The conflict goes far beyond the Cup. In the understated words of Pakistan’s manager, Zafar Altaf: “Unfortunately, there is an unfinished agenda at home.” Indians and Pakistanis had barely begun watching their teams’ first Cup matches last month when the two countries unceremoniously squared off at the brink of full-scale war in Kashmir. The military action was hardly unexpected; the start of combat on the high Himalayan frontier is almost a rite of spring. But the fighting has acquired a treacherous new edge now that both sides have emerged as declared nuclear powers.
Even so, most civilians seem to regard Kashmir as an unwelcome distraction from their cricket. On Indian TV, coverage of the fighting may account for three hours or so of daily air time. The Cup consumes about five times that much. Every ball bowled is beamed direct to the Subcontinent, from the games’ start in midafternoon local time to the end of play near mid- night. “Two channels, 42 matches, 300 hours” is the proud slogan of the two Indian stations that are featuring almost continuous live coverage of the matches–along with postgame replays, highlights and commentary. India’s advertisers are planning to spend more than $70 million on special promotions before the end of Cup season. Meanwhile, the Indian military is waging a bitter campaign at 16,000 feet in the Himalayas, trying with only partial success to blast Pakistani-backed guerrillas out of bases on India’s side of the Line of Control, as the military front is known.
Half a world away, Old Trafford is expected to be dangerously combustible. India’s fans are said to be warming up with cheers like: “Stand up if you hate Pakistan!” Both teams are more than prepared to defend their national honor. India’s batting lineup is led by the best (and highest-paid) batsman in the world, Sachin Tendulkar–nicknamed “the master blaster.” They will be facing Pakistan’s unrivaled bowling side, spearheaded by the world’s fastest bowler, Shoaib Akhtar, who delivers the ball at roughly 100 miles an hour. Of his hapless victims he says: “I love to see the fear on their faces.”
As the contest for the Cup heated up late last week, fans were relieved that the battle for the ridges was simultaneously cooling down. On Friday Pakistan released an Indian pilot whose MiG-27 had been shot down over Pakistani-held territory. His return preceded a scheduled trip to Delhi by Pakistan’s foreign minister, Sartaj Aziz, explicitly “to de-escalate the problem.” The crisis appeared to have settled down to the nasty but routine border skirmishes that afflict Kashmir every year at this season.
Nuclear weapons may have helped defuse the confrontation. Neither side wants the mutual destruction that all-out war in Kashmir could ignite. “And don’t forget the cricket,” says Gerald Segal, an Asia analyst at London’s Institute for Strategic Studies. “It’s a factor in the return to normalcy.” After all, if the Cup can make civilian life stand still, why shouldn’t it stop a war? The players, of course, know each other well from past games. Kashmir didn’t keep them from cheerfully clustering around Queen Elizabeth at a recent Buckingham Palace reception. And people say it’s only a game.
