and six One-dayers to a private contractor, who had priced the tickets out of the reach of the common man. Moreover, the matches were live on telly, so most people watched at home.<br /><br />The admission rights to the stadia, I learnt, were sold for Rs 15 lakh or thereabouts, and the TV rights for not much more. The value of an India-Pakistan series (with six Tests and six ODIs, let me reiterate) was just about three million rupees! Compare that with Rs 200 crore being offered for the impending three Tests and six ODIs and you get an idea of the phenomenal growth in the brand equity of Indian cricket, with ‘India versus Pakistan’ easily the best-seller.<br /><br />The 1982-83 series served as an eye-opener for some shrewd men who could spot the power of television in sport, the rapid penetration of cable TV in sub-continent households, and the blockbuster potential therefore of ‘India vs Pakistan’. Abdul Rahman Bukhatir, the sheikh from Sharjah was one of them. From India, notably NKP Salve, IS Bindra and Jagmohan Dalmiya. When India won the World Cup in 1983, the value of Indian cricket began to skyrocket.<br /><br />The foresight and strategies of such people in making cricket a cash cow in these parts of the world must be appreciated. There was a stage when the sport could have collapsed under its own weight — much like the Olympics, which no country wanted to host because of the huge financial burden. Marketing whiz Peter Ueberroth turned things around during the 1984 Los Angeles Games and made the Olympics into a multi-billion dollar property. Jagmohan Dalmiya and a few others have done likewise for Indian cricket.<br />Which is why the prolonged and bitter battle for the telecast rights of Indian cricket is not without irony. Many of the parties in the dispute — directly involved or otherwise — are those who have actually made it so invaluable. Perhaps that’s the story of life.<br /><br />The Book of Sports Lists (Craig and David Brown) has been my bedside companion lately, especially for stories of courage and character, the most absorbing of which concerned Muhammad Ali, who incidentally turned 60 last month.<br />Following his defeat to Ken Norton in 1973, Ali was invited by Oxford University to stand for election to their ‘Chair of Poetry’ because it was widely believed he would quit boxing. Ali refused in verse:<br /><br /><span style="" font-style:="" italic="">Pay heed my children and you will see</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-style:="" italic="">Why this is not the time for university</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-style:="" italic="">It’s not the pay, although that’s small</span><br /><br /><span style="" font-style:="" italic="">But I have to show the world I can still walk tall</span><br /><br />The following year, he beat George Foreman in the ''Thrilla at Manila''.But that’s not the only reason why Ali was unique. In 1977, he visited a hospital in Yorkshire and presented 13-year-old Julie Collins, who was suffering from a congenital spinal disease, a diamond ring. "She’s a greater champ than I am," he said.<br /><br />Which is why Muhammad Ali was The Greatest.</div> </div>