Wednesday, December 5, 2001 Five men have made their Test debut at Mohali. Of these, Richard Dawson and James Foster received their English caps from captain Nasser Hussain on the ground, in front of television cameras. The Indians - Tinu Yohannan, Iqbal Siddiqui and Sanjay Bangar - had theirs delivered to their rooms, neatly packed, sponsor's logo emblazoned with the rest of their cricketing kit. It was impersonal, insensitive and very un-Ganguly like.

India is the land of ceremonies and rituals. Festivals go on for weeks, marriage celebrations last for days, and we find excuses to turn small events into big occasions. We call cricket our religion, yet we fail to recognise the importance of small gestures that could make a big difference.

It is another matter whether Yohannan, Siddiqui and Bangar should have been in the Indian squad. More undeserving people have played Test cricket for India and more will. It wasn't their fault that they had been picked by the national selectors. Yohannan was the first cricketer from Kerala to be picked for the Test side, and Siddiqui and Bangar were making their debuts after years in domestic cricket. It was a special day for them, and they needed to be made to feel special.

One big lament about Indian cricket is the notable absence of pride among Indian cricketers in the national colours. Yet our system does very little to instill that sort of pride. Test berths are handed out as dole and taken away on whims. Ganguly had a right to feel aggrieved that three new quick bowlers had been chosen without his knowledge, let alone consent, but once he was lumped with them, it was in the team's interests, and therefore his own, to make them feel part of the fold.

Perhaps we are giving too much importance to a team cap, but don't tell this to Steve Waugh, who values his original cap so much that he can't bear to replace it even though it's beginning to come apart. Australians wear their Baggy Green like a badge of honour and it is one of reasons why they play every match as if their lives depended on it. Waugh stepped beyond his brief when he called Ganguly an immature captain, but he was spot on about Ganguly's lack of appreciation of traditions and history

But Ganguly isn't to be blamed alone: he is merely a product of a system that places no value on national colours. Sunil Gavaskar, for one, is aghast how cavalier current cricketers are about the national uniform. He is appalled at the casualness with which Test cricketers pass on their sweaters, blazers and caps to friends and relatives. He was made to realise the importance of a national cap at an early age by his uncle Madhav Mantri, who would not let Gavaskar wear his own Test cap. He was allowed to touch it, but to wear it he had to earn the right.

Until the early '80s, it was considered sacrilegious for a first-class cricketer to wear a cap bearing the distinctive Indian emblem. A couple of years before he played Test cricket, Kapil Dev was once berated by Eknath Solkar for having the gall to put on an Indian sweater when he accompanied a few Indian seniors on an invitation tour to Nairobi. Kapil made a point of going up to Solkar to show off his brand-new sweater once he became its legitimate possessor.

But like many other things, the devaluation of the Indian emblem began with the commercialistion of cricket. There was a time when one corporate giant sponsored both the national team and domestic cricket. The distinctiveness of the Indian logo blurred when the same emblem started appearing on the gears of the domestic cricketer. It was convenient for the sponsor because a uniform emblem asserted its brand identity more emphatically. The Indian cricket board, smug with the bounty that sponsorship carried, didn't even notice - or just couldn't be bothered.

Perhaps we are making too much of it. Maybe Yohannan and co expected no better.

Sambit Bal is editor of Wisden.com, India.

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