20 Sachinating years
November 12th, 2009|
Much before Manchester United took giant strides into my life, the only sporting passion I had was Sachin Tendulkar . Watching Sachin Tendulkar bat was the only thing that got me going. The mood fluctuated accordingly on how Sachin had performed on the field. At my local colony ground, me and my friends tried to imitate the strokes which Sachin used to play and I am sure that’s something people growing up in the Tendulkar era also did. And I am very sure that kids even now would rather imitate his strokes than those of MS Dhoni. As any kid growing up in India, I was always fascinated by cricket from my early years. As a six year old, I had the privilege of watching the only ODI century Sunil Gavaskar has scored and the first ever hat-trick in a World Cup, which Chetan Sharma took. Both these distinictions happened in the same match, my first ever experience in a live stadium. And the memories are still fresh as a daisy. But this is not about my cricket watching expereinces. It’s about a man who has rewritten history books and changed the way cricket was watched, played, broadcast in this country and who certainly changed me as a cricket fan. As the clock ticks by, I know that the moments which have made me happy over the last two decades are now scarce commodities. Each century will be treasured more. There will be elation but mixed with a tinge of sadness. Sachin might look unbeatable but it’s impossible to beat Father Time. Much before Abdul Qadir was smashed out of the park by a 16 year old-kid and the legend was born, Indians had two favourite cricketers. Sunil Gavaskar and Kapil Dev. The aspiring bowlers wanted to be Kapil, while aspiring batsmen used to ape the forward defensive stroke perfected by Gavaskar. Then the autumn 1989 saw a curly haired boy with the thinnest of voices and a demeanour which suggested as Denzel Washington said in Remember the Titans, “This is my sanctuary”, the Indians found a new hero. Even before Sanjay Manjrekar scored a determined 218 against Pakistan, all eyes were fixed on how this boy would do. Poor Manjrekar, didn’t get too much credit for scoring loads of runs against an attack comprising Wasim Akram and Imran Khan, who were at their peak then. As if there was a force telling us “wait till you see the boy bat”. As the legend grew, so did the madness. Apart from driving bowlers and captains all over the world insane, the people of India were growing crazy over a 20-something boy. My first ever experience of watching Sachin in flesh came six years after he had made his debut. My father took me and my brother 400 kms away to Nagpur to see India play New Zealand. I knew the only thing I wanted was a century. After all these years of watching him on TV, this was my chance to see him bat. India were smashed to bits and pieces by Nathan Astle in that game. Back in those days a score of 348 was unheard of. But New Zealand did that. Had the crowd given up? No way! We cheered on and remained confident of beating the score. We knew with Sachin on the field, anything was possible. And Sachin didn’t disappoint. Although India lost the match, I got a glimpse of things to come in the future. A 60-ball 65 studded with a towering six and some trademark boundaries, we went home happy. It was the day when I probably realised, India winning was secondary to me. I was happy to see Sachin bat and the result was almost secondary. Perhaps that’s why my indifference to cricket these days doesn’t come as a surprise. Though other factors have contributed to cricket falling down in the pecking order, Sachin still manages to get me in front of the TV. The day he hangs up his boots would be the day all ties with cricket would be severed. You can lose faith in the religion and still have it back. But once the man who started that religion walks away, it’s almost impossible to find a way back. |





