From Day One, 11 years ago, I have been paying attention to the unfurling of the Caribbean Premier League (CPL) and its relevance to the regional integration project and the instincts that drive Caribbean people to a unique sense of self.
This is particularly interesting now that in T&T we are
undergoing yet another wave of insanity associated with what people are
describing as the outward manifestation of “patriotism” – sentiments often cosmetic,
fascistic in nature, and driven by jingoistic, exclusionary emotions.
A flag at every home. Coat of arms. National watchwords. Everywhere,
including at state functions, the accompanying embrace of theocratic creed
(invariably “Christian” in nature). All the cosmetic jazz required to lay claim
to some form of supposed independent citizenship and belonging.
The CPL raises such issues in different ways. There is,
however, a mismatch between the design of the Caribbean Community (Caricom)
agenda, the makeup of the hugely successful CPL, and support for the West
Indies cricket team.
This space has also time and again made the distinction between
“West Indies cricket” and “cricket in the West Indies” – a formulation that has
seemingly eluded the thoughts of people who believe cricket belongs, as a
standing agenda item, on the schedule for Caricom investment and discussion.
Explain this, I have often wondered aloud, to the agitating
masses of Haiti, identity-conflicted Bahamas, football loving Suriname, and the
people of Belize who rely on the Central American Integration System (SICA) for
support of the kind not always accessed via Caricom.
In Curaçao, which joined as an Associate Member in July, there
is most likely not a single proper cricket pitch. Tell me who there knows where
to find “extra cover?”
The CPL meanwhile took us into the kind of terrain in 2013
we had not quite known before. Not even the transformative Stanford era brought
us this.
As far as I know, the CPL is the only brand of regularly
scheduled franchise cricket, featuring internationally mixed teams, whose bases
of operation are countries and not counties or cities or regions within states.
The ensuing confusion here means that we have not always
separated the franchises from the countries in which they are based. So, at
cricket grounds all over the region, national flags are often seen at the stadia
alongside branded team standards and buntings.
In one memorable instance, the T&T national flag was
stomped upon by fans of another country who felt strongly about a loss. There were
early unsuccessful calls not to associate national symbols (the coat of
arms???) with the various teams to minimise the potential for such confusion.
Yet, people have been arguing, basically, that the teams are commercial products being offered by the respective countries. Maybe because we are so
used to repackaging, re-assembling and labeling non-indigenous products as our
own, such logic sticks.
Defiantly, I have at various times expressed support for the
“T&T Amazon Warriors” (when T&T cricketers were more regularly on the
team), the Jamaica Tallawahs (which no longer exists though Jamaica does), and
the “Zouks” of Saint Lucia which is now the Saint Lucia Kings, captained by
South African batsman, Faf du Plessis.
I asked my Lucian pal Peter where Faf goes for his Saturday
pigtail bouillon, and he couldn’t answer me. Denis is also yet to say whether
Shai Hope prefers Guyanese pepperpot in Kitty or what you can get in
Cummingsburg.
Don’t talk about Joshua Little of TKR. Does he have an
opinion on Sauce Doubles in Curepe as opposed to Debe saheena? In any event,
where is “Trinbago”? No such country exists within the UN system.
Yet, the flags flew when Tim Seifert (New Zealand) was
caught by Kyle Mayers (Barbados) off the bowling of Odean Smith (Jamaica) for
the St Kitts and Nevis “Patriots” on Sunday. St Kitts and Nevis Prime Minister Terrance
Drew and the Minister of Sports Samal Duggins even flew to Antigua to back the
team last week.
As silly as all of this seems, I still think that the CPL has
done more for popular support for the game of cricket in recent years than Cricket
West Indies has achieved in decades. In the process, there have been creative
tensions between what we deemed to be “national” in the past and what presents
itself as home-spun now.
In a strange way, we ought to have already been acquainted with
all this. The “West Indies” flag and accompanying “anthem” are contrived
inventions intended to generate amorphous “nationalistic” support. Beyond a
Boundary was written in 1963. Today, there is no cricket bat in the Caricom
flag.
