All that glitters is not gold!

Faisal Shariff in Madras

IT is strange how different reality can be from perception.

Take for example that feeling we all had, that in the wake of the match-fixing scandal, public interest in the game has died down. The public, we nodded wisely, have become cynical, they no longer enjoy the game like they used to; they can't seem to work up the same enthusiasm because blah...

And then you walk into the M A Chidambaram stadium, where three scratch Indian teams -- India Seniors, India A and India B -- have been playing each other in the Challenger Trophy Series, sponsored by Hero Honda.

You don't find a full house -- it would be miraculous if we did, given the capacity of the stadium. What you do find, though, is the kind of numbers that could fill up stadia in the West Indies, or New Zealand, or Zimbabwe for a Test match. Veteran photographer Pradeep Mandhani laughs and says, "Hell, I have seen lesser crowds in Australia for a Test."

These crowds cannot be equated with the stragglers who turn up to watch the training camp. They get in free, and the chief attraction is being able to wander around, and to collect autographs. This crowd that turns up for the Challengers pays its way in, sits in the stands, applauds good shots and good bowling and good fielding, and have a good time.

Scratch, too, another misconception -- that it is only Sachin, Sourav and Rahul that get the adrenalin pumping. The biggest cheers thus far have been for a guy no one had really heard of before, but who has suddenly become the cynosure of all eyes (including those of the selectors, who have begun to sit up and take real notice).

He is Dinesh Mongia.

The tall, strapping lad has become the local favourite for the power and class of his strokeplay against spin and seam alike -- his drives through the off and the execution of his pull shots standing-out in his repertoire. Huge applause greets each shot -- while, back in the pavilion, selectors and cognoscenti, including the senior stars, have been nodding happily at his temperament. What you notice, if you look beyond the flash-bang-crackle of his shot-making, is the fact that he is ice cool out in the middle, completely unflustered, unflappable, very self-assured.

Sure, you could argue that he is not facing the Australians -- but when he, playing for India B, faced India Seniors the other day, Srinath gave him a searching examination. As did Agarkar and Prasad on Wednesday. At one point, it seemed as if Agarkar was looking to really challenge him -- but the youngster handled it well.

It does, of course, lead to a piquant situation -- India has, in its middle order, three "undroppable" batsmen in Sachin, Sourav and Rahul. VVS Laxman has been batting with fluency and grace -- in fact, he has been the best, the classiest batsman on view thus far (this is being written before Thursday's final). Then there is Hemang Badani -- composed, committed, classy, and temperamentally very, very strong -- who, too, has been scoring consistently, and well. And you have space for just one of them in the batting line-up, as things stand today.

The selectors should be happy -- at least in one area, India seems to be having an embarrassment of riches.

The jury is still out on who they will pick -- but our guess would be that Laxman and Badani will make the final squad. Which is a bit sad for Mongia -- but then, the lad is young yet, he has time on his hands.

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THE more things change the more they remain the same, is an axiom the Indian cricket team could well adopt as its motto.

Take fitness, for instance. You would think, wouldn't you, that with a full-time physiotherapist in place, and with a no-nonsense coach at the helm, that is one area we would have improved dramatically in?

You would think wrong. The thing is, physios can apply their minds and devise regimens. Coaches can talk their heads off about the need for fitness. But, finally, it all comes down to the individual -- if he can't, or won't, work at it, then it won't happen.

The time of reckoning came a day before the Challengers began, when the team was assembled in the middle for the famous bleep test. For the uninitiated, here is how it goes: Two posts are placed in the middle of the ground at stipulated distances. The player being tested stands at one post, and when given the signal, begins walking towards the other pole. The idea is to get there before it bleeps.

Then he turns around and heads for the first post -- again, aiming to beat the bleep. And so on. On each leg, the interval between the bleeps lessen, so that the player, having started off at a gentle walk, is being progressively pushed to go faster and faster, at a preprogrammed rate.

On the bleeper's scale, 11.5 is the cut-off point -- cross that, and you are in reasonable condition. The higher you can go, the fitter you are. Fail to cross 11.5, though, and it is a clear signal that you haven't been looking after yourself, you haven't been taking the off-season training programme as seriously as you should have.

And guess what? Six players from the squad of 25 failed the test.

Andrew Leipus, when asked, refused comment. All he would say is that the team has introduced a rewards and punishment system, and that if any player fails, there is a programme in place to bring him up to scratch before the camp ends. Ask him specifics, though, and he refuses to utter a word.

But then, you don't need the team physio to tell you the facts -- all you have to do is sit in the pavilion, and watch. If you did that, you would have seen the six players fail -- a couple of them even giving up without going the distance.

The real surprise, though, lies in the identities of the failures. Dinesh Mongia you could understand -- the lad hasn't been part of the team, and, therefore, was not privy to the regimen until he joined the camp. But Nayan Mongia, Sunil Joshi and Sadagoppan Ramesh are veterans, and would have been expected to take the regimen seriously. They didn't -- and failed.

But the real surprise lies in the identity of the other two failures -- like, would you believe, Sachin Tendulkar, and Sourav Ganguly?

One, a former captain. The other, the incumbent. Both the seniormost stars, the ones we expect to lead by example, the ones the younger lot look up to. To see them struggle was a let-down; to realise that they hadn't been taking fitness with due seriousness was a disappointment.

When this team did not have a physio, every member of the side talked himself hoarse about how other countries had the benefits of such expertise, and how they themselves were handicapped. The media took up the cause and made war on the BCCI, the public outcry was deafening, the pressure piled up and finally, the BCCI caved in and hired a full-time professional.

Today, if the BCCI turned around and asked these players, "Hey, you guys made such a hue and cry about a physio, we gave you one, is this how you take advantage?", I wonder how these players would respond.

Talent alone does not cut it today -- to paraphrase the fellow, talent is one per cent, the other 99 per cent is sheer, unremitting hard work.

It is a lesson that this team -- or at least some key members thereof -- apparently haven't learnt, yet.

Illustrations: Uttam Ghosh