For anyone with a passing interest in Sri Lankan cricket, the past few days have been nothing short of a whirlwind. If “emotional rollercoaster” were a descriptor, it would barely scratch the surface.
Imagine being ejected from an aircraft, your parachute failing, but miraculously deploying the backup just in time. As you land unscathed, a pride of lions awaits. That’s been the emotional journey of Sri Lankan cricket fans: fear, excitement, relief, ecstasy, and then crushing defeat. Yet, despite the tumultuous ride, we remain glued to the game.
This isn’t another critique to add to the chorus of discontent. Firdose Moonda’s recent article shed light on the abuse players face, even after minor defeats, let alone the recent drubbings suffered by the men’s team. It’s clear the players are aware their performance hasn’t met expectations, and piling on criticism might only lead to diminishing returns. Meanwhile, the success of the women’s team—one of the most significant achievements in Sri Lankan cricket history—is often used as a benchmark against the men, sometimes to their detriment.
However, comparing the two teams provides intriguing insights. The women’s team, once in dire straits with Chamari Athapaththu as the lone star, has transformed remarkably over the past year. They’ve shed their inhibitions, built camaraderie, and emerged as one of the world’s most formidable teams. Their success may owe something to the very conditions that once held them back: a lack of depth and a cricket board fixated on the men’s team allowed them to grow and evolve, sometimes by default.
Contrast this with the men’s team, who, despite having superior resources, are under relentless pressure. Social media, with its memes and mockery, amplifies the criticism, while comparisons to past glories only add to the strain.
The argument that financial rewards or desire are to blame for the men’s team’s struggles doesn’t hold much weight. India’s current success, achieved under similar scrutiny, suggests that managing expectations and media pressure is more nuanced.
Could lessons from the women’s team’s approach be applied to the men? The women’s success was partly due to being shielded from media scrutiny, which allowed them to develop without the constant pressure to perform. This raises an interesting question: if the men’s team had the freedom to fail and learn without the harsh glare of public criticism, might they too find their form?
Rumesh Ratnayake, the head coach of the women’s team, emphasizes the role of reframing and positive language in overcoming negativity. The recent defeats in the men’s T20Is illustrate how strategic intent can be overshadowed by failure, leading to a narrative of inevitable collapse.
While India manages media pressure through experience, Sri Lanka’s challenge lies in finding a balance between performance expectations and mental resilience. Perhaps, rather than focusing on the criticism, it’s time to explore how the men’s team can benefit from the women’s experience of growing through adversity without the added pressure of public discourse.
In conclusion, the contrasting fortunes of Sri Lanka’s cricket teams offer a unique perspective. By understanding the environment that nurtured the women’s success, there may be valuable lessons for the men’s team. Balancing expectations and managing media pressure could be key to unlocking their potential and achieving lasting success.