The legislation of character

Ashwin Mahesh

This past week, West Indian wicket-keeper Ridley Jacobs received a three-game suspension after investigations into an incident during the final qualifying ODI game against India in Zimbabwe, namely the dismissal of Virender Shewag. Television replays showed that Jacobs had stumped Shewag with the ball clearly not in the hand he used to break the wickets. International Cricket Council match referee Denis Lindsay, after consultations with the West Indian captain and manager as well as the Zimbabwe Cricket Union chief David Ellman-Brown, announced the suspension that will force the wicket-keeper batsman to sit out the next three internationals immediately following the tournament.

According to the announcement, the match referee found Jacobs guilty of breach of the Players and Team Officials Code C2, namely: Players and/or Team Officials shall at no time engage in conduct unbecoming to their status which could bring them or the game of cricket into disrepute. In addition, the referee found Jacobs guilty of transgressing the Spirit of Cricket [Point #5 of the Official ICC Laws of Cricket 2000 Code], namely: It is against the Spirit of the Game to indulge in cheating or any sharp practice. The match referee noted that whilst Jacobs did not claim the stumping, he had more than ample opportunity to recall batsman Shewag which he failed to do.

There is little doubt that stunning revelations of match-fixing around the world have brought us the administrative crackdown on un-gentlemanlike conduct. The legislation of character, however, shows little understanding of its nature, or even the sequence of on-field events.

Of this incident, note the complete absence of "proper" conduct on the part of many others who had every opportunity to observe Jacobs on television immediately after the fall of the wicket. The referee insists that it is plain to see that the batsman is not fairly dismissed. Yet, rather than permit him to carry on by overruling the umpire's verdict, he instead hauls up the hapless player on the charge of behaving in an unbecoming manner! The simplistic notion that Jacobs knew Shewag was not out doesn't fly - the match referee knew this just as well if not more reliably so, watching on TV! The administrative sleight of hand in disciplining players is silly; what might have passed for simple error in judgement is decried as un-gentlemanlike!

And what of the status referred to in handing down Jacobs's suspension? How exalted is this? And how real? Today's cricketer, after all, is not the idle gentleman of times past who derived his social standing quite independent of the sport. After a turn of his arm and a couple of good knocks down the field, his mates and opponents on the field do not retire to comfortable evenings at the theater with wives in tow. In bygone England, with its many professed virtues imprinted on the game, the average bloke on the field today would be regarded as a talented lad, even if a bit dull. And most importantly, his sporting talents alone would not secure him a status unavailable through other means.

The economic fortunes of today's athlete are not typically obtained at birth, either; his acceptance into cliques of the haves isn't automatic. His choices are often not his alone, and must reflect the aspirations of family as well. His education and training do not attempt to provide coats of propriety in already secure lives. Instead they offer windows of opportunity where little else might exist. His ascension to prominence reflects the value our societies place on fierce competition. When reward for victory is the unyielding benchmark for glory in sport at every stage of development, can the highest expression of the game alone demand a different standard of behavior?

Moreover, an imposed standard of judging deviance is necessarily fraught with some cultural dangers. If cheating at stumping rates a three-match ban, how much of a ban does telling your opponent to f*** off rate? How serious a penalty should one receive for calling his opponent a bas***d? After all, gentleman do not shove smaller-made opponents, they do not indulge in profanity that suggests players of opposing sides indulge in intercourse with their mothers. They do not hurl abuse at their opponents and pretend it is mere competitiveness. Nonetheless, there is a culture of tolerance for this nonchalant dismissiveness of an opponent that reflects only the western understanding of gentlemanlike conduct, and even this limited notion is pretense!

Without a proper examination of cultural context, this assertiveness from a bygone colonial time will collapse under the weight of its contradictions. The reference to acceptable conduct sounds admirable, but someone must judge where the bar lies, and yet to the satisfaction of all. Unlike a widely accepted standard for proper conduct that reflects reality, an imposed benchmark must not only be fair, it must appear so as well.

In short order, we will see allegations of cultural insensitivity - or even worse, racism - in these judgements, in much the same way we now regard decisions relating to sledging and dissent

Culture isn't the only tricky turn on the road to meaningful reform, either. Indeed, even we concede that there is such a thing as a universal standard of proper behavior, the administrators must additionally recognize the individual nature of conduct in ways that this week's decision does not suggest they do.

Once before on these pages, we looked at the game and its reputation as a battleground of gentlemen, and in many respects, found this assessment to be wanting. Cricket is no more an honorable game than any other competitive sport, and the pretense that its traditions reflect a higher standard of human behavior is essentially self-adulation among the administrators, many of whom could not stand the scrutiny they subject the players to! Would the gentlemanly Lord Maclaurin, for example, care to present the full details of his investigations into Chris Lewis's allegations?

The truth is, as in other arenas of life, sometimes the competitive thing to do isn't the decent thing to do. Ultimately, any reference to gentlemanlike conduct hinges on recognizing this important difference, whereby those who see value in making competitive choices nonetheless find virtue in forsaking the advantage they would derive from it. In their zeal to enforce minimum standards of acceptable behaviour, however, the administrators appear to forget that without the opportunity to act in unbecoming ways the claim to gentlemanlike conduct is unsubstantiated at best.

Perhaps these premonitions of discord are unwarranted. The future of cricket may well be exemplary, with every competitor upholding the highest standards of ethical conduct at every level of the game. Admittedly, a little administrative arm-twisting that moves the sport down the road to that desirable end cannot harm the sport. But enforcement isn't the essence of character. A bit like Henry Higgins, we are wont to school the instinct of the naturally gifted into casts that appear presentable. The contrived facade of such attempts, however, ignores the inherent virtues of Eliza Doolittle and recognizes only the morality of authority. Measured only by orderly outcomes, even prison will seem gentlemanlike!

In an ideal world, the stumper would recall the dismissed opponent, not from fear of a three-match ban, but from the simple knowledge of the truth. Batsman would walk when given out, and fielders would make legitimate appeals that do not harass the umpire. And character would seem splendid in cricketers who made these choices, knowing fully the benefits of doing otherwise. The legislation of conduct, however well-intended, rates a poor second to honest sportsmanship.

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