Azeem Rafiq and racism in English cricket

Azeem Rafiq (extreme right) playing for the Yorkshire County Cricket Club in 2017. (Image: Dave Morton via Wikimedia Commons)

Mike Marqusee writes in his celebrated book Anyone But England that the superb performance by the visiting West Indies cricket team in the summer of 1976 caused much anguish to English commentators. The refined English commentary could hardly hide the shock decimation England faced. In the 1970s and '80s, a generation with fairly good memory of the crumbling of the British Empire was now witnessing the extraordinary rise of new cricketing powers from the former colonies.

The first three cricket world cups were held in England and none were won by it. West Indies took the first two and the third one in 1983 was bagged by India. It took an extraordinary 36 years for England to win their first cricket World Cup in 2019 after almost all the major cricket playing countries had lifted the trophy. But before the onset of the one-day format in the 1960s and indeed the cricket world cup bringing some much needed excitement, football had already captured the English imagination.

When Azeem Rafiq’s case burst out in full force on Tuesday (November 16, 2021), it signified that a key section – South Asians – disproportionately engaged in serving the game in England has still some distance to go before it sits comfortably in the English cricket hierarchy. For decades now, South Asians have enriched cricket in England, providing a steady flow of players, coaches, support staff, and youngsters who prefer to wield the bat instead of donning football boots.

Rafiq, the former England under-19 captain, was told by Michael Vaughan, referring to the Asian players, that there were “too many of you lot, we need to do something about it”. Vaughan has denied Rafiq’s allegations, but it does point out how the presence of Asians, in what has always been a preferred game of the elite, has been problematic. It stems from the fact that South Asians have occupied a key, but also an interesting spot, in the English cricketing fraternity.

It won’t be out of place to say that they provide an important connect between the supremely interested formal jacket-tie wearing crowd savouring Test matches at Lord’s and what Marqusee describes as “large sections of the population (who) are consigned to inferior rank” in a social order spun by the mythology of cricket. The descendants of those who came from the sub-continent to work in the mills and factories located in the former centres of the industrial revolution acquired enough sophistry to negotiate the nuances of the gentleman’s game.

Cricket rules and gears became too irksome and burdensome for the English masses, but allowed the Indians and the Pakistanis to recreate a much grander version of gully cricket than their cousins indulged back in Karachi and Mumbai. Besides, in the pre-IPL era, England’s county cricket remained a magnet for non-English cricketers who signed up for tidy sums and getting vital on and off-field experience of the English summer.

From Sunil Gavaskar and Zaheer Abbas to Saqlain Mushtaq and Sourav Ganguly, to name just a few, the presence of international cricketing greats in the county championships added a distinct vibrancy to the English domestic season. Just like other avenues, cricket as a source for visit and migration to England has seen its scope reduced. However, in its heyday first-class cricket in England was a minimalist version of the Indian Premier League (IPL) minus the money and viewership.

It was one such overseas cricketing star who brought to the fore the issue of racism in England. Learie Constantine, whom I recently found myself discussing with the cricketing legend Michael Holding at the St James’s Taj Hotel, was a popular cricketer from Trinidad who played in the northern leagues in the inter-war period. In 1943, a hotel in Central London citing objections by white US servicemen told him that, despite his booking, he and his family could stay only one night because he was black. Constantine took the hotel to court and won in a celebrated case.

But Azeem Rafiq’s testimony shows racism specifically embedded in the game. His testimony points out the toxicity that can pass on as locker room talk and everyday banter among blokes. He raised the issue of his degrading treatment since the last few years, and it is a disgrace that it took so long for it to get the centre stage that it has now got. Phrases and slurs like: elephant washers, you lot sit there near the toilets, P***, were deployed with unfailing regularity by those who went on to occupy powerful and important positions in cricket administration. ‘Kevin’ and ‘Steve’ were shorthand for all and any coloured players whose names were difficult to pronounce. This also included Indian star Cheteshwar Pujara.

Azeem Rafiq (Image via Wikimedia Commons)

For the optimists, all is not lost. Despite the infamous Tebbit test, coined by Tory politician Norman Tebbit, a six by Shahid Afridi and a straight drive by Sachin Tendulkar have drawn more excitement in the stands from British-passport holding Asians rooting for the land of their ancestors, often drowning the comparatively feeble applause on the exploits of English cricketers. In current times, Babar Azam and Virat Kohli continue to hold sway.

Tony Blair is known to have been mesmerised by Azharuddin’s wristy strokeplay, and the current chief of Metropolitan police Cressida Dick continues to be a fan of the Pakistan cricket team after meeting her idol Imran Khan as an 11-year-old. These instances do not provide any comfort against what Rafiq and many others have faced, but it does point out that idolising Inzamam-ul-Haq, Rahul Dravid or Brian Lara while aiming to share the dressing room with Joe Root and Eoin Morgan does not necessarily denote conflict of interest.

The issue of racism in English cricket is tinged with an added potency that Asians have been doing the heavy lifting in cricket, eschewing the glamour and money of football and being at ease with its myriad and confusing rules. Breaking through the elitism of English cricket through familiarity with the game that comes naturally with a South Asian heritage has been understood, but not necessarily accepted.

Rafiq told the committee that he does not want his son to go anywhere near cricket, and that British Asian representation in cricket has dropped by 40 percent since 2010. If the trend, continues it will have wide-ranging repercussions, the most discerning one being English cricket losing out on a key constituent that could be a force multiplier for the popularity of the game in England. Unlike football, racism in cricket is much less discussed. It is high time that it gets the attention it deserves and Rafiq’s rousing testimony could be the starting point.