How Tendulkar helped me retire, unhurt

I call my generation of Indians as the "Doordarshan generation", because of the shared monoculture embodied by the national broadcaster and the overwhelming nostalgia for the DDiot box. "Tendulkar generation" may be another good candidate: we came into sporting consciousness by surfing the after-wave of the '83 Cup victory and helped make cricket a single-minded national obsession.

In the centre was "Sachiiin, Sachin". He was the only child prodigy we could tolerate and not feel envious of. He became a solitary and tragic soap operatic figure - Fate, doubtlessly clad in rich georgettes and heavy makeup, constantly conspired to thwart his success and tried his sincerity and talent in every episode. Like our moms would with Tulsi and her ilk, we stood by him, knowing Sachineva Jayate. There were those who doubted him, and fought from the shoulders of Sourav or Rahul, but we knew we'd win in the end.

And look who is still padding up. The end has come and gone.

My relationship with sport has changed dramatically. It may be a dreaded sign of becoming a grown-up or an inevitable cooling off. The first signs came when I realised I had accumulated very few stories of watching sport from recent times. No more I-sat-up-and-watched or did-you-also-notice or I-still-can't-believe-it. The few stories that stuck featured Federer, Nadal, and Messi. Where at one point, I had shelves full of daring cricket stories, now I had the woodwork being gnawed away by the termites of apathy.

Like a Nick Hornby character, I could write an autobiographical account purely through the lens of Indian cricket and Tendulkar. The Abdul Qadir over: I was at a friend's place, watching my friend's father howling in delight over this little fella smacking the world's best leggie. Aamir Sohail's wicket to turn around the '92 WC match: at home, during exams, just after a immensely annoying but short power-cut. '93 Hero Cup Semi-Final: at cousin's place the day after father was admitted to hospital with malaria. The Pakistan Test at Chennai: on stage at a quiz final, getting score updates from the only person on stage with both a pager and a complete lack of interest in sport.

And so on and so forth through the nineties and the noughties and what-do-they-call-this-decades, proving wrong uncles who thought India couldn't chase big scores, proving friends right through big-match failures, collapsed in prayer and stuck in superstitious chairs, and choosing to stay away from debates of being "overrated". And a World Cup win, and a 4th innings chase, and some other tidbits. (But never a direct hit: he always sucked at throwing down the stumps to run someone out.)

We knew that one day it would happen: Sachin would retire. This wasn't a Superman comic or a Nancy Drew book or a myth about a Chiranjeev. Things came to an end. And then there was personal business. In these enlightened times where everyone sings solemn paeans to productivity, it was hard to ignore the time being spent in watching your team lose. Or win. It was hard to tell the difference any more. So I knew I would have to move on too. Perhaps, somewhat like with friends from fifth standard, I could promise to 'keep in touch'. But the channel doesn't show Sportscenter anymore and the subcription to Sportstar lapsed two years ago.

So how would I feel? What would I miss? What would I do, post-retirement? These questions circled around me, setting up me up for a soft dismissal that I would weep over.

The Master Blaster to the rescue. I don't know how, but I've been led to a point where I just couldn't care. The fan-muscles had atrophied, but with overuse. No debate would goad me into a response; no allegation would rile me; no snigger would evoke an instinctive reaction. Yes, Tendulkar is still around, far beyond what anyone would have expected a decade ago. He's overseen my transition from naive and rabid supporter to oxymoronic objective fan looking for beauty in sport to a devil-may-care-but-I-don't bystander. This is mostly true of cricket; since my involvement with other sports was relatively skin-deep, they have escaped this fierce U-turn.

100 hundreds, or 24 years not out, or 30k+ runs - the numbers are so big that they are insignificant. Somewhat like the length of the orbit of Jupiter. It makes utterly no difference to my life - and if he hadn't been around for so long, I would not have realised that.

This makes my cricket retirement utterly bearable, and I have, like with many things in life, Sachin Tendulkar to thank for it.

---

* Some of my old Tendulkar posts
* A truly illuminating article by Jonathan Wilson on the value of sport to our lives.

Visualising Tendulkar's 100 different hundreds

Yes, I know it's an artificial cohabitation of two distinct set of numbers, but that provided an interesting dataset to try some hobby-visualising on. The idea for this 10x10 layout came from a similar graphic in yesterday's Indian Express. This was literally & conceptually devoid of any colour, reducing the communication to one lump of 100. I wanted to see the wins & losses, the calendar streaks, the Tests vs the ODIs.

This is what I came up with (click on the picture to see a bigger version). I leave it to you to draw your own conclusions about Tendulkar's career and India's cricketing history of the last two decades viewed purely through his hundreds. Of course, not every nuance can be captured in such a visual, but hopefully, it should give some cricket followers something to chew on.

I enjoy trying to visualize data. Here's an attempt to make a visual resume - slightly outdated.

The Rahul Dravid of the year

December 31st is the Rahul Dravid of the year - everyone is waiting eagerly for the next guy to come in, about whom everyone is exceptionally hopeful about, irrespective of how great Dec 31st was. (Eventually they'll blame that guy for practically everything in their life that year, instead of realising that the days are different, but they remained the same).

December 31st is always overshadowed by the promise of the next wicket.

(Previous December 31st commiserations. Have a super 2012, but have an even better Dec 31, 2011!)

Legend Before Wicket

If he was a character in the world of Asterix, Shane Warne's pseudonym could be "Climax" (no, not because of what you are thinking, even though this is Shane Warne we're talking about). I refer merely to his uncanny ability to, as they say, write his own scripts. Thanks to Gatting Ball, no one remembers the hiding he got at the hands of the Indians at home. He snatched World Cup glory in 1999, almost single-wristedly. Then came back from a dope scandal in Sri Lanka to take ten wickets, nose ahead of his great rival Murali to the 500 wicket mark, and eventually give Australia the series. Got a Test hat-trick. Made it to 600 wickets. Struck an appropriately purple patch leading a greenhorn side to the maiden IPL crown.

Hollywood, they called him for his blond locks and superstar attitude. Now, you could put it down to his irresistible sense of destiny. The Great Scorer above is in cahoots with the Great Scripter.

The other modern script-God was Brian Lara, what I call Lady Luck's own favourite love-child.

Meet Sachin Tendulkar, Mr. Anti-climax. No Hundred in his 100th Test. World Cup only in his 6th attempt. No Man of the Match in the final! No Chennai-Test-win.

I think what people demand of him and his guardian angels are the fairy-tales. He's done the long-suffering boy-on-the-burning-deck-act. But there's been a distinct lack of gold-dust, that ephemeral moment when destiny collides with opportunity, and bang! an aura that no amounts of botox or naughty-texts can mask.

That the gods would forget to sprinkle some love on the boy-genius seems strange, after the start he had in life: three consecutive first-class hundreds, that massive Shardashram partnership, and a bloody lip in his first Test.

Do you live like the Prince or as the King?

Roger Federer, my new Tendulkar

For a period beginning from the earlier part of this century to about a couple of years ago, my viewings of Sachin Tendulkar batting went like this. As soon as the great man walked in, a stomach-full of butterflies danced their unholy steps - so keen was I for him to do well and to prove each detractor (death to them!) wrong. Sometimes, it came off, but many times, it didn't. The only positive was that the butterflies would immediately vacate said space to leave a brief emptiness.

Until a Zen-like realisation dawned that allowed me to accept and appreciate whatever Tendulkar provided each minute in the middle. Subject sometimes to the moods of the jealous sporting gods. Irrespective of large or infinitesmal.

It worked, because now, it doesn't matter all that much. And he's enjoyed an 'nth' Australian summer.

For the greater part of the last tennis season, Roger Federer became my new Tendulkar. It was painful to watch, not because he was hitting balls into the net, but because a figurative string had snapped in that divine racket. The most recent illustration came on Sunday, when Tomas Berdych walked in and snatched two sets without leave or license. The butterflies ordered some more nectar and boogied away.

Hard to say exactly what impression the next three sets had. The man who played, nay sweetly horsewhipped, Juan Martin del Potro today had absolutely no effect on my stomach, apart from causing satisfaction that I doubt even a gourmet meal at The Ritz would come close to matching. The second set - the first of two bagels of the match - was sufficiently sublime for us to congratulate del Potro on managing to take three games in the first set.

In fact, let's digress to pay a tribute to del Potro, the recipient of a sympathetic near-apology from the man on the other side. Those very same sadistic sporting gods chose you because someone had to be on the other side of the net. No one deserves that. Despite your own lux-quotient (you are #6 in the world, remember), the light at the other end was a pleasantly blinding experience. You are more than someone who had to serve every other game, more than a straight man in the wrong kind of act, more than a hula hoop for a God. You deserve to star in your own YouTube videos, rather than a hapless cameo in someone else's.

Yes, I'm getting 'kinda' cocky. Blame it on Roger Federer, who even chose to head a ball across the net than merely accept yet another point won via happy slaughter. Who knows, I might even hex him in the semis. But the mood he was in today was a return to the days that made grown tennis players want to speed-dial their moms so that they could weep into their laps.

Naturally, it's appropriate that his semi-final opponent is Andy Roddick.

Thanks Sourav and Rahul - take a rest

Thanks Sourav and Rahul - take a rest

I agree with Harish: "even I" don't understand the brouhaha. This is one of those rare occasions when a decision seems to have been taken after some analysis and giving a captain the team he wants.

Idiots like Sidhu, who challenged Vengsarkar to an open debate and promised to get off NDTV if he (Sidhu) couldn't be convinced, have naturally been blowing hot air everywhere. I wish the Colonel would do so and help us get rid of the man with a mouth the size of Bournemouth - though convincing Sidhu of anything is as difficult as balancing a cycle stand on your bum (others can do "it" too, O' sherry-punjab). However, friends like Aniket have lamented the omission of Ganguly (who are these Dravid fans who went on a rampage - I'm impressed steady ol' Rahul evokes such emotions!), so would like to draw their attention to the following fact. In the recently concluded Test, Sourav Ganguly was clearly the weakest Indian fielder on the ground, and his spate of illnesses have not helped at all. The "fielding" issue is an extremely valid one on these large Australian grounds, and if the ODI captain does not feel he could use these two batsmen, then there is no point in including them.

In fact, the day Tendulkar's strong arm gives way, I'll call for his omission too. Right now, he still remains an order above the other veterans in terms of ability and intent when it comes to fielding in the deep and scampering between the wickets.

Meanwhile, the whole issue has spurred Harish to humour - this is the kind of effect this landmark tour is having on people!

Adapting like Tendulkar

Adapting like Tendulkar

Just been watching some highlights from the Perth Test match today. After watching Tendulkar safely cut over the slips, including one outrageous fine cut close to the body, it again amazes me how he manages to adapt to various conditions. Now, bouncy pitches like Perth or at Bloemfontain (where in 2001, Tendulkar merrily cut his way to a ton) aren't available for practice everywhere else. How does someone like Tendulkar summon up the resources and the confidence and even the cheek to try paddle-sweeps and fly-cuts in addition to the usual set of scalpels and power-saws in his quiver?

The answer has to be just an abundance of talent, or as some say, genius.

The fall-out and the falling-out: what they don't seem to get

The fall-out and the falling-out: what they don't seem to get

It hasn't been a week into a new year and cricket gets punched in the stomach already. There's just so much news and views flying about that it's hard to keep one's hat on. Here's an attempt.

What the Aussies don't get
* Ricky Ponting doesn't realise he's seen as being (and mostly rightly so) as statesman-like as a headhunter in Borneo aiming for the world record in skulls. The whole affair has turned into a question of integrity (what Inzy would call "izzat"). His behavior on the last day was fairly provocative and did not show any of the restraint or objectivity expected of an international captain.

* Clarke and Ponting have both explained that they felt they had taken their catches, while many viewers thought the opposite. In fact, Ian Chappell felt the same way about Clarke's case. I respect Chappell for his independent views, even though I don't necessarily agree with him. So assuming he has no reason to lie or cheat, the problem is as follows: these three think that the grounding of the ball happened after the ball was in control of the catcher. I'm not sure how this interpretation came about. It is commonly accepted that the ball should not touch the ground at any stage until the catch is completed. On both counts, this was not so. This little difference is at the heart of these incidents. I do not know how the Aussies came to believe this was so - no one else would agree. You try everything to keep the ball off the ground while taking a catch such that there is no reason to doubt your control of the catch. Clarke and Ponting do not realise this (read Rajaraman's account of his run-in at the stormy press conference at the end of yesterday).

* Clarke also does not acknowledge that essentially it is not his opinion that the catch was clean that matters. It must seem from the outside to have been clean. His opinion is superfluous to proceedings. The fact that Benson made that significantly stupid error in consulting Ponting (and the naivete of the "pact" - more on that later) should not obscure this.

* Gilchrist has been subdued in his reactions to Kumble's "one team was playing cricket" comment. He is somewhat justified in claiming that he did not know whether Dravid had nicked the ball or not - we can never tell. It is only speculation and opinion that leads people to claim he should know - I do not not have the experience to claim this. However, there is no doubt that he was carried along with the ugliness of the spirit of his team on the day, which will remain a blot on his record.

* The Australian cricket team does not seem to understand the seriousness of the situation w.r.t how it is being perceived in India. The Indians have a genuine grievance made worse by the fact that there is, as in the Harbhajan career, a couple of patterns. One, the Aussies have themselves escaped serious penalties in the past, right from the Slater-Dravid-Venkat incident in 2001 to the Sarwan-McGrath case. A Lehmann-ban apart, the Aussies are seen to have "getting away with it". Very few in Oz seem to recognize that. In addition, as in 03-04, the umpiring decisions again swung mainly for Oz. I have it as 8-2 in their favour. Ponting should at least have the grace to admit that had Symonds been given out at any stage, the match may not have gone the way it did. Their refusal to acknowledge the significance of the luck going their way becomes galling for the ordinary fan.

* Symonds says that Harbhajan deliberately struck Lee sparking off the confrontation. When did this happen? Why didn't he complain then? Why did no one see this?

What the Indians need to get right
* Harbhajan Singh has some serious history behind him. He's no angel or "genial offspinner" as one TV channel chose to put it. All this talk of "giving it back to the Aussies" before the series may only have worsened things for easily-provoked types such as Harbhajan. The Indian team has a certain style and the captain is no coward. But don't be oblivious to this fact.

* By and large, the Indians have come out well. Kumble's just about managed to rein his emotions - a gargantuan effort matched by his courageous batting. Tendulkar has strongly defended the offie, and that is a huge certificate to have. They have got to keep the high ground. But did they complain about Hogg too late? Perhaps they should just go to the umpires each time an Australian says something. And carry a tape-recorder.

* It's a pity (as Harish rightly said) if the Indians don't play at Canberra. They will anyway play at Perth, it seems (unless the players can put their feet down against the board's pressures), and a chance to give Pathan, Sehwag, VRV Singh, perhaps even Karthik would have been lost.

* It was incredibly naive of Kumble to have agreed to the "word of the catcher" pact. I know it was meant to be of the "batsman asks catcher" variety, but how did he think this would work? And I don't mean to suggest Ponting would have used this in a Machiavellian sense: Ponting himself is incredibly naive in saying "this is how cricket should be played". Is he nuts? This was never going to work - it's very easy to trust to be eroded, even unknowingly. Vaughan had rejected this in the last Ashes - I hope this will be the last such mistake by the rookie captain. It was very cynical of Clarke to walk when he had edged a sitter to slips given the diabolical nature of the umpiring (he's had a horrendous run with the bat), but I don't think the Indians shouldn't ooh-aah about that. He was out and clearly so, and even the umpires couldn't give it out.

Proctor, the BCCI, the ICC
* Proctor was under tremendous pressure to be seen to be strict. After his see-sawing on the Yuvraj-dissent case and the whole Hair episode last year, he's got it wrong. Unless he's seen something no one else seems to have.

* The BCCI was just about better than a bunch of headless chickens this time, but with Rajeev Shukla and Niranjan Shah and Prof. Shetty all over the channels, thankfully they'd didn't totally screw this one up. However, I remain cynical of their worth - remember that flip-flop on the Sehwag-Denness case where Sehwag had to serve out one Test's ban?

* The ICC - well, that's another fine mess you've got us into. Here's four things you can do:

1. Get Simon Taufel and Aleem Dar on the plane to Perth, pronto. Even if they make mistakes, no one will accuse them of incompetence or worse, racism.
2. Stop the umpires from making a fool of themselves on field. The idea is to get decisions right, not worry about undermining authority or technology. Do whatever it takes to get the decisions right, even if it means having to overrule the on-field umpire. This may waste time, lead to ridiculous appeals and so on. Penalise effectively for this, but don't let the poor umpire stand there with his pants down.
3. Get the backfoot no-ball rule back. The umpires are standing so far behind. Put the rule back and allow the umps to see the no-balls properly and then have time to consider the LBW carefully.
4. Do we need a match ref AND a third ump? Get the ref's hands dirty, or at least get him to overrule the third ump when the ump becomes a chump.

And finally, the media. Reports of the "Dark underbelly of aussie reporting" came to the fore. Well, we have our own tabloid news channels here, who liberally used the word "cheating" and what not. Some decent reporting came in from Kadambari Murali (Hindustan Times), Gaurav Kalra (CNN-IBN), Siddhartha V (Cricinfo), and so on. But some of the reportage was exceptionally bad. Rediff used the headline "Prem Panicker: Ponting should be banned" while Panicker seems to have not used the words himself, it was what many hysterical commentors were saying. They don't see that the stalwarts of the Aussie media such has Peter Roebuck have strongly lashed out against the Aussies. Wonder what Richie Benaud is saying. Need some statesmen around. Wonder what the Don would have said.

Naughty thought: If the situation really boils over into something massive that splits world cricket, would the ICL benefit from this? Could the Aussie board refrain from banning ICL cricketers? Whatever happens, we all love a good black nose for the ICC and the BCCI, who have utterly let down world and Indian cricket respectively.

Finally, I read a news article about jail inmates going on a rampage in Jalandhar. Regrettable though the incident was, I was relieved to note that it was not to protest their fellow Sikh's punishment. Such is our (certainly my) overriding occupation with cricket at the moment. Can't really blame everyone else now, can I?

* (update) It seems that despite all the hullabaloo, Bucknor will stand in Perth too. This perfectly sums up the myopia of the ICC and the reason they continue to regress each year. That's enough - come back. Since 1992 and the Indian tour to South Africa, Bucknor has continued to torment the Indians. That's enough - come back home. Bucknor is a cool investment for the ICC - he earns them a whopping 2 million dollars.

Oh, and Mr. Kirsten: still want the job?

I'm planning to retire too

I'm planning to retire too

... from cricket. Perhaps the day the little lad a.k.a the great man heads back to Bandra for the last time, I'll symbolically switch off the TV. I just don't have it in me anymore.

Flash back to the late 80s and the early 90s. I watched every bit of cricket I could. I grieved when we lost (a lot). I learnt the meaning of the word 'exhilaration' when the Indian team won. There wasn't much in between. For a long while, my best moment in life (that's right, my own personal best) was India winning the Hero Cup in '93. Even at that age, I knew that personal highs lay far into the future - this was both an act of patriotism as well as an act of pure love (or so it seemed). As late as 2003, I was bitterly disappointed to have to travel to Ireland and in the process miss most of the World Cup. In the pre-cable days, I have spent standing on top of the sofa by the window to peek into the neighbour's TV to catch India v England in England. I loved the BBC commentary on radio. I was like that only.

I was also fortunate to see the Sachin era from start to finish. The Dravid-Ganguly-Kumble follow-up and the Azhar prelude bracketed it beautifully. I may have missed getting the most out of Akram, but I followed Warne, Rhodes, Gilchrist, the Waughs, the short-on-talk-only Windies and Brian Charles, the Flowers blooming along with the Zimbabweans (perhaps the most saddest story in recent cricket history), the natty New Zealanders. And so on. You know it's the nostalgia trip.

But I just don't identify with this team, or even with world cricket much more. There seems to be no flair whatsoever around, and there's not much on the horizon. What Bobby Simpson fears the most is happening pretty rapidly: teams aping Australia with a rapidity that is disastrous.

My friend Roshan will be pretty happy with my weariness: he always considered cricket to be a waste of time, a productivity-slaying-devil. It's just that there are so many things to do, and cricket isn't part of it. There must be other sports to watch, other passions to learn and be part of. I prefer watching arbit county cricket or Pura Cup action on the telly - guilt-free and zero emotional investment. Or play me replays of Warne switching on his array of headlights on some hapless South Africans and Englishmen. Will probably watch some of the Tests in Australia because I love watching cricket early in the morning. The promise of it all just hooks me. The rest of the day never lives up to it.

Sachin: tell us when you're going. I'm coming too.

Druid's out of potion

Ok, first of all, relax. Despite what the shrill news channels will have you believe, royalty has not decided to abdicate in favour of the sloth bears. So there's no need to "deconstruct the mind of Dravid", for the reasons are quite obvious.

As any clear-headed observer can tell, captaining India involves a lot more than playing cricket. Dravid is astute enough to see that two years in the saddle have been enough, and he seems of a nature sensitive enough to not have forgotten the inflammatory recriminations not-so long ago. As Siddhartha V. writes: "somewhere along the line, especially after Chappell's departure, Dravid probably realised he couldn't achieve what he set out to." Also, a diminishing output and a series where his captaincy was at times very lacklustre would have surely had him sealing the envelope on the resignation. It was best to relinquish and go back unfettered, to his primary skills as batsman and outstanding slip-catcher.

However, is this a "selfish decision", as some have called it? Not really - why have a captain who doesn't want to do it?

This brings the curtain down on a "cerebral" phase of Indian captaincy, which followed a much more extroverted "passion" phase. The spot, however, is likely to go to the third and (and despite being the youngest) oldest of the generation of 1974. I think he's going to take the job.

Since the next generation hasn't really thrown its hand up and claimed the moral right to lead, Sachin Tendulkar is necessarily going to be a stop-gap captain. No one can kid themselves that he will lead them into a new and glittering era. He can however help decide once and for all, the questions that have dogged the second half of his career. If the Class that was assembled in 1996 can safely and unitedly deliver Indian cricket to the future, they'd be remembered even more fondly.

As for Rahul Dravid, he's just a couple of years away from becoming India's best TV commentator. I have been awaiting this since the 1999 World Cup final.

Also read Rohit Brijnath's article on the topic.

The Nifty Nineties

They're to blame. They kept saying: why doesn't Sachin Tendulkar bat as he used to, a decade ago, when he used to blast the opposition out with a rocket pack and gelignite. In short, why doesn't he bat like he used to in the nineties.

Well, now you got it: all he can do is stay in the nineties.