Sport is about adrenaline rush, stunning reflexes, evergreen champions and nostalgia’s warmth. But it needs historical context and essentially, sport is reality drama that prospers along with an audience. Crowds gift buzz and it is an intangible quality that athletes constantly seek.
Sadly in these times of social distancing due to COVID-19, sport has snapped its umbilical cord with a fan base that packs the stands and even enlivens dull passages with impromptu Mexican waves. Recently, Stuart Broad said: “Wish I had family and friends to wave at.” He had just taken 500 Test wickets at Old Trafford fringed by vacant seats! The lone consolation being that his father Chris Broad was present as the match referee.
Equally, sports correspondents are resigned to filing their despatches from empty stadiums with just the squads, officials and broadcast crew providing a human dimension. It is not that they aren’t used to this as some domestic tournaments are watched by three men and a dog but international sport always drew the faithful. Journalists are getting used to the tragic normal and earlier times seem like utopia.
Back then, there was bone-crushing rush, fans stretched their vocal chords, former players lent mystique and scribes did not crane their necks to find colour and atmosphere.
Vibrant press boxes
If sport is larger than life, its nuanced perceptions emanate from vibrant press boxes. There are moments when the player, fan and writer find communion and that is when a goal is scored, a six hoisted or a wicket snared. In that fleeting second, the earth stops on its axis and magic finds a second life through the reporter’s hyper-active laptop. The crowd amplifies surrealism, without that it is akin to penning a lyric from a cemetery.
The press box always hosts a congregation. Rookie writer, wizened veteran, cricketers-turned-commentators and scorers, and there is always hugs, banter and high fives. Reporters also seek their jostling spaces for what gives them a high – be it caffeine or nicotine. A legend like Sunil Gavaskar could regale you with his anecdotes from the West Indies, a Michael Holding might speak with deep insight about sport as a metaphor and draw West Asia or race into it while a Sanjay Manjrekar can talk technique and belt out an old Hindi song. This bouquet of experiences needs to be savoured.
All that has come to a halt inside media enclosures and another loss is the acoustic clues that spectators offer.
Often in late-night matches, the correspondent has one eye on his report and another on the ground. If he or she misses a beat, the crowd’s roar prompts a quick look at the television as there is a time-lapse between live action and its corresponding telecast. Thankfully that big hit or sizzling forehand is seen and the observation merges into frenetic prose. Even bland press conferences acquired a life. There are takeaways too like when Sachin Tendulkar went on the charm offensive, grinned and asked: “So you guys are going to ask a few questions?” That personal touch is lost as sport grapples with sweaty kinetics on the turf and silence off it. The sports correspondent too is looking beyond the ball and awaiting a vaccine because reporting from venues bereft of fans, is a punch in the gut.