‘‘You guys are crazy’’, Desmond Haynes shouted to the assembled media. He’d just emerged from his hotel room, after an interminable wait for his turn before the Gang of Six, to find flashbulbs going off by the dozen and an army of reporters waiting for a 15-second soundbyte. Welcome to Indian Cricket. For six hours today the future of the sport took second place to a series of comical, farcical moments that added up to no tangible result at the end. After all four candidates had met the selection committee, it appeared that Greg Chappell was the front-runner. Then again, maybe not. The day began on time before disintegrating into typical delays. Almost like the bowling rate in a one-day match. The appointments were scheduled for 2:15, 3:00, 3:45, and 4:30, in alphabetical order; the schedule eventually followed was 2.30, 4.45, 6.30, 7.15. Mohinder Amarnath, dressed in sharp black business suit, kicked off proceedings, walking into the meeting with two of his books — Grit and Grace and How to Play Cricket — under his arm, a laptop in his hand and his brother-in-law by his side. The latter’s job: operate the laptop to display his ‘Presentation and expression of interest’. Meanwhile, unaware that Jimmy would stick to Indian Stretchable Time and speak for an hour and fifty minutes, Greg Chappell arrived for the interview at 3 p.m. sharp. The media, including a couple of former Test cricketers, got its chance for another 15-second soundbyte. ‘‘I’m honoured to have the opportunity to make my point.’’ He sat in the room next to where the interview was being held. And sat, and sat. At 3:45 p.m., Haynes came down for the interview — shielding his eyes from the flashbulbs — only to find Amarnath’s interview still on and even the waiting room occupied. ‘‘I’m not used to batting lower down the order, mate. Get me up the order.’’ Amarnath finally came out and Chappell ushered in. Jimmy gave his bytes, playing the Indian card. ‘‘A coach can’t give a jadoo ki jhappi to the team and improve it overnight.’’ Cue applause. With Haynes padded up and raring to go, Tom Moody was called down to the waiting room. Chappell finished and returned to his room, pursued by one journalist who went up the escalator the wrong way, fell and disabled the mechanism. But Haynes would have to bide his time further because, in the middle of all this, Jagmohan Dalmiya and Ranbir Singh Mahendra rushed off to meet the Prime Minister on the issue of tax exemption for the ICC Champions Trophy. As the media waited, the assembled officials had their 15 minutes of fame. Raj Singh Dungarpur, the man who picked John Wright last time, offered his two bits. He dismissed Chappell, anointed Moody and rubbished Haynes. ‘‘The next time, if the world cup is held in Timbuktu, will we appoint some one from there?’’ Order was restored when Messrs Dalmiya and Mahendra returned from the PM’s house and — at 6-30 p.m., only 3 hours behind schedule — Haynes marched out to the middle. He was swift, unlike his playing days, and met the press, by now used to the flashes. By the time Moody was through, it was almost 8 p.m. True to style, the league of extraordinary gentlemen sounded just as clueless as they were six hours ago. When India’s next coach would be picked remained a mystery. ‘‘There’s a press meet at 12:30 tomorrow, I can’t say if we are announcing anything’’, said Mahindra. One reporter asked, only half in jest: ‘‘Will we have two coaches or three?’’
