When Every Stand Has a Name, No Name Stands Out
By Sharan Kumar
Somewhere between gratitude and overenthusiasm lies a
sensible naming policy. When too many names are stamped across every gate,
stand, corner and corridor, memory does not deepen, it diffuses. Honour works
like perfume, not paint. A few notes linger for decades, a whole bucket only
overwhelms the room. By naming almost everything after someone, the Karnataka
Cricket Association risks ensuring that, over time, fewer names are actually
remembered. In their enthusiasm, the present office bearers may actually be
diluting the very recall they hope to preserve. Sporting memory is notoriously
short. Today’s crowd cheers the current star, tomorrow’s headlines belong to
the next one, and even recently retired cricketers are quickly pushed into the
background by fresh heroes and new scorecards.
The attempt to please has now reached peak ceremonial
choreography. Players who already have stands named after them are being
further garlanded with bowling ends. The tribute package now comes with add-ons
and bonus features. If this momentum continues, the square leg umpire may soon
be rechristened for balance. Karnataka has produced several top-class umpires
too, so one waits to see whether the two officiating positions on the field
will also enter the naming rights program. At that point, the scorecard may
need a legend just to explain the landmarks.
Some of these celebrated names were shaped by
outstanding coaches who worked away from camera glare and commentary praise.
Their fingerprints are on many famous careers. Forgetting them while
multiplying plaques for players feels like crediting the century and ignoring
the nets.
At this rate, even the legends among cricket writers
may feel justified in demanding their own pound of flesh. After all, if square
boundaries, bowling ends, and entry points are fair game, why should the press
box feel left out. A named seat, a commemorative desk, perhaps a corner of the
commentary area would only be keeping pace with the times. Once the naming
spiral begins, restraint becomes optional and satire starts writing itself.
A visit to the stadium is no longer a matter of
finding Gate 3 and Stand B. It now feels like an oral exam in Karnataka cricket
history. Enter through the named gate, turn left at another named stand, and
you are expected to decode a full playing eleven just to reach your seat
somewhere between Midwicket Memory Lane and Pavilion Nostalgia Block. Miss one
turn and you land inside a tribute you never bought a ticket for.
Let us be clear. Honouring distinguished cricketers is
right and necessary. A stadium should breathe history, not anonymity. A few
legendary names carved into its structure give it character and continuity. But
when every available surface becomes a naming opportunity, tribute starts
resembling overbooking.
There are pros, certainly. Players feel valued.
Administrators look generous. Commentators get lyrical cardio calling out the
ends every over. Fans get reminders of greatness, whether they asked for them
or not.
Then come the cons, marching in with scorecards.
Wayfinding becomes a puzzle. The honour scale gets distorted. Recency bias does
cartwheels while pre-television era stalwarts wait outside the naming committee
room without a visitor pass. Karnataka produced fine cricketers long before
broadcast graphics and social media trends, and many of them risk being
politely erased by the new plaque economy.
There is also a structural problem. Naming rights are
a finite resource. When everything is named today, tomorrow has nothing left
but subdivisions. Upper Stand A, Lower Stand A, Extended Stand A, A Premium, A
Legacy, and A Reloaded.
Commemoration needs editing. A stadium is not a
gratitude buffet where every dish must be served at once.
If the goal is lasting remembrance, build a proper
cricket gallery, record oral histories, produce documentaries, publish
archives, and create a serious digital hall of fame. Depth preserves legacy
better than nameplates. In fact, a dedicated cricket museum on the lines of the
Prime Ministers’ Museum in Delhi would be a far better template. One well
designed space that tells every era’s story will outlive a hundred scattered
signboards. Let history be curated, not merely bolted onto walls.
Honour works best when it is measured. When every
brick salutes someone, the salute loses its posture.
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