Sreesanth: The rise and fall of a Malayalee

The biggest news in the Indian sports scene last week (unless you’re a die-hard fan of the Kabaddi league and care only about the Bhatinda MudWrestlers) was the spot fixing scandal in the IPL. Shanthakumaran Sreesanth, the Tiger of Kerala, the Pride of Mallu-land, the shiny hero from down below, fell from his throne in the skies, and hit the ground, face first. Or so, the reactions of most Malayalees would lead you to think. Well, atleast reactions of Mallu aunties.

Kerala’s contribution to Indian cricket is not something to boast about. Tinu Yohannan came, and went. His career wound up in a hurry (as if it had the runs, was touching cloth and badly needed to use the restroom) having played only 6 matches in total. (Let’s not even mention the Kochi Tuskers as a contribution from Kerala. Hmm, but they were a team based in Kerala and did have a slot in the points table in IPL ’11, which wasn’t at the bottom, so maybe they do count). Then, along came Sreesanth. To Malayalees, it was like the warmth you get when you hold a baby to your bosom. Soon they realised the warmth came from the baby’s wee. On further investigation, they discovered that the baby had pooped. Seeing his antics on the field, most of Kerala had the kind of apologetic look on their face that people have when their pet dog starts licking its privates in polite company.

Nonetheless, he was all we had, and grudgingly or willingly (in case of the aunty-folk), we took him to be ours. There were small moments of glory when we could genuinely be proud of him, like the time when he didn’t drop Misbah-ul-Haq’s catch in the T20 finals. Or when he bowled a dot ball. But when he took a wicket, Mama Mia, were we proud!

The spot fixing absolutely destroyed any respect he had from anybody in the country, and Kerala, particularly. To us, he was always the kid who decided to choose dancing for a career instead of engineering or medicine. Never someone we were out-rightly proud of, but someone who in his own way, did manage to bring smiles to our faces, and occasionally, do us proud. He was then a Malayalee first and an Indian later. He was never the answer to a state’s cricketing dreams or prayers, but he was what we were given. Now, while the whole country mocks and jeers at him, (and rightly so) should we do so as well?