Just down the corridor from me at the Hotel Plaza in Havana is the suite where George Herman Ruth – Babe or the Bambino to baseball fans – stayed 90 years ago. It's a shrine of sorts to the first of baseball's marquee names, a supreme slugger who captivated fans and divided opinion wherever he went. In so many ways, Ruth was an iconic symbol of pre-Depression America, just as Sachin Tendulkar became the face of post-liberalization India. But while the Babe was a larger-than-life character in every sense, Tendulkar's time in the spotlight has been notable mainly for the near-complete absence of controversy and an almost painful shyness.
Baseball runs through the veins of people on this island. While a small number of top players have defected to the major leagues across the water, the vast majority of those who have played for a wonderfully talented amateur side have lived by the Teófilo Stevenson adage that a few million dollars is nothing compared to the love of eight million compañeros.
Having just covered the climactic stages of the ICC World Twenty20, it is enough to make you wonder why Cuba is nowhere in the picture when it comes to cricket. Certainly, there is an awareness that such a sport exists. At immigration I was grilled on account of being a journalist, until the young man asking the questions inquired which topics I covered. When I said sport, and cricket in particular, he took a step back and imitated a big hit that would have gone a fair distance over cow corner.
Given how the Chappell brothers played baseball as a winter sport, and how naturally athletic Cubans are, they'd have a crack Twenty20 outfit in no time with the requisite guidance. That, in turn, leads to the ICC and promotion of the game worldwide. The sooner they reduce the farce of a 50-over World Cup to a manageable four weeks or less with fewer teams the better. For spreading the gospel, the only format that works is Twenty20. Rugby realized that nearly two decades ago with Sevens and cricket has to follow suit if it harbors serious ambitions of being an Olympic sport.
Test cricket may be the pinnacle when it comes to skill and even drama but it's never going to rival the slam-bang version for popularity. To expect that would be to expect Vivaldi to outsell the Beatles. There's a place for the purist but snobbery is something the game can ill afford if it wants to be globally relevant.
Ideally, the World Cup would be restricted to just the top eight or 10 teams (once the anomaly of a tournament called the Champions Trophy disappears from the calendar) and the World Twenty20 could then be thrown open to more teams. Had Afghanistan or Kenya been able to play this time, we might have seen even more upsets. In a 50-over game, a team like Kenya wouldn't have a prayer against Australia or South Africa but in the abbreviated form anything's possible. You only have to look at Fiji's magnificent Sevens side and the emerging Kenyans to see how much deeper the talent pool becomes when an additional element of chance is introduced.
Perhaps in the future, teams touring the Caribbean could play a one-off Twenty20 game at a non-traditional venue such as Cuba or the Dominican Republic. Plant the seed and see how it germinates. Unlike many of the world's big banks, the ICC and some of the individual boards certainly have enough cash to spare.
Fortunately, though, money isn't everything. The sweetest aspect of the World T20 was the early exit of Australia, India and England, the three countries that seem to regard the Future Tours Program as some kind of personal fiefdom. While it could be said that the security situations in Pakistan and Sri Lanka have prevented more matches being scheduled there, it still doesn't explain the reluctance to invite them. The Pakistanis were once Asia's biggest draw card, while the Lankans have reached the final in two of the past three global events.
A recent study revealed that the Indian Premier League has already become one of the world's most lucrative sporting properties but it was probably their exclusion from it that provided one of the spurs for Pakistan's players on the world stage. The players who had their contracts torn up, including a certain Shahid Khan Afridi (Deccan Chargers), had a point to prove and they did so to thrilling effect. Like the Cubans, the Pathans have a natural aptitude for ball sports – the squash Khans, Jahangir and Jansher, both hail from Nawankali, Umar Gul's home town – and it would be foolish to underestimate the role cricket could play in keeping restless youth away from guns and other malignant influences.
The Taliban may have succeeded in shutting down girls' schools and hairdressing salons but if the reaction to the World Twenty20 triumph is any indicator they will need to fight a thousand years or longer to eradicate cricket's grip on the nation. "It means everything to us and our nation," said Younus Khan, another Pathan, and that's not hyperbole. Given the game's power to unite and the tendency of religious leaders to divide, maybe it's time to abolish all other faiths and make cricket the only religion on the subcontinent. Once that happens, maybe we can send a few missionaries over to Cuba.
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