Death of a Sportsman

Within his team, he was known as Sankat-mochan - Deliverance from Misfortune.

Raja Ali is not a name that’d instantly ring a bell, or pop up in search engines. Not until a couple of days ago, at least. He was what you would call a ‘so-near-yet-so-far’ cricketer. He played for the Railways cricket team for over a decade, and yet never got his foot through the door to the international stage. Like hundreds of others.

For those of you who didn’t know, here goes: Raja Ali was born in Bhopal, MP in 1976. He made his first-Class debut at the age of 20, and kept playing for his home state before switching over to Railways in the 2000-01 season. With him in the squad, the Railways clinched the Ranji Trophy twice (2001-02 and 04-05) and the Irani cup once (2005-06). Experts rate both his match-winning knocks of 66 and 80 in the two Ranji finals among the best batting performances in the history of the tournament.

He was a left-handed batsman, known for planting his bat before the stumps and frustrating bowlers for long hours. He was the backbone of the Railways’ middle-order, blocking the most express deliveries with ease and grace and rotating strike like clockwork. Building partnerships. Making every ball count. Never losing the plot. If you’ve seen Rahul Dravid bat, you know what I mean.

He retired in 2008, with respectable figures against his name. In 87 first-Class matches, he’d amassed over 4000 runs with an average of 38. This included 9 tons and 22 half-centuries.

Clearly, a cricketer who deserves respect and appreciation for his decade-long career. A true exponent of the game, if there ever was one.

He died writhing in pain on a pavement of a busy road in his hometown.

Late night on October 21, he suffered a “massive” cardiac arrest when he was riding home through one of the most prominent roads in Bhopal. The initial spasms of pain were enough to get him off the motorbike, and he collapsed on the pavement. People gathered even as he grabbed his chest and twisted around in extreme agony. Reportedly, not a single one of them lent him assistance. Minutes later, he lost consciousness. The first person who bent down was a police constable who pushed through the gathering a while after the labored breathing had ceased.

It was only then that he was taken to a hospital, where all they could do was pronounce him dead.

A man dying on the road in our country is usually a crowd-puller. Gets a lot of people curious – there is tension in the air, yes – but ultimately the reaction is comparable to the one a street-performer would receive.

Former all-rounder J.P. Yadav was with him until half-hour before tragedy struck. He says Ali had been “more than a brother” to him.

“VIP Road is a busy area and lots of people come for their evening walks after 10:30 pm. They saw a man lying there in pain but didn’t come up for help. Maybe, if he could have been rushed to the hospital at the right time, he could have been saved”.

Sanjay Bangar, the Railways skipper, said he was pained when he’d been informed of the news, but also disgusted at the sheer indifference that had, literally, been the final nail in Ali’s coffin. I guess his emotions echo our own.

Ask yourself, though – what would I’ve done – you, me, and us. We who stand around with folded arms while our own kind stumble and suffer and die in a hundred different ways.

Ali needed assistance, basic CPR and a hospital – in that order. We are either afraid or don’t care enough to assist, are ignorant of CPR, and hospitals are synonymous with subsequent legal hassles.

Cases of sportsmen having heart failures are not unheard of. This year’s FA Cup saw Bolton Wanderers’ star midfielder Fabrice Muamba collapse to the ground close to half-time with a similar attack. That story, however, had a happy ending as paramedics instantly swung into action (incidentally, he is getting married today.) A month later, Livorno midfielder Piermario Morosini suffered a similar fate smack in the middle of an Italian football league match. He died on his way to the hospital.

Raja Ali met his end on a roadside. This didn’t cause much chatter, make news-bulletins or lead to candlelight marches. I wonder why. Maybe because he didn’t die on the cricket field. Maybe because he had already stepped on to life beyond cricket when he died. Or maybe because, he never made it to “the XI”.

We ignored him in life. We ignored him while he was dying. Let’s not ignore him in death.