5th Column

My dear Shammi,

I thought of writing to you because the whole country is talking about you now. That is after you decided to “resign” after being in charge of cricket for over seven years. I’m sorry to say this, but most people are very happy to see you go. That must surely mean something.

In recent years, there was a popular view that we can even change our country’s leaders and amend  its Constitution but we can’t change you being in charge of our cricket. In fact, after you took over, we have had four Presidents and only Anura sahodaraya could get rid of you.

That has been a long standing problem, even before you took over. Before that, it was the Dark Horse who made a fine art of leading Sri Lanka Cricket through vote buying. Satellite once sent her brother Clifford to contest him but the Dark Horse won, by a large margin too.

That election was a mini-war. Gun-toting individuals gate-crashed Maitland Place. Claims of vote rigging ended in court. Ironically, Satellite, under whose watch the notorious Wayamba provincial polls were held in January that year, couldn’t get her brother elected in March!

Though a few years senior to the Dark Horse at the school in Campbell Place, he was at first your mentor at Maitland Place. Then, when he couldn’t contest anymore, you were his proxy. Later, you bettered him. He did four terms for five years. You did three terms for seven years.

You were hard to dismiss, Shammi. We recall how Roshan from Polonnaruwa tried to get rid of you during Uncle Ranil’s time. He even got Parliament to pass a rare unanimous resolution endorsing your removal. He also appointed an Interim Committee headed by Captain Cool.

That lasted just three weeks. Roshan told Parliament his life was in danger, pointing fingers at your friends in high places. He said Uncle Ranil must choose between him and you. He was unceremoniously sacked by Uncle Ranil. Today, his political career in ruins, he is with Dilith.

Meanwhile, you ran for help to your friend, Jay Shah. He got the ICC to suspend our country for ‘political interference’. We had no choice. We took you back. That is when people said we can change governments but not you. They called SLC ‘Shammi’s Limited Cricket’.

You didn’t disagree. Asked about SLC’s finances, you infamously said it generated its own money so it was not answerable to anyone, ignoring that it was representing our country. You took care to dole out money to other sports and key people, so that you kept everyone happy.

On the field though, we suffered. Our cricketers became spoilt brats lacking in discipline and prioritising chasing money in overseas leagues before doing justice to their country. We began losing to minnows in the game often. For the first time, our fans began jeering them.

Time was when our cricketers were in the news for Sanath and Kalu’s daring tactics, Murali’s world record  or Aravinda’s legendary batting. Now they are in the news for paternity cases, being charged with assaulting women while on tour, or in court disputes over gold chains!

Scandal after scandal hit both our players and SLC, but what mattered to you, Shammi, was that you were still at the top. You forgot that for a nation starved of achievements, cricket was more than a mere sport. It was almost a religion. It is how we made our mark in the world.

Cricket also united us. The guns fell silent in the North when we played that World Cup final in Lahore – although the Tigers did attack Colombo with light aircraft at our next cup final. The nation stood as one, embracing and saluting Murali when he achieved his world record.

You ignored the passion cricket generated, believing you were bigger than the game. You felt  you can carry on if you kept certain people happy. You even promised Anura sahodaraya a stadium in the North. When it was said you will step down, many took it with a pinch of salt.

We are not privy to how Anura sahodaraya did it. Our guess is he may have had a word with his friend Modi, who must have had a word in Amit Shah’s ear, and he may have told his son what he must do. Whatever the tactic, it worked. You resigned, Ranwala style, reluctantly.

Hats off to Anura sahodaraya for getting rid of you. He did what three of his predecessors didn’t or wouldn’t do. It is a great achievement for someone whose officials can’t transfer 2.5 million dollars properly. It is also one of the very few promises the ‘maalimaawa’ has kept.

The glorious uncertainties of cricket have caught up with you, finally. Whether your actions will be investigated or whether they won’t be, in return for resigning remains to be seen. How do you want your dismissal recorded – caught, stumped, run out, timed out or retired hurt?

Yours truly,

Punchi Putha

PS: For someone who is reputed as a smooth operator, you may have missed a trick here, Shammi. Now, if you had 2.5 million dollars to spare – and I am sure you do – you could have offered that to cover up that deficit in the Treasury’s books to keep your job, don’t you think?