Cricket’s drinking culture

Legendary former Ceylon captain Mahadevan Sathasivam must be spinning in his grave at the news that Sri Lanka Cricket plans to introduce random alcohol tests following concerns about a drinking culture within the team. Satha’s batting feats are the stuff of legend. So, too, are the stories of his exploits at the bar. Appropriately, Tamil Union named its bar after one of the game’s most colourful characters.

Cricket has always enjoyed a drink. Sometimes several. The tales have been passed down through generations.

David Boon, recently elected chairman of Cricket Australia, famously put away 52 cans of beer on a flight from Sydney to London for an Ashes tour. When the press sought Ian Chappell’s opinion, the former Australian captain was hardly bowled over.

“In my day, 52 beers between London and Sydney would have virtually classified you as a teetotaller.”

Chappell’s team mates Rod Marsh, Doug Walters and Dennis Lillee were no strangers to the bar either. Once stumps were drawn, another session often began.

Shane Warne later carried that tradition forward with much the same enthusiasm he brought to tormenting batsmen. His own summary was typically uncomplicated: “I liked loud music, I smoked, I drank, and I bowled a bit of leg spin. I don’t have any regrets.”

Ian Botham’s drinking stories could fill a volume almost as thick as the one devoted to his exploits with bat and ball. England’s famous 12th man, Gladstone Small recently recalled that Botham’s instructions for a drinks break were clear enough: plenty of beer in the bottle, topped up with lemonade.

England’s celebrations after their remarkable 2005 Ashes triumph also became cricketing folklore, with Andrew Flintoff very much in the thick of things. By the time the victory parade reached the reception at 10 Downing Street, some of England’s heroes were considerably less steady on their feet than they had been at the crease.

Sri Lanka had its own traditions. Bandula Warnapura, the country’s first Test captain, generously hosted gatherings in his hotel room. These were often exercises in team bonding and attendance extended to the teetotallers. When D.S. de Silva turned up, the captain made sure there were soft drinks of his choice.

Warnapura understood that a dressing room needed to pull in one direction. Players still recall how far they would go to back him. The gatherings helped forge those bonds, although he also knew where to draw the line. Once schoolboys began breaking into the national side, these occasions were placed firmly out of bounds for the youngsters.

Employed at Ceylon Tobacco alongside several leading cricketers, including Anura Tennekoon and Ranjan Madugalle, Warnapura apparently ensured that cigarettes were never in short supply either.

Those were different times. Tobacco and alcohol brands were woven into cricket’s fabric. The Benson & Hedges competitions, the VB Series and the Rothmans tournaments were familiar fixtures. The World Cup Sri Lanka won in 1996 carried the Wills name.

Over time, restrictions on advertising and sponsorship tightened as concerns grew over the influence of such marketing on younger generations. Cricket, too, had to move with the times.

So why is Sri Lanka Cricket now drawing a line in the sand?

There appears to be good reason. What once passed for a convivial evening has, according to accounts reaching the authorities, become a cause for concern.

There have been reports that seven bottles of single malt were consumed in a single day during the recent Galle Test against India. Concerns have also been raised about smoking among members of the fast bowling group. These are allegations that require proper scrutiny, but they help explain why the administration is tightening the screws.

Add concerns about diet and fitness and SLC has decided that a quiet word will no longer suffice. Players face closer monitoring of what they eat, how they train and how they conduct themselves. Once random alcohol testing begins, those who ignore the requirements could face the music.

The distinction is straightforward. Enjoying a drink and allowing drinking to compromise preparation are two different matters. When the country is paying you to perform, turning up in the best possible condition is part of the job.

Sports science has changed the equation. Preparation now extends well beyond a few laps of the ground and a net session. Diet, recovery, sleep and conditioning all demand attention. The margins are fine and opponents will happily exploit every inch conceded.

Virat Kohli has become an obvious reference point for the discipline required to sustain a long career at the highest level. Talent opens the door; good habits help keep it open.

Sri Lanka’s new measures should be viewed in that light. They are intended to help players remain fit, available and capable of performing consistently, while restoring discipline to a system that has too often allowed standards to drift.

The recurring absence of leading players through injury has already cost the team dearly, including at World Cups. Injuries have several causes, but conditioning and preparation are areas in which players and those responsible for them must be held accountable.

For too long, professional standards appear to have been treated as negotiable. The present administration is at least attempting to put that right.

There is no need to disown the characters of the 1980s and 1990s. They gave cricket wonderful memories, on the field and off it. Their stories will continue to raise a smile whenever cricketers gather.

But the game has moved on. A crowded calendar, three international formats and increasingly demanding fitness standards leave little room for burning the candle at both ends.

In Sidath Wettimuny, Gary Kirsten and Roshan Mahanama, Sri Lanka’s players have three men who will listen to their grievances and understand the pressures of international cricket. They will also expect them to behave like professionals.