The Shorter Wisden 2013 (81 page)

S
TUARDO
M
ONROY

LIBERIA

William Gabriel Kpoleh, a combative opposition leader and political prisoner, probably had little time for cricket. But long after his passing, the school that bears his name is
keeping the game afloat. An enthusiastic headmaster, an expanding group of curious students, and the cricket-mad Indian community have created their own hub on a playground on the outskirts of
Monrovia. Hop on a downtown motorbike taxi, cling on for dear life and, 45 minutes later, with occasional stops for barked instructions, you are in New Georgia. On a scorching Sunday morning, a
practice match is already under way. The wicket is improvised, lovingly assembled by a Liberian devotee based on pictures downloaded from the internet. Bats are generously shared around. For now,
bowlers make do with a tennis ball. There is no Liberian Alf Gover yet, but Anish Panchal has volunteered his services as a coach. He is convinced of cricket’s healing power. “Cricket
has done a great deal to strengthen unity between Muslims and Hindus in India,” he says. “These are strong, fit guys. They have adapted quickly to a new sport, and understand it
requires daily practice to become a good player. I regularly screen DVDs from the last World Cup, so the guys can learn about tactics, field placings, how to chase a target.” Watching from
the side, with visible pride, are Michael Nyanneh, president of the Liberia National Cricket Federation, and the secretary, James Brown III. Nyanneh noticed Asians playing cricket when he was a
refugee in neighbouring Ivory Coast during the civil war years. Upon his return to Liberia, he flirted with the idea of setting up a baseball association – perhaps a more logical choice in a
country founded by freed African-American slaves. But the sports ministry suggested cricket instead. They were supportive, but had no money to offer, so he turned to the small but prosperous Indian
community. And in February 2012, an inaugural tournament was staged at Samuel K. Doe Sports Complex, where an LNCF XI, mixing Liberians with Indians, earned a three-run victory over Monrovia Super
Kings, a cash prize of $450 and an unspecified package from the sponsor. The New Republic, betraying its American influence, declared the Super Kings had been “whipped
116–113”.

C
HRIS
S
IMPSON

MALDIVES

In 2010, the American R&B superstar Akon was due to play a concert at Ekuveni Stadium on Male´, the largest island in the Maldives, until it was shelved at the last
minute following threats by Islamic groups who objected to his raunchier songs. The building knocked together to house his band’s equipment now acts as a cricket pavilion. Space is at a
premium in this archipelago of 200 inhabited (and 1,000 uninhabited) islands, so cricketers share the stadium with the nation’s athletes: the pitch is contained within the running track on a
sand-and-seashell surface. Another ground was built in late 2011, on the southern island of Fuvahmulah, for a tournament between Under-25 teams from the leading cricketing nations in Asia. The
competition, won by Pakistan, ran parallel with a South Asian regional political summit hosted by then-president Mohamed Nasheed – famous for hosting a cabinet meeting underwater to highlight
what climate change might do to his low-lying nation. Nasheed, who learned the rudiments of the game at Dauntsey’s School in Wiltshire, apparently had grand plans to install more grounds,
including the country’s first turf wicket, but since he was ousted in February 2012 – at gunpoint, he claimed – funding for cricket appears to have decreased. A year of political
turmoil did not prevent the Maldives taking part in the ACC Trophy Elite for the first time, after which Maldivian cricket legend Moosa Kaleem retired, aged 37.

J
AMES
C
OYNE

MONGOLIA

On the outskirts of Ulan Bator, in the brown, barren earth, there is a patch of land that stands out. It is mainly flat and stoneless; most importantly, it is 22 yards long. And
every Sunday in summer, it belongs to the only cricket club in Mongolia. Wedged between Siberia and China, and untouched by the British Empire, the country hasn’t seen much of the sport. But
in 1995, Indian and British expats formed the Mongolian Cricket Club. Five years later, Lord’s gave them permission to use the initials MCC (provided there was no clash of interest). By 2005,
the game was fading, but it was reborn in a restaurant on the sixth floor of the UB Hotel, run by an Indian, Babu Joseph. After a quiz night, a group of Indians and Australians decided they wanted
to play regularly again. They had no real pitch, so they built their own. “It was hard work, but the mining companies helped,” said Shiva Velchuri, a 34-year-old from Andhra Pradesh who
works in IT. “They have all the toys – excavators, rollers, compactors. We even got staff from the Indian Embassy to help, picking out stones.” Three-quarters of the players are
Indian, the rest mostly Australian. They’ve had South Africans and Zimbabweans, and Americans and Canadians who like to practise their baseball. The club play Twenty20 matches among
themselves. Mongolians have also tried their hand for the first time. “Every week, locals will walk through the field while we’re playing. One even stopped to watch standing right in
the middle – can you believe it?” spluttered Velchuri. They’ve also been visited by the police a couple of times. “They were curious, I think. They asked our local players
some questions, and made sure we weren’t drinking alcohol, but they let us play.” The club have tried, and failed, to find out who owns the land. But no one seems to object to their
presence.

O
WEN
A
MOS

NEW CALEDONIA

It’s 8am on a Saturday morning in September, and two games of traditional cricket are in full swing at Stade de N’Du. From the otherwise empty concrete stand there
is a flurry of activity from women wearing brightly coloured, calf-length, loose dresses. Thirteen scattered fielders and four batters make up each game: two to hit, two to run. The umpires are
men. There is no protective gear, and bats – flat-faced clubs, really – are one metre long. The bowlers come in off two or three paces. The shots are mostly vigorous leg-side flails.
With a loud thud, some middle the heavy, fist-sized ball made from the sap of the banyan; others squirt or balloon it into the off side. If the ball slants down leg, the batter tries to connect by
flipping her blade behind her legs – a tricky shot for a quick single, at best (even Eoin Morgan hasn’t tried this one). Good hand–eye co-ordination is vital: the ball tends to
fall apart, causing dangerously unpredictable bounce. It hurts too. National-team player Noel Sinyeue recalls how supporters once discouraged him from attempting a catch for fear of injury. He held
on, and became an instant 16-year-old hero. Cricket was imported to these perfect islands in the south-west Pacific in the mid-19th century by British Protestant missionaries, who tried to convert
the naturally competitive Melanesians to the sport as a replacement for more violent pastimes. The game rapidly absorbed indigenous rituals, and the number of registered players has since spiralled
to 2,600 in 72 clubs. They field several teams for men, women and youngsters, making cricket one of the most popular New Caledonian sports – popular enough to survive Napoleon III’s
annexation of “Nouvelle-Calédonie” in 1853, and 160 years of enduring French jurisdiction. The game is so deeply ingrained in the culture that, some years ago, a New Caledonian
brewery chose the silhouette of a female cricketer as the logo for its beer, Adele. Sadly, the beer wasn’t a success. Neither has been international cricket. Although it has been played in
New Caledonia for decades, there is a hard core of only around 30 experienced cricketers. In the 2003 Pacific Games, the men’s team suffered one of the heaviest defeats in 50-over cricket, by
468 runs: Papua New Guinea 502 for nine, New Caledonia 34 all out. But the enthusiasts are hopeful that burgeoning partnerships with traditional clubs can help drive New Caledonia to ICC Affiliate
status.

N
EIL
G
ODDEN

OMAN

Oman’s capital can claim the title of the driest city in the cricket-playing world, traditionally leading to rough and unsafe surfaces. So perhaps it is no surprise that
the country’s best-known Arab cricketer, HH Qais bin Khalid Al Said, a cousin of the Sultan, learned the game at Millfield School rather than Muscat. But now Al Emerat, the first fully turf
ground in the Sultanate, has been assiduously prepared for the new season. For the first time, fielders will be able to attack the ball, rather than edge in tentatively from the boundary trying to
predict bounce and trajectory on scorched-earth ground. Batsmen and bowlers will finally get off matting wickets, and learn to deal with spin and seam. When Oman finished 15th out of 16 at the 2012
World Twenty20 Qualifying tournament, the sports ministry expressed their “deep disappointment”, and enquired why more Omani nationals had not been considered for selection. As in many
Gulf states, league matches are often subcontinental corporate affairs between expat semi-professionals – with a single token Omani thrown in to satisfy league membership regulations. Yet
Oman has the best record in the Middle East for producing indigenous cricketers: around 200 of the 1,100 regular players in the country are Arabs. Oman is the only country in the region to insist
upon three nationals in their representative youth sides from 16 upwards. And, as coaches head into schools, more and more Arab boys and girls are discovering, to their surprise, that this peculiar
game is their nation’s most successful international sport.

P
AUL
B
IRD

POLAND

If the players of Warsaw CC are guilty of taking their eye off the ball, it might just be because there’s a nudist beach opposite their ground. Founded in 1994, the club
play their matches in the plush surroundings of the Panorama Country Club, a former hangout of British Embassy staff which still oozes old-school tie. And that stiff upper lip has been required at
times after the Wa
ł
Miedzeszy
ń
ski beach on the banks of the river Wis
ł
a became a popular spot for
naturists. The last couple of years have been significant for the growth of cricket in Poland, with the formation of a three-team national league: two clubs come from Warsaw, while Lodz CC have
acquired their own ground on the outskirts of Poland’s third-largest city. Cricket has also sprung up in Lublin, and been revived in Krakow and Wroclaw, with tentative plans elsewhere too.
For around a decade, there was minimal contact with the rest of European cricket. But in 2008 an XI made up of players of Polish descent, starring auctioneer Adam Franciszek Partridge from BBC
antiques show
Flog It!
, and former Cumberland all-rounder Jimmy Wisniewski, participated in the inaugural Euro Twenty20 tournament at Carmel & District CC in Wales. Four years later, a
Poland representative team drawn from the domestic league, including two natives, Szymon Rokicki and Piotr Sochaj, won the 2012 event in Sofia, beating Romania in the final. The presence of Vineet
Sinha – who was once clocked at 85mph, and bowled Matt Prior while playing for a Mumbai XI during England’s tour of India in 2008-09 – helped their cause.

T
IMOTHY
A
BRAHAM

ROMANIA

The 2007 World Cup remains, for most cricket lovers, a competition best forgotten – but it captivated one man so profoundly that the future of the game in Europe may
change for ever. Gabriel Marin, 53, is a former Romania Under-19 basketball player who, three years after the fall of Nicolae Ceaus¸escu in 1989, set up his own IT company with $500 –
much to his family’s despair. Twenty-one years on, Omnilogic is one of the success stories of the Romanian market economy, and its chief executive the archetypal post-Communist self-made man.
Marin could afford to send his son, Radu, to Lyceum Alpinum Zuoz, an exclusive international boarding school in Switzerland, where students play cricket in winter on the frozen lake at St Moritz.
One holiday in 2007, Radu returned home with tales of wonder about a peculiar English game, and persuaded his father to buy a Sky Sports subscription so he could follow the World Cup in the
Caribbean. They sat up all night, watching match after match. “What drew me to cricket is the unarmed combat,” said Gabriel. “The idea that a guy can be batting for six or seven
hours, facing a ball every 40 seconds, with no recourse to physical confrontation or arguing with the umpire.”

Marin embarked upon a crash-course world tour, taking in England’s 2009 Ashes win at Lord’s, the 2011 World Cup semi-final in Colombo, and a Rajasthan Royals game at the IPL, where
he chinwagged with Lalit Modi: “I can’t comment on the mess he got involved with, but I thought his views on cricket development were pretty sound.” Shane Warne’s shirt from
his Test farewell at the SCG hangs proudly on Marin’s office wall.

He grew so smitten that he pledged €5m for a sport that had only one club in the entire country before he became involved. When he first met with officials from Transylvania CC in late
2008, they were playing against bibulous touring sides at the national rugby stadium, on a plastic Flickx pitch hammered on top of a wooden board. Marin helped establish an official body, Cricket
Romania, which has drawn together the country’s cricketing pockets into four clubs in Bucharest, three in Timi
ş
oara, and another in Cluj, with more to come in
Constanta, Oradea and Ia
ş
i. Most are heavily reliant on expats, often Indian medical students, but Timi
ş
oara Titans are entirely
Romanian. In 2012, each club was obliged to field two Romanian-born players in league matches, and the board claim 300 Romanian children in 20 schools are now playing regularly – the best of
them with a hard ball. Cricket Romania applied for ICC Affiliate membership in 2012, and expected a positive response by June 2013; they are targeting Associate status by 2020.