One happy family
Fazeer Mohammed
Monday, April 10th 2006
Five Indians (of various hues), three Africans (of the reddish variety), two Douglas (I think) and one Cocoa Panyol. All of them supported wholeheartedly by a Guaracara Park crowd as varied as the national cricket team.
Just before tea yesterday, Daren Ganga skied Rawl Lewis to long-off to end his innings at 161, effectively ensuring that Trinidad and Tobago were well on their way to the final of the regional first-class competition at the expense of a game-but outclassed- Windward Islands team. The tourists' subsequent collapse renders this morning's play as little more than a formality.
Not surprisingly, almost every man, woman and child-straight-haired or otherwise-rose in applause to acclaim the captain's innings.
In a country fighting a guerrilla war with itself and so often pulled in different directions on the basis of race and political preference, sport continues to unite and show a way out of the senseless, inane debates that occupy far too much time in the liming spots, on the airwaves, and in the corridors of the Red House.
Some of the same flag-waving T&T supporters may be sworn enemies on the hustings, doltishly believing as they do that the smooth-talking Pied Pipers they follow are really interested in their walfare. But at least it's an escape from the race-based phobias and suspicions that are strangling any real hopes of progress for a country drowning in wealth and material possessions.
Every so often during the course of the day's play, someone would enquire as to how "we boy" doing at the Masters. Usually, "we boy" is Tiger Woods, the American product of a black military man and Thai woman whose dominance of golf in the past eight years has made experts here of people who wouldn't normally know the difference between a birdie and a picoplat.
But especially after his remarkably convincing triumph in the Players' Championship two weeks ago, Stephen Ames, the white boy from San Fernando, is hailed by all and sundry as another example of the incredible sporting talent that resides in this twin-island madhouse, never mind that he now flies the maple leaf of Canada.
It is hopelessly simplistic to suggest that the unity, camaraderie and genuine good humour among fellow men and women on and off the field in a sporting environment should be very easy to replicate in wider spheres in our cosmopolitan society.
The reason it can't, of course, is because, unlike some other significant social pursuits, merit is more or less the sole determinant for success in sport. Yes, there are biased selectors and incompetent officiating, but it is highly debatable whether anyone anywhere has scaled the summit of a particular sport on the strength of naked favouritism.
It is almost too simple and too unforgiving to be acceptable in any other manner of endeavour. You cross the line first, you win. You score enough runs or take enough wickets consistently, and the selectors, no matter how bad-minded or vindictive they are, cannot ignore you.
If they do, there is always public sentiment and the media screaming of the injustice, an injustice that ignores merit, not whether the victim is a PNM or UNC.
Compare that with what goes on in politics and private enterprise. So often, it's more about who knows you, who you know, the type of party card you carry and the degree of the financial commitment you are prepared to make in return for favourable consideration.
Add to that the issue of ethnicity, and you have a potent cocktail of shameless favouritism that rewards boot-licking and leaves quality and merit to fill the minor placings.
This is not to say that sport is all equitable, egalitarian and squeaky clean. In anything involving huge sums of money and fragile egos, there will always be scope for some form of underhand practice. But at its most fundamental level, sporting success is the vehicle that unites nations, crossing boundaries of colour, class and other prejudices.
The atmosphere will be the same again at Guaracara Park next weekend when the regional champions host either Barbados or Guyana in the final. Hundreds will gather again with their coolers, newspapers and know-it-all attitudes to enjoy a sporting environment that is almost timeless in this world of incessant change for change sake.
Yet in the five days before the first ball is bowled, some of the folks who will dance and embrace each other as true, true celebrating Trinis will look upon each other with suspicion, and even scorn. It would seem to make no sense for us to celebrate as one with our national sporting teams and outstanding individuals, yet at the same think the worst of each other, especially in that extremely dirty game of politics.
Most readers would probably have said "So what?" to the opening line of this column detailing the racial mix of the national cricket team. The ones who don't, who see the statistics as reflective of some other dark reality and reflective of some sort of injustice, need to really check themselves.
They are part of the problem and can offer no real solution to a country that has enough challenges as it is without having to give any consideration to the texture of a man's hair and who he will call his leader.
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