Was it the summer of '96 ???

Was it the summer of '96 ???

A few weekends back, I was watching the IPL auction. To be very honest, I was watching it with a hint of interest maybe, more than the fact that I actually had nothing else to do and nothing else to watch in the TV. I have seen people go bonkers for some big hitting Indians, people spend obscene amount of money in a blink, I have seen some great players from early this decade get ignored like anything, I have seen well-respected businessmen behave ridiculously and to some extent behave like those slave-trading bourgeois auctioneers, who can't stand the fact that there can be obnoxious crazies on the other table too; and then ... I got bored.

I do not know why I don't like the IPL. Maybe it is the sheer obscene display of money, maybe it is the cheerleaders. Maybe I like to believe that even in 2011, cricket does not come under the purview of entertainment, instead it still should be treated like a gentleman's game. Just like how I feel sad seeing empty parks and blame it on Twitter and Facebook. Maybe I am just not ready to accept the change.

And so, after getting shoddily bored from Set Max's live telecast of the players auction, I switched off the idiot-box and went to my living room, pulled out an old leather-covered box from the corner. Then I went all dusty, and sat amidst all - befitting a war veteran who is rejoicing his victory among the all-quiet rumbles of the bloody battlefield. Even there, after all those papers and every other thing laying everywhere, I saw myself from the typical artist's view as a winner and, might I add, a bit adorable after long. At the end of my endeavours, a rather disheveled scrap book found its way into my callused palms. Lot many stickers of some of the greatest cricketers were all carefully placed in there. The cover page was having a picture of a 23 years old giant of the game - a curly haired Tendulkar, smiling as he completed a brilliant century. The name of the scrapbook is written in curved unsteady handwriting saying - ‘The best of Cricket - year 1996'.

Nineteen-ninety six was indeed a memorable year. It was the year I got the permission to wear full pants in my school, and the year I first got a letter from a girl, only to read it a year later, when she went off to Mumbai. It was the year when I got my first Yamaha synthesizer. It was the year I started wondering why girls are always more attractive than boys. It was also the year my voice broke and I croaked like a frog when I had my first bike ride all by myself. It was the year when Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid first played for India and Lords was the Bethlehem of Cricket.

The 90s was the decade when cable television tiptoed stealthily into Indian households. The sudden plethora of channels amazed us, and we were shocked to know that news channels were allowed to hire pretty women, a fact that Doordarshan, our national channel, always hid from us. When electricity failed on us, which it did with clockwork regularity, we would run to the neighbourhood volleyball ground, which was modified for our need of Cricket accordingly. You see we did not have any YouTube, Google or Cricinfo then. Once there, we would stand hunched along with 10-15 others, with perky ears, submerging as one big family into agony or ecstasy with the lows and the highs of the team's fortunes. We were all national selectors shouting at the top of our voice, and secretly boasting of ourselves as the next Tendulkar in the making.

At that time, none of the Indian players had any fancy hair styles. Neither they spent more time in Gyms or Nightclubs. All of Azhar's ‘boys' as he repeatedly called them at every match conference with a typical hyderabadi accent, were absolute mama's boys - be it Sachin, Rahul, Laxman, Kumble or Srinath. Cricket was the gentleman's game, and our cricketers were gentle to the T. It almost seemed like flamboyance was not allowed to be part of that Indian team character. We loved Warne & Lara, but we never wanted any of our players to behave like them. There was no dude at all in the team, no Kohli, no Yuvraj, no Dhoni, no Raina. No one sledged, no one stared, it appeared as if they were standing in a temple, instead of a ground. Even Sourav was a quiet sober little fellow till he became captain in 2000 and decided to bring in some change.

Supporting that bunch like a mad follower was an entirely different experience altogether. Unlike 2010, when we have been tagged No.1 in Test cricket, we were archaic in those days, even medieval, in our play. Our batting rose and fell with Sachin, our so called "fast bowlers" ticked idli and sambar as their favourite daily diet, Kumble was our one and only answer to the visiting teams and our best fielder was a 35-year old man called Robin Singh. It was inexplicable - the team totally refused to dive on the ground, and Kumble and Srinath became models for a Moov ad every time they had to bend their knees to stop a ball. I would scream at them and call them ‘women' and my cousin sister would glare at me malevolently. The common notion of a cricket match said, switch off the TV set as soon as Sachin is out. And this notion held true for 99 out of 100 times.

It was an era of Sachin alone, and sometimes Azhar, Jadeja, Robin Singh and others. Kumble and a minefield of a spinning track was the way to go in the bowling department. When we didn't win, we still could hold our head high, knowing Sachin is the greatest batsman in the world. We felt the pride in his achievements. In that entire decade, we never won a Test outside the subcontinent. But isn't that why we became obsessed with the team. There is a feeling that comes with being part of an underdog, that impassioned aggressive desire to punch and knock out a better opponent, that one can never understand being part of a champion side. It is heady, it is intoxicating. Ask Hayden or Gilchrist if they feel as bad about a loss as a young Bangladesh side would feel about a win. Watch how players react when they beat Roger Federer and you will have an idea. It is only because David beat Goliath, did the story become romantic. And it was the same with India. With our team, we felt crushed a million times, and ecstatic a few other times, but with that grew our loyalty and misplaced patriotism. It was also why we made Sachin into a demi-god.

But now, everything has changed. Ask a 10-15 years old kid. He will say I want to be like Dhoni or Raina. Obviously the kid will be having some spikes in his hair, and in some cases some obnoxious colours too. These guys won't think twice before deciding that MS Dhoni gives the team a better value addition than even Sehwag maybe. Lalit Modi, Twenty20, IPL, businessmen, cheerleaders, Mandira Bedis have now become an integral part of modern day cricket lexicon. The Indian team is currently at its best. Atleast no other team is better than it at the moment. Today, Bangladesh is threatening New Zealand every now, Zimbabwe cricket team has enlisted as an endangered species and then US & Afghanistan are knocking in the ICC's door. There are some role reversals that are catching eyes too. England for a change are not in the receiving end and are thrashing and bashing Australia in the Ashes, in ways they were themselves scrapped and slapped around by generations of aussies for over a century. There is no Wasim and no Waqar, there is no Donald or Pollock, Shoaib and Lee are still there, but they are way more docile than their heydays; thank heavens for Dale Steyn atleast. Everything has changed, except maybe Sachin Tendulkar. As always, he remains our hero across all ages, across all time, across all hairstyles. Our one constant. And probably our only constant. The super-hero whom even grown-ups follow ardently.



Note - That scrap book, it had its first page dedicated to a set of rules, usually described as an unofficial code of conduct. When I became the captain, my first rule did not allow any members of the Class 6 C section boys, use any of those inexplicable vocabularies while playing. I guess, once upon a time, I was a relatively better man-manager. Today although I personally don't use those vocabs, but I don't mind either. Perhaps in those days I was a much better person than I am now. As I flipped through the pages, an assorted mix of match scores and statistics appeared scribbled in pencil, that most innocent of communication facilitators. Sachin, Lara, Donald, Wasim, Warne, Murali are all showing me rays of hopes from every pages out there. I turn my face away from the scrapbook and try to look towards the window. My laptop lay across the room, proud and superior.

20 glorious Years of the Master

Hi All,

15th November 2009, the date is significant in a way that very few are in any Cricket enthusiast's mind. On this day our beloved Sachin, - Sachin Tendulkar a.k.a. 'Master Blaster' a.k.a. 'Little Master' has completed 20 years in International Cricket. He may be aged 36 now, but all the Cricket lovers around the world, still see that fierce yet modest 16 year old Cricketer in him.

The Little Big Man ... The reason of joy to a country of Billions ... 1989, aged 16, commanding authority, oozing confidence, glimpse of what lies beneath .....


20 Years back ...

It was in game reduced to a charity match that which we first saw the reason for the hype. A sixteen year old had gone to Pakistan, amidst some media frenzy (for the time that is) with none other than the great Sunil Gavaskar gifting him his pads with a statement of the sort “This kid plays as good as me. And can play way more strokes than I ever could.” While people remember the savage flood of sixes against Qadir and Mushtaq, what I remember is how, of all the players in the Indian team, only he showed a willingness to fight and give it his all, respecting the time of people like me who were watching the game when they were supposed to be studying Life Science, something that the rest of the team could not be bothered as they went through the motions, talking and laughing, since it was not an official match (as if anything involving India and Pakistan can be unofficial). It would prove to be one of the defining characteristics of the man for twenty years— his commitment, his seriousness and his utter professionalism.

Trying to understand the legend that is Sachin, one needs to look at him through two prisms—that of the game and that of everything but that.

The Little Master. Sachin's earliest photograph holding a cricket bat.

Whether Sachin is the greatest batsman after Bradman has been debated threadbare on many forums with reams of statistics drawn from Statsguru and it is not my intent to go over that. Arguing about the greatness of a batsman with numbers and averages is to me mostly an exercise in futility, somewhat like evaluating movies based on box office collections or the taste of food by its glycemic index.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar - Mixed Moods

Although Wisden declared Sachin the greatest Batsman of all time by announcing him at No. 2 for all time in Test after Bradman, and at No. 2 for all time in ODIs after Viv Richards, and also, Sachin currently holds most of the Records in Batting (most number of Runs & Centuries in both the form of Cricket & various others); it all still sounds a bit academic.


I therefore go by two things.

First is the evaluation of experts, people who have played the game and not done too poorly themselves, people like Don Bradman, Hanif Mohammed and Shane Warne and his contemporaries around the world, for whom the general consensus is that overall Sachin has been the greatest batsman of modern times.

Sachin with the greatest Batsman ever - 'Donald George Bradman'

Sachin with his contemporary batting legend 'Brian Charles Lara'

Sachin with 'Shane Keith Warne', arguably the finest leg-spinner of all time


And second is the evidence of my eyes. My favorite thing about Sachin, what I feel sets him apart from other greats like Ponting, is his balance. It is what I believe is the secret of his shot-making, what makes him move the ball two feet away from the fielder at square leg or lean back and work the ball over the slips or rock back and thump it through cover point, all with equal dexterity. It is that sense of balance he loses when he goes out of form—-which is when you will find him falling over to the front (like how he got out in the 2007 World Cup match against Sri Lanka—possibly the lowest point of his career) or reaching out for the ball, a game defect caused by a slight disturbance in weight transference, triggered with increasing frequency by his dodgy back and shoulders.
Majestic Square Cut

The way he plays those audacious Straight Drives, or piercing Square Cuts or the taunting Upper Cuts, the cheeky paddle sweeps or even the dismissive Pulls, all clearly states the fact that there is no shot inside the book of Cricket or outside of it, that this little man can't or doesn't play.
Glorious Straight Drive
Teasing the Slips
Short Ball dismissed


Sachin is supremely talented and amazingly proves that day after day relentlessly. His sporting attitude, agressive game coupled with humble nature makes him the most loved and worshipped in a country of a billion and also several places outside it. But, Sachin not just equates to a mere Run-Machine delivering pile of Runs. What however makes him what he is, the God of all Indian cricket fans, is not just his technique or his ability to dominate bowling.
Thanking Heaven

It is that for decades he has represented one thing.

Hope.
The man - the charioteer of hopes of a country of billion

Maybe the batsmen at the other end suck. Maybe they have sold out to bookies. It does not matter.

As long as he is at the crease, anything is possible. The vendor selling nuts knows it. Grandmother knows it. So does the opposition captain.

One of the characteristics of his greatness as a batsman is he, more than any of his contemporaries (Sehwag comes close somewhat to this at his best) can play the same irrespective of the pitch. Numerous times I have seen matches where it has seemed that Sachin and his partner batsman are batting on different pitches—-nowhere more evident that in that semi-final at the Eden Gardens when as long as he was batting, one could not quite understand what a minefield that pitch had become, why Sanjay Manjrekar at the other end was playing the ball with his chest and thighs, whereas Sachin was playing with consummate ease. Once he got out then we realized what had come to pass.

Creamed through the covers. Ahead of his contemporaries, by Miles

But in order to fully understand Sachin the phenomenon, as an identity that subsumes Sachin the sportsman, one needs to take a step back and look at him from a non-cricketing perspective.

To call him India’s most famous sportsman ever is like calling Mahatma Gandhi the country’s most famous politician.

Sachin is much more.

He is a cultural icon, someone who has his place booked in the history books. No not just cricketing history. National history. This is because of what Sachin represents—- the epitome of the Indian dream. A man from middle-class origins, not a star-son or the scion of a political dynasty who rises to the very top by the dint of his own merit, not because he looks good or can shake his body but because he has a genuine skill which very few in the world have, an inspiring success story in a country where the odds against you are mounted in every domain unless you are an “insider” with “jugaad”.

The most loved & worshipped School Boy ever

Sachin with his wife Anjali
Starting a new partnership, a new innings in Life ...

Sachin recieving 'Padma Vibhushan' award - Second highest civilian award in India


But that’s just half the story. What makes Sachin “God” is because once he has attained fame, he has still held onto the values Indians adore—-that of being humble, unassuming, possessing a commitment to his work which is emphatic without being aggressive, well-defined without being brash.

Putting it in an another way, his supreme quality in life is that he has maintained balance. Just like he does when he is in sublime batting form.

Wielding the willow everytime the country & the billion countrymen asking for it.

The little boy, who will go on to become the unstoppable stud .....


He may drive a Ferrari and may be one of the biggest names in the country but he is found in the same building he grew up in, still playing cricket with the locality boys when his schedule permits. He does not compromise his dignity on the field or off it. Unlike his colleagues who punch cameramen, shout at groundsmen and in general behave like brats after attaining a fraction of what he has achieved, Sachin never for once in his life has ever betrayed a “I am a VIP so stand aside” attitude, being unfailingly polite to everyone from ground-staff to fans, at the same time not compromising on his privacy or his personal space. Without getting into eyeball-to-eyeball slanging matches, he has been as aggressive on the field as the best of them. Anyone who has tried to verbally intimidate him, from McGrath to Kasprowicz have realized Sachin’s toughness after being hit into the stands, as players all over the world recognize that abusing him is like spitting at the sun, the froth goes up and lands up in your own face.

To me personally Sachin’s most endearing quality is that he still cares. Unlike his colleagues who hang out with groupies after a defeat shrugging it off as a bad day in office, even after twenty years he still feels the pain of a defeat, just like the fans do. It is a pain that even a cynic like me recognizes to be genuine and while I may chuckle at displays of overt patriotism in a sport where the only thing that matters is money, my throat still chokes up seeing Sachin kissing that little square on his helmet after scoring a century or when he says post-match that he has lived his dream of playing for India for twenty years. It is so straight-from-the-heart, an emotion stemming from such a child-like conviction in the honor of representing one’s country that it melts the most cynical of us.

A Billion Hearts beat faster with each of those shots

It makes us want to believe. That there is something greater than us, our wallets and our lives. Yes it makes us believe. At least for a few seconds.

This is the magic of Sachin.

This is why he is different.

And this is why we love him.


Regards,
Satadru Roy