TIME Asia | War and the Willow

	ASIA	FEBRUARY 9, 1998 VOL. 151 NO. 5
War and the Willow One force transcends Sri Lanka's ethnic conflict and helps hold the country together: cricket BY MASEEH RAHMAN For a decade and a half, the images have flashed across the world with depressing regularity: gun battles, land mine blasts, massacres. But while civil war rages, a different picture of Sri Lankan aggression has captured the world's attention: the nation's sportsmen pounding all comers on the cricket pitch. If the ethnic conflict destroyed Sri Lanka's reputation as a palm-fringed paradise, the performance of its cricket team over the last two years has bruised another long-held belief: that the islanders are a bunch of perennial losers. Sri Lanka's stylish cricketers not only beat favored Australia in March 1996 to win the last World Cup, but have since gone on to win four more international tournaments. Along the way, they have set six major world records, including the highest number of runs in an innings in both classes of cricket: five-day Test matches, as well as the faster-paced One-Day Internationals. Cricket stars are Sri Lanka's heroes, and the nation is now dotted not just by palm trees but also by improvised pitches full of young men swinging bats. "No matter where you are, on a city street or in a paddy field, you will see cricket being played," says national team captain Arjuna Ranatunga. "People have become obsessed with the game." Cricket fever has even transcended the island's ethnic conflict. Though the national team is dominated by Sinhalese players, one of its leading bowlers, M. Muralitharan, is a Tamil. In 1995, when Muralitharan was accused of "chucking" the ball (instead of bowling without bending his arm), the other players rallied behind him. The cricket field is perhaps the only place where the cease-fire holds. "When a match is on, you'll find both Tamil and Sinhala nationalists waving the flag and cheering for Sri Lanka," says Arjuna Parakrama, professor of English at Colombo University. Sri Lanka is that rare country where a cricket spectator has gained national celebrity. Lionel Navaragodagedera, 39, a building maintenance supervisor known for his lusty cheering, is sponsored by companies to tour with the team and has already visited nine countries. Says the No. 1 fan: "Sri Lanka and cricket are one and the same. This game has united the people." As long as the Sri Lankans keep winning, cricket seems to have the power to make people forget there are more important tasks at hand than swinging a bat at a fast-moving ball. Work suffers when matches are televised, and the government is widely suspected of trying to blunt the impact of unpopular measures, like food-price increases, by announcing them when the team is doing well. "People are so happy that Sri Lanka has won that they do not make a big fuss about these things," says Herath Banda, a Colombo security guard. All the giddiness is creating some worrisome side-effects, however. "Victory at cricket," says Parakrama, "has become a national excuse for not performing in other areas of real importance, such as resolving the ethnic crisis or improving the economy." Sri Lanka has produced talented cricketers in the past, but it was only in 1995, after a coach and a physiotherapist were brought in from Australia, that the athletes were molded into a physically fit and internationally competitive team. Their success in the World Cup owed much to a daring and then-untested strategy: instead of opening an innings cautiously, batsmen assaulted the fielding side's bowlers from the word go. This allowed quick-scoring Sri Lanka batsmen such as Sanath Jayasuriya and Aravinda de Silva to rack up large scores. "We changed the way One-Day Internationals are played," boasts manager Duleep Mendis, a hard-hitting former batsman who helped fashion the team's aggressive play. Cricket is becoming big business as well. Multinationals like Singer, Coca-Cola and Pepsi are pumping millions of dollars into the game, sponsoring teams, organizing tournaments and promoting top stars. De Silva drives around in a Ferrari, Jayasuriya should rake in $1 million this year, and the team is about to clinch a three-year sponsorship deal worth $5.5 million. "Sport made Australia in the eyes of the world," says that country's former cricket captain, Bobby Simpson. "I think the same thing is happening for Sri Lanka." Until Ranatunga's boys showed that Sri Lankans could be world beaters, the country had never won anything more than amateur world billiard and snooker titles. Last year, as the cricketers picked up more trophies, sprinter Susanthika Jayasingha won a silver medal in the women's 100 m race at the World Athletic Championship in Athens. She is already Asia's fastest woman, and Sri Lankans are hoping she'll win the country's first ever Olympic gold in Sydney. No matter how bad the news from the war zone, success in sport may continue to cheer all Sri Lankans. With reporting by Waruna Karunatilake/Colombo
time-webmaster@pathfinder.com

One force transcends Sri Lanka's ethnic conflict and helps hold the country together: cricket

BY MASEEH RAHMAN

For a decade and a half, the images have flashed across the world with depressing regularity: gun battles, land mine blasts, massacres. But while civil war rages, a different picture of Sri Lankan aggression has captured the world's attention: the nation's sportsmen pounding all comers on the cricket pitch. If the ethnic conflict destroyed Sri Lanka's reputation as a palm-fringed paradise, the performance of its cricket team over the last two years has bruised another long-held belief: that the islanders are a bunch of perennial losers.

Sri Lanka's stylish cricketers not only beat favored Australia in March 1996 to win the last World Cup, but have since gone on to win four more international tournaments. Along the way, they have set six major world records, including the highest number of runs in an innings in both classes of cricket: five-day Test matches, as well as the faster-paced One-Day Internationals. Cricket stars are Sri Lanka's heroes, and the nation is now dotted not just by palm trees but also by improvised pitches full of young men swinging bats. "No matter where you are, on a city street or in a paddy field, you will see cricket being played," says national team captain Arjuna Ranatunga. "People have become obsessed with the game."

Cricket fever has even transcended the island's ethnic conflict. Though the national team is dominated by Sinhalese players, one of its leading bowlers, M. Muralitharan, is a Tamil. In 1995, when Muralitharan was accused of "chucking" the ball (instead of bowling without bending his arm), the other players rallied behind him. The cricket field is perhaps the only place where the cease-fire holds. "When a match is on, you'll find both Tamil and Sinhala nationalists waving the flag and cheering for Sri Lanka," says Arjuna Parakrama, professor of English at Colombo University. Sri Lanka is that rare country where a cricket spectator has gained national celebrity. Lionel Navaragodagedera, 39, a building maintenance supervisor known for his lusty cheering, is sponsored by companies to tour with the team and has already visited nine countries. Says the No. 1 fan: "Sri Lanka and cricket are one and the same. This game has united the people."

As long as the Sri Lankans keep winning, cricket seems to have the power to make people forget there are more important tasks at hand than swinging a bat at a fast-moving ball. Work suffers when matches are televised, and the government is widely suspected of trying to blunt the impact of unpopular measures, like food-price increases, by announcing them when the team is doing well. "People are so happy that Sri Lanka has won that they do not make a big fuss about these things," says Herath Banda, a Colombo security guard. All the giddiness is creating some worrisome side-effects, however. "Victory at cricket," says Parakrama, "has become a national excuse for not performing in other areas of real importance, such as resolving the ethnic crisis or improving the economy."

Sri Lanka has produced talented cricketers in the past, but it was only in 1995, after a coach and a physiotherapist were brought in from Australia, that the athletes were molded into a physically fit and internationally competitive team. Their success in the World Cup owed much to a daring and then-untested strategy: instead of opening an innings cautiously, batsmen assaulted the fielding side's bowlers from the word go. This allowed quick-scoring Sri Lanka batsmen such as Sanath Jayasuriya and Aravinda de Silva to rack up large scores. "We changed the way One-Day Internationals are played," boasts manager Duleep Mendis, a hard-hitting former batsman who helped fashion the team's aggressive play.

Cricket is becoming big business as well. Multinationals like Singer, Coca-Cola and Pepsi are pumping millions of dollars into the game, sponsoring teams, organizing tournaments and promoting top stars. De Silva drives around in a Ferrari, Jayasuriya should rake in $1 million this year, and the team is about to clinch a three-year sponsorship deal worth $5.5 million. "Sport made Australia in the eyes of the world," says that country's former cricket captain, Bobby Simpson. "I think the same thing is happening for Sri Lanka."

Until Ranatunga's boys showed that Sri Lankans could be world beaters, the country had never won anything more than amateur world billiard and snooker titles. Last year, as the cricketers picked up more trophies, sprinter Susanthika Jayasingha won a silver medal in the women's 100 m race at the World Athletic Championship in Athens. She is already Asia's fastest woman, and Sri Lankans are hoping she'll win the country's first ever Olympic gold in Sydney. No matter how bad the news from the war zone, success in sport may continue to cheer all Sri Lankans.

With reporting by Waruna Karunatilake/Colombo