Match fever and making sense of all this “March madness”

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Wijith DeChickera files a pitch report on the non-cricketing aspects of the ‘Big Match’ phenomenon from a cultural anthropological perspective

In a cricket-crazy nation like Sri Lanka, nothing (much) gets crazier than the so-called ‘Big Match’ The schools-side ‘Big Matches’ have come and gone. The Sydney-side ‘Big Match’ fizzled out in a trail of sparks. The fever-pitch excitement is beginning to die down, all round. But as “the boys” and the “boys and old boys” pack up their troubles in their old kitbags and smile, smile, smile, through the tears, there are some aspects of cricket, lovely cricket, that refuse to fade away. And in this piece, we examine some of the more recondite elements of ‘the summer game’ that have cultural anthropologists scratching their heads and muttering under their breaths, “So, what does it all mean?” Background In a cricket-crazy nation like Sri Lanka, nothing (much) gets crazier than the so-called ‘Big Match’. It is a pageant-like hive of social activity that precedes the actual cricketing event. Usually, it takes on a carnival atmosphere in the days leading up to (and even after) the game. Technically, the paraphernalia surrounding the annual schools’ encounter against their respective cricketing rivals has little – if anything – to do with cr

icket. However, it is an essential part of not only every schoolboy’s (and some schoolgirls’) educational career, but also the overall ethos of the game of cricket as it is played in the island. That it encompasses a host of facets – from a holy awe approaching the numinous, to downright hooliganism – has caused a cross section of society to respond to the ‘Big Match Syndrome’ with every reaction from hilarity to horror. Be that as it may, it has served a panoply of purposes: It has united Sri Lankan cricket aficionados across time, space, and essence. It has done so by providing a rite of passage for young manhood – and womanhood. It has offered a great equaliser for students from all walks of life who attend public schools. Therefore, it is worthy of being subject to the scrutiny of the amateur cultural anthropologist. After all, it is a primitive custom, ritual, and practice that has passed the test of time. Thus, this article on the ‘ins’ and ‘outs’ (no puns intended) of the cricketing syndrome that is the ‘Big Match’. Description The plethora of customs, rituals, and practices surrounding this syndrome are represented below, with a brief description of each. Sometimes, these are presented from an observer or learner point of view. Elsewhere, from the perspective of a participant. a.Flags The school Flag of the scholastic institutions gearing up to meet each other undergoes an explosion of sorts during ‘Big Match’ time. Flags of the requisite colour are reproduced in every size and shape. These are proudly displayed from cars, school vans, public transport such as buses and trains. They can be seen at home and abroad. In essence, everywhere one goes… and/or wherever one is likely to encounter ‘the enemy’ (a boy from a rival school). If and when such a chance encounter occurs, there is likely to ensue a melee in which the opposing camps attempt to divest their rivals of their flags. This schoolboy prank is termed ‘flicking’ – and the flicking of flags on roads, highways, and byways, to say nothing of at the very match, is a combative and honourable pastime. The boy who successfully flicks more than his fair share of flags is covered in glory… and is also often covered in blood and slime. The more gory, the more the glory. b.Cycle Parade This is something of a misnomer. A tradition whose origins are lost in antiquity, the Cycle Parade was originally a rally of schoolboys on bicycles who would proceed from their respective campuses to the cricketing grounds where the match was being held. Over time and with the advancement of motorised technology, the so-called ‘Cycle’ Parade came to include cars, carts, and chariots of every make, model, and year of manufacture. It has been noted by a wag that there is a wider array of vehicular transport at some schools’ Big Match Cycle Parade than there is at the annual Vintage Car Rally. In recent times, the authorities have cracked down on unlicensed vehicles and unruly drivers/riders. But the disposition of the powers that be has not entirely managed to rain on the parade of the revellers. Regrettably, many of the participants in this pageant are DUI (Driving Under the Influence of alcohol). And it is in response to such rank irresponsibility that the City Police have of late cracked down hard on the traditional Cycle Parades. A matter of great interest is the route to be taken by the Cycle Parade, for which a police permit has to be obtained by the Warden/Principal/Rector or the Match Stewards (senior staff and/or old boys). Traditionally, for older schools like Royal College and S. Thomas’ College, the route will perchance take the boys past their sister schools, Ladies’ College and Bishop’s College (see d. below for more on this). c.The Truck Tour In the middle period of the Cycle Parade’s history, a more robust element of vehicular traffic was added to the volatile mix of conveyances. It became par for the course for a convoy of jeeps, jalopies, and other souped up vans and trucks – often better suited for the junkyard than the main or high street – to accompany the more plebeian cyclists (pedestrians are neither permitted nor tolerated!). To be part of a ‘truck gang’ became a badge of prestige for every schoolboy in his teens. The attendant rite of passage – two to three days of trucking spent cruising and carousing on Colombo’s roads, avenues, paths, and even field and swamp – was not to be missed by any schoolboy worth his salt. Truck Tours would take budding adventurers from their doorstep to the homes of the girls of their dreams. It was de rigueur to ‘raid’ liquor shops, litter disreputable eateries with one’s detritus from hat collections, and loiter at lovely girls’ schools. Parents, police, and principals of other schools looked with disdain on this aspect of the Big Match syndrome – sometimes, with good cause. Stories of doings that would make the Rape of the Sabine Women look like a casual stroll in the park are legion – but these are, perhaps, best taken with a pinch of salt… mostly because sundown recollections of diurnal schoolboy doings are the stuff that legends are made of – half-truths and little lies kneaded in for good measure. d.Storming Girls’ School Gates Both Cycle Parades and Truck Tours would inevitably wend their way past the precincts of sister schools. But the sentiments nurtured in the bosoms of the hormonal young boys were anything but brotherly. The sight of a dilapidated jeep disgorging a truck-load of decadent youth would bring day terrors to decrepit security guards who manned the gates to paradise in the Good Old Days (a technical term signifying that the revellers were not good, not old, and generally up to all their mischief not during the day!). It was the norm for many generations in a bygone era that the students and light-hearted staff of the girls’ schools would enter into the spirit of fun and frolic exhibited by the excited youth. These miscreants – a cross between Rambo on the rampage and Romeo on the loose – would leap and sport and prance in the midst of a bevy of blushing girls and gaggle of hot and bothered teachers. Par for the course, they would leave a trail of litter and loutish youthfulness in well-kept gardens or even in well-appointed classrooms. In the midst of this Dionysian frenzy, only serious infractions of the “look but don’t touch” rule – part of the strict schoolboy code of conduct – brought the disapprobation of the authorities and the discontinuation of this erstwhile tradition. e.Boys’ Tent This was the enclosure at the cricket grounds where the boys of both schools, respectively, would be housed for the duration of the match. In much the same manner that “great wits are close to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide”, the dividing wall of hostility was often not enough to keep sportive youth with an eye on the main chance at flag-flicking satisfactorily apart. Regular incursions were valiantly checked by straw-hatted school prefects and tent stewards. But the regular melee was part and parcel of ‘the great game’ taking place out there in the middle, far from the madding crowd. f.Old Boys’ Tents The past pupils of each school vying for cricketing honours were not above entering into the spirit of the thing (the operative word being ‘spirit’). They had their beer mugs stoutly clutched, their beady eyes on the members of the fairer sex in the adjoining enclosure, and their comradely arms placed firmly enough (for inebriates, that is) on the shoulders of their drinking buddies next to them… and it didn’t matter in these tents if you were a friend or a foe. A unique sense of camaraderie prevails. “Wine, Women, and Song” about sums it up for cynics. But for the initiated, the Colts and Mustangs and Stallions tents – to take but a select example – were the playing fields of Eton, the battlefields of Waterloo, and the feasting halls of Valhalla all combined. To be fair by the spirit of journalistic reporting, there were often snakes in this Garden of Eden, this demi-Paradise; and they will be dealt with in g. below. g.Fashion Parade The fairer sex would turn out not only in their numbers, but also in all their finery, for the Big Match. While the event hinged on batting and bowling and fielding for the players and the aficionados of the game, the ultimate eventuality on which the fair maidens and their fond mothers had their eye was a ‘Big Match’ of a different sort. Fain they would to have a dashing young cricketer or chivalrous schoolboy bowl their maiden over! These girls and their chaperones were considered something of a social nuisance by many if not most of the corsair boys and the cavalier old boys. The only stakeholders in the Big Match who treated them with the courtesy they deserved would be the craven media. Cowardly paparazzi present on the perimeter would metaphorically snap up the lovely lasses and their ladylike escorts, and represent them glamorously in the next day’s newspapers. The Queen of Sheba in all her glory was not arrayed like some of these. But a note of jocularity and even vulgarity was often introduced into the courtly proceedings when these fine-feathered females would attempt to interact with their male friends and admirers vis-à-vis the game going on in the middle. For truth and beauty may be all we know and need to know... but only beauty can compromise the truth that cricket is not a game meant for girls (at least in the aggravated, exasperated, intoxicated opinion of umpteen indignant men and boys subject to the light-headed ideas of these femmes fatales!). h.Political Patronage A big part of the Big Match was the presence of the Powers That Be in the main pavilion. On these days of days, no matter how powerful or influential in the shadowy world beyond the sporting arena, these mandarins were joyfully and willingly transformed into mere mortals. They ate, they drank, they sang... willingly, together with the hoi polloi. No doubt political deals were cut all the same, and parliamentary discourse sharpened all the while – albeit in the most unparliamentary language! But for three glorious days of the local summer, the gods appeared to have come down to dwell among men and make their abode in the Elysian fields of gladness. i.Fights and fisticuffs Into each life, a little rain must fall. Few and far between are the boys and men who have not been touched by violence at the Big Match. As in the famous anecdote, the gladiators who attend the annual cricket encounter fall into three categories as far as brawls and blandishments go: Those who make it happen; Those who watch it happen; Those who wonder what happened? In the main, the clashes and conflicts and confrontations are soon forgotten in the larger interests and dominating spirit of the game… but many are the proud villains and valiants alike who bear the wounds and injuries of their martial action – as if they were sacred trophies instead of mere marks or scars. j.After Party In the evenings of the three days on which the Big Match is conducted, the activity spills over into happier hunting grounds. Hotels, bars, pubs, clubs, and restaurants are taken over and converted into morgues, where virtually dead bodies are propped up. Or perhaps mortuaries where post-mortems on the day’s happenings (and not all cricket, at that) are conducted into the wee hours – until it is time to go home… or go back to the grounds. At more elegant soirees, the flannelled heroes who had battled it out during the heat of the day – virtually forgotten until now – are feted and felicitated. Chivalry, courtesy, and romance are the order of the day (or night, as the case may be). k.Postscript Sadly, all good things must come to an end. After all has been said and done, the Big Match syndrome boils down to not whether the game was won or lost… but whether a good time was had by all. The result of the game is for statisticians and stiff-upper-lip party-poopers. Win or loose, we booze – that’s the crude motto of a majority of the Big Match participants. Analysis The metier of cultural anthropology may be applied with some measure of success to the phenomenon of the Big Match. This event, in wide and varied forms – depending on the respective sub-cultures of the schools concerned – has become a visible part of the metropolitan landscape in the first three months of any school year. Its meaning pendulums between being a rite of passage for schoolboys, to a culturally acceptable safety valve for student enthusiasm to express itself in extra-curricular social activity. Least charitable is the view that the true meaning of the Big Match is the scholastic equivalent of ‘bread and circuses’, whereby the mass of juveniles otherwise likely to rebel and revolt are indulged for a season to satiate their appetites for blood, guts, and sex. The introduction of the heady element of alcohol lends the otherwise Promethean proceedings a distinctly Bacchanalian aura. The reality of the Big Match as experienced by successive generations of boys, old boys, teachers, staff, enthusiasts, admirers, aficionados, sportsmen, media, women, law enforcement, et al., underlines the truism that cultures are constantly changing. The Big Match of fifty years ago, as much as the Big Match of five years ago, is not the same animal, mineral, or vegetable as it was ‘back then’ in ‘the glory days’ – if, indeed, it ever was what is was perceived to be. Which brings this writer neatly to his next point – that the customs, practices, and rituals under scrutiny here illustrate well the five basic assumptions of critical realism:

That there is a real world out there which can be experienced in part, at least.

This is especially true from the point of view of a younger boy who has never gone trucking, or a policemen not yet dispatched to be on Big Match duty... they both know there is such a beast – but for the moment, they can only hope for (or dread) it.

That there is a distinction between reality and one’s perception of it.

This becomes apparent with age and experience (experience being the word that older, wiser men give their mistakes made as boys). For instance, no two Old Boys’ Tents will (take Colts and Mustangs or Stallions) will ever narrate or relate to the same Big Match in exactly the same way.

That perception of reality is learned early, and assumed to be true, whether it is true or not. This is best illustrated by the conventional wisdom that Big Match, Cycle Parade, and Flicking Flags are the normal traditions prescribed for any healthy schoolboy. But, as students from state schools that do not have an annual cricket encounter know, there is much more to life than the civilised savages in urban public/private think!
That the reality is much larger and more complex than a single observer is able to grasp.

Any schoolboy who has been once to the arena knows this. No one can capture the kaleidoscope of events and eventualities that impress around the cricket grounds for three hot and heady days. Not even veterans of decades at Big Matches can claim to have been there, done that, and worn every T-shirt (so to speak) associated with the Big Match.

That the observer is important, but limited, in the observation process.

Add the filters of age, gender, economic status, early childhood experiences, present disposition and personality, mood, etc., to the mix. In short, there are as many ‘mental maps’ of the reality that is the Big Match as there are observers and/or participants. And everyone’s culturally loaded perception of that reality is more persuasive than reality per se. Which is why you will find that one man’s Big Match is not another boy’s Big Match. Also that a school principal can carp and cavil as much about the same annual encounter of the school he heads as a school prankster can wax eloquent about the calumny he heaped on his flag-flicking rivals’ heads. On the other hand, however, by dint of adopting a classroom definition of culture, there is no doubt that the Big Match subculture exists as a distinct subset of the respective culture of each school with an annual cricketing encounter. Such a subculture could be said to be “the comprehensive and integrated complex of ideas, feelings, and values, and the associated patterns of learned behaviour and products that characterise a particular school”. While the ‘associated patterns of learned behaviour and products that characterise a particular school’ may be the same from, say, Ananda to Nalanda, or Isipathana to Thurstan, the ‘ideas, feelings, and values’ attached to each of these will necessitate that the Big Match subculture will vary – even ever so slightly from, say, St. Peter’s to St. Joseph’s. Interestingly, the Big Match subculture spans the gamut from technical, through informal, to formal. ‘Technical’ aspects cover how to plan a Cycle Parade or what a Boys’ Tent must look like. ‘Informal’ includes the size and shape of school Flags, for instance. And ‘formal’ appertains to the code of conduct of Big Match revellers vis-a-vis principals, policemen, and pretty girls. Although a purely social phenomenon to the uninitiated, the Big Match has cultural, economic, and even religious connotations that escape the untrained eye. The planning and actual praxis of those stakeholders in the Big Match also undergirds the gap between ideal and real subculture. For all their planning, projecting, and programming, the convenors and conductors of the Big Match may be trumped by the triumph of the spirit of puckish humour and perfidious schoolboy pranks when it comes to how the event is played out. But for all that, both stewards and schoolboys will have an ‘emic’ or insiders’ perspective of the game... while anyone who has not been part of the public schools system will of a necessity have to adopt an ‘etic’ or outsiders’ point of view. Finally, a word on forms and meanings: The ‘form’ of the Big Match subculture is the cluster of non-cricketing activities associated with certain schools’ annual cricketing encounter. Its ‘conscious function’ may be to provide a legitimate channel through which non-participants in the game (students/spectators) can offer support to the sportsmen representing the respective schools, while the ‘unconscious function’ may be to offer an outlet to suppressed schoolboy enthusiasms that rise to a fever pitch at the time of the traditional Big Match. The ‘uses’ suggest a rich and diverse subculture, spanning a spectrum from socially licit (congregation at a venue) to sexually loaded (courtship in the extreme) expressions. The ‘meaning’ attributable to the Big Match subculture may variously be interpreted to be a psycho-social phenomenon (carnival); a rite of passage (schoolboys coming of age, old boys returning to their roots); or the flaunting of politically charged socio-economic status (bread and circuses). Conclusion Having been a schoolboy observer of, and participant in, the Big Match subculture over several years (as a trucker, a steward, and then a spectator – to name but a few of the roles played), this writer feels he is suitably situated to offer these conclusions: i.Good Educator It helps schoolboys gain valuable insights into adult world views and their component parts, such as law and order, decency and good conduct, healthy rivalry and honourable competition. It also socialises them into the role-paradigms that stand graduates of schools and colleges in good stead in later life... leaders, stewards, initiators, wards, guardians. ii.Gentle Encourager Many a youthful maiden would be born to blush and unseen and waste her sweetness on the desert air if not for the complex array of courtship rituals introduced and initiated by even the more egregious aspects of the Big Match culture. Love as practised in the rude trade of trucking may be a crude and rough-hewn thing, but it opens many lads’ eyes to the lovely charms of the opposite sex. Some are spared from being scarred for life by the gentle encouragement offered by the fairer sex who understands readily enough that boys will be boys, and that behind physical demonstrations of attraction and interest there lurk shy young men fit for romance and marriage. iii.Great Equaliser As in the game of cricket then, even in the Big Match culture now, the more perfidious distinctions of class and creed that characterise societal divisiveness are suspended – if only for a season ... but at least it is a start in life for young men desirous of heading in the right direction. In the Boys’ Tent, there are no cultural or social poseurs or superiors. Even in the rough and tumble of a rivalry inspired tussle, there is a democracy of sorts by which a youth from any background or persuasion can get his nose bloodied or his body bruised as well as the next. iv.Grand Enterprise Despite the brutal orthodoxy of egalitarianism evinced in iii. above, there is little doubt among those who have experienced the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat that cricket, crazy cricket – as seen up close and personal like nowhere else as in the Big Match – is the grandest enterprise of Man under the tropical sun. For a while, it turns sportsmen into demigods, boys from rival schools into worthy if still ignoble opponents, and girls into creatures from myth and legend. v.Glorious Experience Warts and all, the Big Match syndrome is the next best thing to transfiguration to give a schoolboy his first taste of life, death, and life beyond death. To be at a Big Match is to experience the reality that for man as for boy, the vast marvel is to be alive. To return to the humdrum existence of more scholarly pursuits is to know resurrection life. For there is always next year! Which makes plodding through yet another piddling term the abundant life – for with the turning of the cycle comes the return of the once and future Big Match cycle.