
It wasn’t the first time in cricket history that rain and bad light saved a team struggling to fend off defeat. But the barely concealed discomfort with which the reigning World champions from Sri Lanka approached the task of batting out the final day of the Mumbai Test Sunday last week must provoke comment on an issue that hasn’t been sufficiently debated: Test and One-Day cricket are admittedly different, so why not have two separate teams represent a country in the two formats of the game?
The question evokes a chorus of negative reactions from former cricketers for whom the One-Day game was, in their prime, a mere diversion from the five-day Test. A professional cricketer, their argument runs, must be able to adapt to either version because it’s the same game you’re playing — save for a change of rules and an occasional change of attire.
But TV commentators Geoffrey Boycott and Sunil Gavaskar are two Test greats whose relatively mediocre One-Day careers prove my point. While rightly blaming too much One-Day cricket for declining standards in batting and bowling, they never tire of informing us that cricket is played as much in the mind as on the field, that it’s the peculiar chemistry of technique and temperament which characterises success.
What I don’t hear from these and other wise men is the enunciation of an equally pertinent fact — that the technique and temperament needed for success in Test cricket is often radically different from what’s demanded in One-Day cricket. If the cuisines are indeed so different, why hesitate to hire separate cooks?
Let’s ponder awhile on that Mumbai Test. Sri Lanka were finally required to make 327 runs in a minimum of 90 overs. In a typical One-Day situation, where they routinely smack 270-280 runs in the allotted 50 over and are acknowledged masters of the run-chase, the target would have been a cakewalk.
But they faltered, stumbled, and looked like pale caricatures of the confident team that had won the World Cup last year. What happened?Prime facie, the reasons are easily identifiable. For one, the One-Day format limits the number of overs that a player can bowl, so you can outwait a star bowler’s quota before gearing up the run machine.
No such quota system shackles bowlers in a Test match. For another, the wear and tear of the pitch is rarely a factor in limited-overs cricket which, by its very nature, calls for restrictive bowling, not the kind of penetrative stuff that may sacrifice a few runs but will ultimately dismiss the opposition twice with time to spare.
These and other factorssuch as the curb on the number of fielders in run-saving positions during the early overs, and the limits on the height and width of deliveriesare but surface restraints. The real deep-seated reason for the Sri Lankan failure — or, more accurately, non-successat the Test level lies in the players’ inability to adapt to the longer version of the game in technique and temperament.
As a result, they were prone to go on the defensive even using negative tactics — at the first opportunity.
Sure, there are talented geniuses like Tendulkar, Lara, Aravinda de Silva and Mark Waugh who would easily walk into any Test or One-Day side. But these are exceptions to the trend that might have been set already. Smart and aggressively professional in their pursuit of excellence, the Australians could well be on their way to having a two-team squad.
They have separate captains for the two formats, and have cultivated genuine one-day specialists. Of course, playing the same team for Tests and One-Dayers has resulted in better fielding in Tests. But that’s the kind of logic that praises the nuclear arms race for preventing world war. In the longer run, a game as lucrative as cricket can’t escape the bazaar buzzword: specialisation.


