Ross Garland
A SECOND LOOK
In 1920 the world-beating Chicago White Sox baseballers stunned the United States by revealing that they had thrown the World Series of 1919.
The World Series, that pinnacle of baseball achievement, was won that year by the Cincinnati Reds. After the disappearance of crucial evidence, eight players were acquitted by a national commission.
Subsequently a commissioner Landis was appointed. He banned the eight players from baseball for life. Shoeless Joe Jackson, the record-breaking batter and fielder, was never admitted into baseball’s Hall of Fame (an issue still contested today). A 10-year-old fan was reputed to have shouted out to Jackson: “Say it ain’t so, Joe!”
The “Black Sox Scandal” rocked the loyalty of baseball fanatics everywhere, as doubt grew in the ensuing years over the outcomes of a number of games. The root of the problem was money. The Black Sox were severely underpaid by the miserly owner of the club.
The title of “Black Sox” was not a dubiously racist allusion to the moral depravity of the team, but was a nickname the team inherited due to their not washing their kit as a protest against the said owner’s attempt to cut the costs of laundry bills.
These extremely talented sportsmen were being paid far less than players in less successful teams. They became an obvious target for bookmakers and gamblers, who sought to hassle the disenchanted and financially unstable.
Eventually the majority of the World Series White Sox team were on the books of gamblers. They paid the price as a number of bright, but as yet unfulfilled careers, were curtailed. The result of the ban was to rip the heart out of the Chicago White Sox club, which has not won a World Series title since 1917, 1919 being probably their next best opportunity. It was left to the legendary Babe Ruth to restore faith in American baseball, and to fill the stands once again.
Eighty years later, and a smaller country on the tip of Africa finds itself embroiled in a similar saga of deceit and loss of faith.
Cricket, baseball’s purer, older brother and perhaps the purest sport of them all, finds itself in the midst of a crisis of fundamental proportions. Like baseball, the structure of cricket lends itself to bribes and corruption. People can bet on individual performances, in a manner and detail unlike other high-profile sports. The mathematical and statistical element of the sport creates unending permutations, which must be very appealing to the gambling world.
The Proteas find themselves in a world of shame. Most of the squad over the past few years have been party to discussions of match-fixing. A few have accepted bribes, though through fantastic timing of injury or memory loss have not performed on the deals. And then of course Hansie Cronje has taken money from all and sundry, and then some. Why? The only rational motivation seems to be money, or a more negative word, greed.
The Black Sox felt underpaid and unappreciated. Do the Proteas feel the same?
“A grade” players are paid in the region of R25E000 a month. This is less than successful, but unknown, local lawyers earn.
These globe-trotting sportsmen are heroes throughout the world. They are superstars. Icons. It is feasible that they felt they were not being compensated for their full worth. Justifications of paying off parental debt aside, the offer of R100E000 for a day’s work may at times have felt more befitting of the status of a cricketing superstar, especially when you convert the “A grade” salary into pounds or dollars.
Having established a motivation, what do we do with the culprits? Do we pursue the life ban route? One does not want to be self-righteous. One must be forgiving. Perhaps in a similar situation one might have demonstrated the same weakness of character. But this sort of reasoning can be applied to other criminal acts. At some level I may be able to empathise with the killer who kills for socio-economic reasons. However, this means I do not demand base retribution for his acts but believe in rehabilitation – forgiveness not immunity.
One choice then is to forgive all players involved, and to grant immunity. This makes sense in terms of the South African participation in match-fixing being probably a small piece of a much larger pie. This leaves a greater problem unsolved though.
What can be done to prevent the sport being relegated to the same status as professional wrestling, enjoyed for its artistry, its orchestration and its inevitability – accepted by the audience like at a rendition of Shakespeare? After all, nobody is bigger than the game. It is a matter of restoring public faith in the sport.
Should we not ban for life all those who have deceived the public, as was done in 1920 to the Black Sox players? This may be the only way to restore faith in the sport. For it will be difficult not to be cynical when Herschelle Gibbs next drops Steve Waugh. There may be a decline in the achievement of the national team. But people will begin to believe again.
Then at some point a Babe Ruth will emerge from the shadows and remind us how beautifully pure and poetic the gentle art of cricket is.