Ganguly lifted by the Wright stuff

Captaining India is no bed of roses. After Australia had thrashed them in Centurion light years ago - well, on 15 February actually - a straw effigy of Sourav Ganguly was constructed in Calcutta and, after a mock funeral, was burnt. Extra guards were stationed around his house. No wonder the Indians had few qualms about travelling to Zimbabwe; for them, that was clearly the safer option.

And it is no wonder that Ganguly has maintained the support of his senior players throughout a topsy-turvy career in charge of the national team. If he was sacked, someone else would have to do it and in India the pitfalls of leadership can often outweigh the pluses. By comparison, Nasser Hussain has it easy. He may have to endure criticism in the papers and from former players on TV, but at least his property is secure.

After India's stuttering start to the competition, former captain Bishen Bedi was typically provocative. 'We don't even have a five-per-cent chance of winning the World Cup,' he said. Three weeks on the odds have changed a little. Australia remain the team to beat, but India are recognised as the only side who can do it. For weeks the pundits have praised Ricky Ponting's growing maturity, Stephen Fleming's ingenuity, but Ganguly can lay claim to being the captain of the tournament.

There will be many who will be reluctant to bestow such an accolade upon him. The perception, heightened by the thoughtless sobriquet 'Lord Snooty', is of an arrogant, aristocratic Bengali, reluctant to get his hands dirty or to do the 'hard yards' required by all modern professional sportsmen. For example, fielding has always looked a chore for Ganguly, something that the other 10 have to do, and in his youth he was obviously ill-equipped to carry out the subservient duties of the twelfth man.

Ganguly has always attracted more bile than brickbats. When India defeated England last winter, Hussain's leadership was lauded, Ganguly's was always under fierce scrutiny. Steve Waugh, on Australia's tour to India two years ago, a series won by Ganguly, could not stand him. It infuriated the Australia captain to a remarkable degree that Ganguly would turn up five minutes late for the toss. As a result, the Aussie bowlers seemed keener to hit him rather than dismiss him.

So it's hardly surprising that Ganguly should withdraw into a haughty silence, to inoculate himself from the endless public debate in the world's most cricket-mad country. 'I know I am a performer,' he says, 'and I have a record as good as anyone's. I just stick to my game. The rest of the things do not bother me.'

Yet in his actions if not his words there are signs of the humility that every great performer requires. Examine his relationship with India's craggy Kiwi coach, John Wright. Wright, when plotting India's World Cup campaign, has been keen to stress elements that appear to be anathema to Ganguly: the emphasis on fitness and athleticism, training runs and intense fielding practices.

Wright enlisted a Kiwi physio (Andrew Leipus) and a South African fitness trainer (Adrian Le Roux), moves hardly likely to cheer Ganguly and his team. Ganguly might have scuppered Wright's plans. Instead he has embraced them and once he has embraced them the rest of the team inevitably follows. There is a parallel here with the Packer West Indians of the 1970s. Clive Lloyd was handed the Aussie physio, Dennis Waight, back in the Packer days, whether he wanted him or not; he soon liked what he saw and Waight ended up staying with the West Indies team for 20 years.

Now all the Indians recognise the value of their fitness regime. Occasionally one falls out of line. Harbhajan Singh has his sceptical moments and if he expresses them, the India management sanctions half an hour of 'special training' with Le Roux, after which Harbhajan has no breath to air any complaints.

Ganguly is a powerful convert. 'Wright has made such an impact that we can't go away without doing what he wants,' he says. 'I don't know whether these three will be with us in the future, but for Indian cricket's sake, they should.'

Ganguly has also been prepared to sacrifice his own role in the side - rather more readily than, say, Hussain. Ganguly has opened in about 200 of his 227 one-day internationals. He's very good at it, averaging 42. 'That's the place I like to bat,' he says. But he hit a trough in New Zealand and at the start of this tournament. Instead of sending angry hand signals to the press box - à la Hussain - he has surreptitiously yielded so that India can open with Sachin Tendulkar and Virender Sehwag.

His early form in this tournament was poor, so poor that in Pietermaritzburg before the Namibia game he took himself off to a car park and had someone throw wet tennis balls at him in an attempt to cope with the extra bounce of South African pitches. Something clicked. He scored a hundred the next day.

His other century in the competition was also against a so-called minnow, but the situation was dire. Against Kenya, India were in trouble at 23 for three. Ganguly's response was hardly haughty. He grafted like an artisan and was still there when the game was won. If he wins the toss and bats first in Durban on Thursday when India take on Kenya in the second semi-final, there should not be so many alarms.

There follows the likely final with Australia and here the parallels with 1983 start to surface. That was India's only successful campaign in all the World Cups. Unnoticed in the preliminary games, they appeared in the final and it was assumed that India would be overwhelmed by the invincible West Indies, especially when the target they set was a meagre 184.

This time Australia are the invincibles. And even though I've suggested a certain latent humility in Ganguly's make-up, rest assured that he is one of the few international captains who really believes that he can beat them. Australia against India - it is the final that this accident-prone tournament desperately craves. If Ganguly lifts the trophy, even Steve Waugh might be impressed.