Raju Korti
"When Sachin Tendulkar travelled to Pakistan to face one of the finest bowling attacks ever assembled in cricket, Michael Schumaker was yet to race a F1 car, Lance Armstrong had never been to the Tour de France, Diego Maradona was still the captain of a world champion Argentina team and Pete Sampras had never won a Grand Slam. When Tendulkar embarked on a glorious career taming Imran and Company, Roger Federer was a name unheard of, Lionel Messi was in his nappies, Usain Bolt was an unknown kid in the Jamaican backwaters. The Berlin Wall was still intact, USSR was one big, big country, Dr Manmohan Singh was yet to "open the Nehruvian economy. It seems while Time was having toll on every individual on the face of this planet, it excused one man. Time stands frozen in front of Sachin Tendulkar. We have had champions, we have had legends, but we have never had another Sachin Tendulkar and we never will."
Time magazine
It was end 1989 when I was about to lose my cherished bachelorhood at the altar of a martyrdom (read marriage) when the baby-faced, curly-haired Sachin Tendulkar walked into the Indian Test team facing a prospect -- which to use a mild word, was "daunting".
Immediately after, cricketing circles were abuzz -- and for right reasons -- that the young man's very first tour to the hostile and inimical Pakistan would be baptism by fire. No one gave the boy, barely out of his puffy teens, an outside chance to survive the onslaught of the likes of Imran Khan, Wasin Akram and Waqar Younis. A few weeks later, the famed fast bowling trio was eating out of its hands as the "sacrificial lamb" whacked them all over the park. The Phenomenon had arrived.
It is not my case to incommode you with all the tiresome statistics and records that the man tucked under his ebullient hat for 24 years and 200 Tests. But I have vivid memories of a crestfallen Wasim Akram sporting an apologetic smile each time his rocket-like bouncer was hooked with ferocity and ruthlessness and Waqar's helpless demeanour as his shoe-crushers were merrily crashed straight past him with the heavy bat that many thought the 16-year-old boy wouldn't be able to even lift. As my fellow journalist friend Mayank Chhaya says: "The straight drive defines the very aesthetics of cricket. Throughout his 24 years as a cricketer Sachin Tendulkar defined the very aesthetics of the straight drive. Tendulkar’s straight drive is a work of art and needs to be forever installed in a great museum."
Sachin presented a new face of Indian batting when most batsmen from the sub continent fought shy of standing up to the short-pitched stuff with the notable exception of Sunil Gavaskar and Mohinder Amarnath. Sachin didn't stonewall them to dig in. He smote them brutally and took the shine off the ball with an array of breath-taking copybook and unorthodox shots. After the first of his hundred hundreds, they just kept coming with spectacular regularity. So much so that counting those hundreds became a merely academic exercise. In fact, he gave the coveted landmark tinges of mediocrity. A century from his blade was a given and the man hardly missed his dates with them.
Comparisons, unfair though, hardly distracted Sachin for, he had everything else that his contemporaries didn't. While making life miserable for bowlers all over the world, he also didn't give a minute's respite to statisticians who had to fill their pens with ink to keep pace with the runs that he kept plundering. Every team was humbled in its own backyard, whatever the nature of pitch.
One does not occupy a space in people's hearts with just exploits. Even as accolades, money and awards kept falling in his kitty, Sachin exhibited one aspect of his character that many either lose or divorce when fame and recognition come their way.
On a few occasions that I caught up with the man, he had this uncanny ability -- off the field -- to underplay himself. He was, of course, difficult to get through to, but when one did, he was humble and genial to a fault. Never ever carrying the burden of the reputation he had to guard all the time. Having followed his enviably long career until today when a beholden Indian Government honoured him with the Bharat Ratna, I suspect that Sachin, apart from honing his batting skills, also practiced the fine art of displaying a self-effacing demeanour. You might have seen even a normally unruffled Rahul Dravid sporting a frown but never so with Sachin. He was stoic and took bad decisions and publicity with a face as straight as his bat. Recall the manner in which he conducted himself following the Monkeygate. While the other players in that controversy -- Matt Hayden and Ponting huffed and puffed, Sachin stood firm in rebutting them with a dignity that some of our new generation players like Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma need to imbibe. The pangs of an unfair decision were dropped by the wayside during his nocturnal car rides on the streets of Bandra. Sign of a man who had his head firmly on his shoulders.
At the cost of sounding a little uncharitable, I dare say that this was a Sachin Tendulkar who marketed his humility exceedingly well, never wearing his achievements on his sleeves. It sent the right signals to a legion of fans who had already conferred the status of a demi-god on his durable shoulders. At the other end of the spectrum, there were also the discerning few who saw an unending greed in the fellow as his coffers kept swelling to make him the richest sportsperson in the country -- and maybe among the world.
True, in the last four years, Sachin was a mere shadow of himself that many of us were privileged to watch in his prime. His batting had become laboured and runs were grafted rather than being plundered as was his won't. Criticism was becoming increasingly strident that he stuck to his place in the team at the cost of languishing new talent and as someone who was believed to be too big for the BCCI's boots. No one had the guts to tell him that it was time for a "safe passage" unlike the legendary Sunil Gavaskar who hung up his boots in his prime. With Sachin there was no question of "Why not" instead of "why" because these were norms applicable to only lesser mortals. That, however, was a tactical blunder condoned in lieu of all those majestic years that Sachin became an integral and inseparable part of the country's psyche. And although Sachin divided the country on the issue of his retirement, it was his charisma that ensured "all is well that ends well."
As a fitting tribute to the maestro, I suggest that his playing longevity be acknowledged by the benchmark of counting cricketing years in terms of "After Tendulkar (AT) and Before Tendulkar (BT). Just as they do for other mortals in terms of AD and BC.
What say?
 |
| Sketch courtesy my DNA colleague Bhagvan Das |
Time magazine
It was end 1989 when I was about to lose my cherished bachelorhood at the altar of a martyrdom (read marriage) when the baby-faced, curly-haired Sachin Tendulkar walked into the Indian Test team facing a prospect -- which to use a mild word, was "daunting".
Immediately after, cricketing circles were abuzz -- and for right reasons -- that the young man's very first tour to the hostile and inimical Pakistan would be baptism by fire. No one gave the boy, barely out of his puffy teens, an outside chance to survive the onslaught of the likes of Imran Khan, Wasin Akram and Waqar Younis. A few weeks later, the famed fast bowling trio was eating out of its hands as the "sacrificial lamb" whacked them all over the park. The Phenomenon had arrived.
It is not my case to incommode you with all the tiresome statistics and records that the man tucked under his ebullient hat for 24 years and 200 Tests. But I have vivid memories of a crestfallen Wasim Akram sporting an apologetic smile each time his rocket-like bouncer was hooked with ferocity and ruthlessness and Waqar's helpless demeanour as his shoe-crushers were merrily crashed straight past him with the heavy bat that many thought the 16-year-old boy wouldn't be able to even lift. As my fellow journalist friend Mayank Chhaya says: "The straight drive defines the very aesthetics of cricket. Throughout his 24 years as a cricketer Sachin Tendulkar defined the very aesthetics of the straight drive. Tendulkar’s straight drive is a work of art and needs to be forever installed in a great museum."
Sachin presented a new face of Indian batting when most batsmen from the sub continent fought shy of standing up to the short-pitched stuff with the notable exception of Sunil Gavaskar and Mohinder Amarnath. Sachin didn't stonewall them to dig in. He smote them brutally and took the shine off the ball with an array of breath-taking copybook and unorthodox shots. After the first of his hundred hundreds, they just kept coming with spectacular regularity. So much so that counting those hundreds became a merely academic exercise. In fact, he gave the coveted landmark tinges of mediocrity. A century from his blade was a given and the man hardly missed his dates with them.
Comparisons, unfair though, hardly distracted Sachin for, he had everything else that his contemporaries didn't. While making life miserable for bowlers all over the world, he also didn't give a minute's respite to statisticians who had to fill their pens with ink to keep pace with the runs that he kept plundering. Every team was humbled in its own backyard, whatever the nature of pitch.
One does not occupy a space in people's hearts with just exploits. Even as accolades, money and awards kept falling in his kitty, Sachin exhibited one aspect of his character that many either lose or divorce when fame and recognition come their way.
On a few occasions that I caught up with the man, he had this uncanny ability -- off the field -- to underplay himself. He was, of course, difficult to get through to, but when one did, he was humble and genial to a fault. Never ever carrying the burden of the reputation he had to guard all the time. Having followed his enviably long career until today when a beholden Indian Government honoured him with the Bharat Ratna, I suspect that Sachin, apart from honing his batting skills, also practiced the fine art of displaying a self-effacing demeanour. You might have seen even a normally unruffled Rahul Dravid sporting a frown but never so with Sachin. He was stoic and took bad decisions and publicity with a face as straight as his bat. Recall the manner in which he conducted himself following the Monkeygate. While the other players in that controversy -- Matt Hayden and Ponting huffed and puffed, Sachin stood firm in rebutting them with a dignity that some of our new generation players like Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma need to imbibe. The pangs of an unfair decision were dropped by the wayside during his nocturnal car rides on the streets of Bandra. Sign of a man who had his head firmly on his shoulders.
At the cost of sounding a little uncharitable, I dare say that this was a Sachin Tendulkar who marketed his humility exceedingly well, never wearing his achievements on his sleeves. It sent the right signals to a legion of fans who had already conferred the status of a demi-god on his durable shoulders. At the other end of the spectrum, there were also the discerning few who saw an unending greed in the fellow as his coffers kept swelling to make him the richest sportsperson in the country -- and maybe among the world.
True, in the last four years, Sachin was a mere shadow of himself that many of us were privileged to watch in his prime. His batting had become laboured and runs were grafted rather than being plundered as was his won't. Criticism was becoming increasingly strident that he stuck to his place in the team at the cost of languishing new talent and as someone who was believed to be too big for the BCCI's boots. No one had the guts to tell him that it was time for a "safe passage" unlike the legendary Sunil Gavaskar who hung up his boots in his prime. With Sachin there was no question of "Why not" instead of "why" because these were norms applicable to only lesser mortals. That, however, was a tactical blunder condoned in lieu of all those majestic years that Sachin became an integral and inseparable part of the country's psyche. And although Sachin divided the country on the issue of his retirement, it was his charisma that ensured "all is well that ends well."
As a fitting tribute to the maestro, I suggest that his playing longevity be acknowledged by the benchmark of counting cricketing years in terms of "After Tendulkar (AT) and Before Tendulkar (BT). Just as they do for other mortals in terms of AD and BC.
What say?
In tears...I lived in the time of sachin!!
ReplyDeleteThanks Annadu for that comment. I hope you will encourage me as always. Loads of love.
ReplyDeleteFantastic!!! Straight Drive from a Writer pays tribute to Straight Drive from a Legend!!!
ReplyDelete