Strict adherence to a set of laws is always critical to the smooth running of any system. It’s essential for these laws to be codified in the clearest possible wording, covering every possible scenario and thus leaving practically nothing to an individual’s discretion and good sense of morals. A game of cricket, however, despite an elaborate set of laws that serve as the guiding principle for most situations, leaves some wriggle room for subjective interpretation of some laws. And players, in these instances, are expected to uphold the most deceptively coined phrase – spirit of cricket.
Running out a non-striker backing up too far while the bowler is still in the process of releasing the ball is one of those situations. Despite the fielding side being afforded every right to affect this mode of dismissal at will and the laws of the game deeming it entirely legitimate, the cricket community somehow has never forged a consensus over this act.
Infamously named after former India all-rounder Vinoo Mankad – who ran Australia’s Bill Brown out at the non-striker’s end, ‘Mankading’ has forever remained a grey area that inevitably raises a conscientious debate. And thus entirely unsurprisingly, it once again made headlines when another India all-rounder Deepti Sharma ran out England’s Charlie Dean in this fashion at a decisive moment in a recent ODI match between the two teams.
The English commentariat exercised little restraint, questioning the Indian team’s moral character and labelling the incident farcical. Their counterparts in the Indian media defended Sharma vehemently and called the criticism petty, bitter, and hypocritical. The noise around this conversation always follows a familiar theme and the political undertones that accompany the debate every time it spurs up are impossible to ignore.
The very invocation of the proverbial ‘spirit of cricket’ carries with it elitist connotations. There’s the implicit assumption that cricket and cricketers are to be held to a higher moral standard than those pursuing lesser working-class sports. It also doesn’t help that the sanctimonious harangues almost always come from middle-aged monarchists like Piers Morgan and Michael Vaughan – who even on a normal day ooze too much Tory energy to not make anyone uncomfortable.
Now, cricket’s spread in the Indian subcontinent is a legacy of the region’s colonial past and despite little history of on-field animosity between the two countries, there’s strong baggage of perceptions that the average Indian fan continues to associate with the English. And these perceptions aren’t the kindest for obvious reasons. Elitist sanctimony from the English, therefore, is going to have fewer and fewer takers moving forward.
The Indian cricket fans are just getting used to the new sense of power the BCCI’s monopolistic rise has lent them. There’s this unmistakable grin of schadenfreude every time concerns are raised over the IPL potentially upsetting the old order. But apparently getting to flex the financial muscle isn’t just enough. India now wants to set its own narrative too. And for a new narrative to sell, it’s important for the old one to be rendered outdated and unrepresentative of popular will. The process of this decolonisation requires acquiescent observance of the “spirit of cricket” to be made a thing of the past.
But an exclusively political nature of the debate means any cricketing nuance in the argument is reduced to an afterthought. A disproportionate focus on calling out the colonial rhetoric does a disservice to aspects of the practice of running out a non-striker that does merit a sincere conversation – the law itself, its essentiality, its implementation, and the consequences of its widespread use. Those trigger-happy at the sight of a British narrative losing its currency have started calling for normalising and scaling up the practice without bothering to care too much about what it means for the game.
The primary reservation against – for the lack of a better word – ‘Mankading’ is it happens outside what most people see as active scope of play. The wording in the MCC manual is quite unambiguous in defining the bowler’s runup as the start of play. However, any skilful interaction between the two competing entities only begins once the ball is released. To the viewer, therefore, the act of Mankading happens outside an active contest and it’s extremely disorienting to the eye trained to view a sporting action a certain way.
Another reason a majority of players themselves are reticent about the practice is it is an entirely skill-free mode of dismissal. A wicket is the most decisive moment in a game of cricket and something both the players and the public view as a reward for an exceptional piece of skill. Mankading doesn’t involve great bowling, exceptional catching or athletic fielding.
And while it’s true that in many instances, conventional modes of dismissals too are a product of dumb luck, Mankading by its very design is skill-free and rewards the lack of sill. To suggest a bowler alertly spotting the non-striker leaving the crease early too is a cricketing skill is a rather non-serious cope.
A postage stamp of Vinoo Mankad. Photo: India Post, Government of India, GODL-India
As it’s been repeatedly observed, players do not ordinarily resort to this practice since it’s not a particularly gratifying one. Professionals playing sport at the highest level are ultimately in the business of showmanship and live for the validation their exceptional abilities bring. Any practice that equalises the scales in favour of those less skilful is naturally not the most appealing to players who’ve spent a lifetime honing skills that put them above the rest.
A Rohit Sharma bowling part-time looseners would be just as adept at Mankading as a Jasprit Bumrah – perhaps even more so, given Bumrah in his delivery stride would be way too pre-occupied to track the movements of the non-striker compared to a part-timer who won’t mind deceptively setting up a wicket opportunity by not completing his action.
It’s not to suggest though that a non-striker stealing an extra inch at the start of play is not a problem that needs a fix. In a close contest, every additional run that may have been completed by gaining any advantage may be of game-changing impact. There are too many habitual offenders who leave the crease before the ball is released and it certainly needs redressal. One effective way to completely disincentivise this practice is to enforce run penalties every time a player commits the offence.
The idea behind backing up is to steal that decisive extra run that gives the team a significant advantage. If it instead ends up deducting runs from the team’s kitty, it makes no sense for players to attempt stealing a tight run, which anyway involves considerable risk. In addition to acting as a deterrent, run penalty also takes the matter completely out of players’ hands, thus unburdening them from having to take a call that might invite moral scrutiny.
Cricket already has technology where no-balls are now called in real-time by a TV umpire. Tracking the non-striker’s movement, therefore, doesn’t require a massive technological upgrade. This codifies a provision in cricket’s laws that actively discourages an unsporting tactic without the players having to employ an unpleasant mode of dismissal.
Because as long as the law allows for running out a non-striker outside any active action, players are at no fault to want to leverage it to their advantage. It’s entirely unfair to put the moral burden on Sachithra Senanayake or Keemo Paul when neither is doing anything that can be deemed illegal.
The problem is in the larger worldview of the sporting community – that the word of law doesn’t in itself extend to the popular consensus over what’s supposed to be ethical. Luis Adriano didn’t do anything illegal when he decided to score a goal off a pass given away in good faith to the opposition to begin play post an injury. Nick Kyrgios’ underarm serves are entirely legal. So was Greg and Trevor Chappell’s infamous moment against New Zealand at the time.
Yet, each of these continues to be universally frowned upon. And while it’s impossible for all sides to agree on what’s ethical, there’s little doubt that these acts make for low quality, substandard viewing experience. As long as they remain outliers, the odd instances are going to spice things up momentarily – heated TV studio debates and verbose op-eds may follow. But their widespread use in decisive moments at the biggest of stages isn’t going to make for the prettiest of sights and even the most fervent of advocates are going to have had enough of it sooner than they realise.
Many believe the objection to Mankading is strictly a manifestation of English smugness. But other than Ravichandran Ashwin – arguably the loudest advocate of the practice – no prominent member of the Indian men’s team too has declared their unqualified support for Deepti Sharma. Perhaps they too aren’t particularly comfortable with the practice in principle. Ashwin himself learned this the hard way when his appeal got withdrawn by his captain Virender Sehwag at the insistence of Sachin Tendulkar in 2012.
It may well be a generational thing but it’s definitely not as culture-specific as many in the Indian media seem to have suggested. In any case, however, it can indeed become exasperating to hear pietisms from the likes of James Anderson and Stuart Broad every time a debate on the subject resurfaces. Like clockwork, it’s followed by some quirky repartees highlighting their questionable on-field conduct in past.
But despite the obvious temptation to dunk on that empty phrase ‘spirit of cricket’ at every opportunity, those with the platform and reach to influence public opinion might want to just change course a bit. Perhaps when the debate is sparked the next time – and spark it will – they might want to steer clear of the tired anti-colonial rhetoric and push for a more meaningful conversation that explores some realistic and achievable alternatives to what continues to be called, not charitably, ‘Mankading’.