Music and sport have a special relationship. The right soundtrack can elevate the biggest sporting occasion from something that is merely engaging to something that is decidedly epic. Think of how Waka Waka and Wavin’ Flag came to define the 2010 FIFA World Cup in South Africa, perhaps more than the football itself. In 2011, the ICC Men’s Cricket World Cup also used music to seep into the consciousness of cricket fans. Its theme song, De Ghumaake (by Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy), is impossible to forget, inextricably interlinked with a tournament that saw India lift the World Cup after 28 years, that too on home soil. Twelve years later, the official track for the World Cup, as it returns to India, is Pritam’s Dil Jashn Bole, where Ranveer Singh’s campy dancing exhibits more excitement than it evokes.
Compare De Ghumaake’s upbeat tunes, cheeky lyrics and overall zing with Dil Jashn Bole’s lacklustre tunes, unimaginative lyrics and overall insipidity and you have a microcosm of the differences that characterise the two World Cups. Differences that can be summed up in one word — vibe. Whereas 2011 felt like an unfettered carnival, a celebration of cricket where anything and everything was possible, 2023 feels more like a controlled circus, the sort of event (with all its bureaucratic implications) where hype and buzz become hashtags rather than sensations. The fact that there is no footage of actual cricket in Dil Jashn Bole tells its own tale, an unconscious reflection of how India’s biggest sport is now more concerned with the curation of storytelling than the creation of stories.
A format meant for the market rather than the masses
An ecstatic Yuvraj Singh after India beat Australia in the quarter-finals in 2011, a stage of the tournament that has been scrapped altogether for 2023 Getty Images
Think of your favourite World Cup matches over the years and chances are they will have one thing in common — jeopardy. And nothing in an international tournament sparks more jeopardy than knockout matches, where elimination and heartbreak are inevitable. Which is why the format for this year’s World Cup is frustrating, since it only has room for three knockout games in the entire competition — the two semi-finals and the final. Back in 2011, the customary quarter-finals were retained, leading to a memorable clash between India and Australia in Ahmedabad.
Even more oddly, the number of teams has actually gone down from 14 in 2011 to just 10 this time around. Afghanistan and the Netherlands are the only so-called ‘minnows’ (the West Indies, two-time champions, are missing altogether), which ensures that giant-killing upsets, one of the most exhilarating features of a World Cup, will be even fewer in 2023. Initially, it beggars belief to think that cricket, which is trying its best to be a truly global sport these days, will scale down the participants for the tournament that still brings it its highest visibility. On digging deeper, though, the logic, however cold and calculated, surfaces.
The reason there are only 10 teams in the 2023 World Cup is simple — maximisation of broadcasting revenue. The presence of 10 teams allows the World Cup to follow a round-robin format where all teams face each other once before the top four make it to the semis. This means that favourites like India, Australia and England will have at least nine World Cup matches in front of television audiences even if they endure a disastrous run of form. This was not the case in 2011, when a less commercially inclined ICC had split the 14 teams into two groups of seven, providing a minimum of six games for each participant and a maximum of nine.
In other words, this is a World Cup meant more for the market than the masses.
Where exactly are all the tickets?
Cricket fans need their fair share of luck to land up with tickets to World Cup games this year, let alone ones signed by legends like Mahendra Singh Dhoni Getty Images
With less than a week to go for India’s opener against Australia in Ahmedabad, Bookmyshow, the official ticketing platform for the World Cup, was still showing the match tickets as “coming soon”. This after releasing a few thousand tickets in early September for the same tie, when cricket lovers had to frantically hop onto the website and pray that they did not miss out on a golden opportunity because of slow WiFi, or worse still, crashing servers. Meanwhile, rumours of tickets, especially for India’s games, selling for the price of an overseas vacation are flooding the country. There is speculation that those lucky enough to get a ticket, but not a hotel, plan on booking out hospital wards for accommodation!
In case you are struggling to remember similar chaos unfolding back in 2011, it is not down to your weak memory. While tickets were still hard to obtain back when the ICC and the BCCI were not as plump with cash as they are today, there was adequate time to plan and proceed with your matchday experience. Physical tickets were the norm, collection points were spread across cities and the World Cup schedule itself had been released well in advance (the norm is to publish the World Cup itinerary at least a year before play begins, a deadline flouted by several months for 2023). Even though VVIPs were still entitled to their privileged slots in stadiums, there was enough space for the common cricket fan to enjoy a match the good, old way. No such luck in 2023, where to watch a big game in person seems equivalent to winning a lottery.
Cricket and its confused priorities
There was no doubt in 2011 that the 50-over World Cup represented the pinnacle of the sport. Even though Test cricket was still touted as the ‘toughest’, the World Cup was widely accepted as the crowning moment of a cricketer’s career. No wonder the obsession around Sachin Tendulkar’s quest to be a world champion, which was ultimately fulfilled at the sixth time of asking after a spectacular final in his home city of Mumbai. Cut to 2023 and nobody knows where the 50-over World Cup ranks in the sport’s pecking order. Is it more important than the men’s T20 World Cup or the more recently launched World Test Championship? Or, given the sheer weight of money and eyeballs, has the IPL already trumped them all?
In its era of confused priorities, cricket’s 50-over version has evolved into a neglected middle child whose parents are slowly giving up hope on their future prospects. Even the most ardent cricket nut will agree that the dreaded middle overs (between overs 11 and 40) of an ODI match are about as interesting as this year’s World Cup mascots, a superboy and a supergirl who may as well have been designed by ChatGPT. The two new white balls from either end have made ODIs even more of a batter’s game, meaning the novelty of 600-plus runs in a match has completely worn off. The contest between bat and ball has become lop-sided to the extent where it is more of a compromise for the bowler, compelled to play second-fiddle amidst a shower of sixes.
In 2011, there was a feeling of make-or-break around India’s fortunes, which is absent in 2023 Getty Images
To add to the ennui, this year’s World Cup lacks a compelling narrative. Unlike in 2011, when the desperation to see India win it all was at fever pitch, there is little that comes across as make-or-break in 2023. Lose this World Cup and there will be another T20 championship next year. Even among the other sides, with the possible exception of South Africa, nobody seems to have much of a point to prove or an aura to lose. England, the perennial underperformers of the World Cup, are the reigning champions; Australia have long stopped being invincible; Sri Lanka are in transition; Pakistan are probably glad just to have received their visas; and even New Zealand are no longer chasing their first ICC trophy. As for Bangladesh, Afghanistan and the Netherlands, even a fairytale semi-final run will not be enough to partake in more frequent bilateral series or meaningful Test cricket anytime soon.
What, then, is this World Cup for? Much like the latest season of a popular TV show, it has arrived purely because it had to. And now that it is here, it will be consumed, if not necessarily cherished. Having said that, as opposed to showbiz, there remains no script for the action to unfold on the pitch. Even if everything else has failed to make this World Cup feel as important as 2011, the cricket can still redeem the tournament. The cricket can still create enduring moments and memories. The kind of moments and memories that may not feel as unrepeatable as 2011, but should still fare better than 2023’s underwhelming build-up.
