1999. It was a decade since his debut in international cricket. He had already become a global phenomenon. India had begun worshipping their national idol with spectacular unanimity — a rare feat by itself. The World Cup tournament was underway, the biggest cricket show on earth. There was mounting euphoria and breathless anticipation all around as India had returned to their ground of renowned conquest of 1983 – England. India was considered a dangerous threat to reigning champions Sri Lanka and looked a redoubtable claimant to the prestigious throne. But every match mattered especially at the qualifying stages. Then suddenly his father died. Sachin Tendulkar was all of 26.

What followed can be easily fathomed. The shocking heart-breaking disclosure. A long and lonely painful flight to India over 10 hours. Security checks and perfunctory procedures to be followed. A family reunion under emotionally draining circumstances. A widowed mother. Pain. Memories. A loss that can never be humanly compensated. But he returned. Another 10 hour long flight. A jet lag, may be. Words of consolation from team-mates. Media attention. Maybe another sleepless night five days in a row. But he was still back. Determined. Resolute. Passionately committed as ever.

We watched him in awe and admiration—virtually thunder-struck, bowled over by his incredible batting. His father’s s funeral was perhaps not behind him but still within. But he had summoned preternatural energies, invoked his own inner faith, found his fortitude. Sachin Tendulkar was at Bristol playing a key group match against Kenya. He went on to score a resplendent 140 not out (101 balls), and on reaching the century mark looked up at the skies, in a silent poignant conversation with his just departed father. Perhaps watching him from the heavens. It was a moment that no one who saw that match will ever forget, and even if you were to watch it now, it will bring a lump to your throat. I believe that knock at Bristol symbolizes Tendulkar. A fighter whose love for the game surpasses mortal comprehension. A team man to the ultimate conceivable core. Exceptionally tough from within, with a capacity to internalize adversity, not easily decipherable in that soft voice and chubby cheeks in a still boyish impression. Above all, a very proud Indian.

I am not going to reminisce his several illustrious great knocks and statistical achievements because they are already of legend and will be forever repeated but I do believe there are besides the Bristol knock two other instances that manifest the man Sachin Tendulkar more realistically. I thought his decision to resign from the Indian cricket captaincy has never been properly understood. Or appreciated. There were many who intensely criticised him for chickening out of what seemed as his next natural responsibility in and for Indian cricket. Tendulkar, however, did not think so. He did finally what his inner convictions told him. He had no false illusions. No delusions of grandeur. Leadership is beyond mere cricketing greatness and requires several other human traits to make for impact. His decision to quit captaincy reveals the ultimate test most human beings fail in — knowing oneself. They say knowing others is wisdom, knowing oneself is enlightenment. Tendulkar chose to play to his strengths, and despite the power, prestige and pride of leading India rejected the top job because he sincerely believed that he did not possess the mettle to take charge of a struggling, beleaguered Indian team requiring a different kind of dynamism at the helm. He would be happier contributing to an Indian win, after all, wasn’t that the real reason for playing cricket anyway? As it happened, India was to find a suitable skipper in his southpaw colleague Sourav Ganguly who would go on to become one of India’s greatest captains. I think we should also credit Tendulkar for letting that transition happen with dignified ease.

The controversial Multan Test match declaration against Pakistan saw for the first time an emotionally disturbed Sachin, taken perceptibly aback by the sudden decision by his long-standing team-mate and captain Rahul Dravid . He was 5 runs short of a truly hard-earned double hundred against an obdurate bellicose adversary in their own den. I think Sachin felt hugely let down as for the first time he publicly expressed his distressed reaction to the world. What bothered him was not that he had missed a personal career record perhaps but the unfortunate corollary that he was playing for personal milestones. He was grievously hurt. What Rahul and he talked in person will have to await their personal autobiographies, but I think it altered personal dynamics within the Indian team forever. It was a defining moment which revealed a visible streak of emotional vulnerability in the brilliant sportsman.

For any professional player in any sport , a physical injury is a horrendous nightmare, a psychological scar that can have serious consequences in their future career. It can destroy a susceptible mind. I remember a famous weekly magazine that had drawn an MRI scanned image of Sachin’s entire backbone on the cover with a story that headlined something akin to — “Is Sachin Tendulkar’s career over?” This was after the agonizing defeat by 12 runs against Pakistan in that literally back-breaking and traumatic Chepauk Test loss. Ten years later the man scores a hurricane 175 in 141 balls and runs faster than his 20 something non-strikers. I think the Hyderabad exhibition was to perhaps send a not so subtle message to a Yuvraj Singh & co that you never call a playing colleague with the mental toughness of raging bull – ‘Grandpa.’ Ever.

Tendulkar’s innumerable innings will be perennially cherished, but those who saw it say that his double century within a single day at CCI against Australia where Bombay won the match in three short days, mentally pulverized Shane Warne perpetually into a mango pulp. The Test series victory that followed seemed a logical progression. Almost all my friends only wanted the Sachin Tendulkar tee-shirt that he wore for us in the CricketNext.Com match in Dhaka in 2000. I frankly believe that he is one of the most credible outstanding actors in a television commercial — even as a brand ambassador his sincerity shows. After all these years, his first captain K Srikanth is still selecting him and erstwhile team-mate Kapil Dev has developed a healthy golf handicap. Tendulkar shares the dressing room with Ishant Sharma , almost half his age. Adaptability has been his characteristic hallmark. It shows.

I was on a flight with him many years ago and Tendulkar was on his way to attending a training camp in Chennai. As we walked from the flight to the arrival lounge I asked him what I think he has been asked a million times. “Just how do you handle the constant and increasing madness of insane public expectations, the distracting cacophony that accompanies you to the ground every time you walk in? The irrational belief that you must score a blazing hundred time after time.” His answer was brief and instant. “It is easy. Once you take guard, settle down and take your stance everything else recedes effortlessly into the background. Everything. Then it is just the bowler, his hand and the ball coming at you. Nothing else.”

In 1989 I was 28 years. Since then, to use a cliché, change has been a constant. I remember Rajiv Gandhi’s dimpled smile and earthy innocence in his handsome countenance. LK Advani’s rath-yatra and VP Singh’s caste card was to change India’ political future and electoral logic. Manmohan Singh’s breakthrough liberalization policy and partial devaluation would bring India into the global sphere, even as we watched Jimmy Connors make a dramatic run to the semi-finals of the US Open at the age of 39 on Star Sports, on a satellite channel. Dr Prannoy Roy dazzling us with The World This Week and Newstrack with Madhoo Trehan. Aamir Khan play the charming tapori act in Rangeela and Shah Rukh Khan winning a near-billion hearts with his inimitable romanticism in DDLJ . Mahesh Bhupathi and Leander Paes capturing grand slams. Harshad Mehta and Ketan Parekh , stock market booms and woeful scams. Kargil. A war. A nuclear test. Malls, multiplexes, mobile phones and MS Dhoni. Marathi manoos and Abhinav Bindra . A new India. A new tomorrow.

But somewhere quietly right behind them all, rising unobtrusively into the endless skyline above, towering away and beyond into the blue skies, that same young curly haired boy from Bandra. Sachin Tendulkar. Nothing else.

Before we hang the Men in Blue by their cropped locks (long curls and pony-tails seem passé for India’s young brigade) first, the fundamental flaw. And second, how TV ratings and the Big Boss attitude of BCCI and it’s incestuous sponsors ensured India’s abbreviated presence in the ICC Champions Trophy 2009.

The ICC Champions Trophy format for entering the semi-finals was inherently skewed. They tried the FIFA combination of making it into a mini-league tournament without even the basic comprehension that FIFA matches are all fully completed ones (even if a drawn result). That is what makes the final result of league winners beyond dispute and unnecessary conjecture. Thus, it is a “fair and just” league format. This is precisely where the ICC blundered big-time.

If we have just 2 groups of 4 teams each, every game becomes a virtual knock-out for an early loser or net run-rate based good-fortunes becomes germane. The prime pre-requisite is a “completed match” otherwise teams are subject to whimsical weather conditions depriving them of a fair competitive opportunity. Ideally, they should have made each team play the other twice to establish fair results (since only the Top 8 teams were playing anyway), but since the more lucrative T20 Champions League awaits instant inauguration in a few days, that luxurious benefit had to undergo an austerity measure. So there were no rest days which in reality should be mandatory for international tournaments. Thus, India got somewhat literally washed out of the Australian clash depriving them of any scope for resurrection. When you are already trailing behind, a drawn result is like kissing your sister.

The ICC could have just gone for a do-or-die knock-out tournament like in Kenya 2000, but hey, that would have been little moolah for the sponsoring TV channel as there would be barely 7 matches to telecast. With the ODI version awaiting some tough examination, the ICC failed in giving the tournament what it desperately required – a serious competitive edge. South Africa, India and Sri Lanka tumbled out for their generous contribution in the Joy of Giving week . And overall, almost expectedly the public reception remained as frozen as a margarita. Frankly, the tournament has been a woebegone flop-show.

The Indians were distinctly insipid against their traditional adversaries Pakistan, but the latter deserves maximum credit for mounting a determined effort. Even if for only a brief period till the next T20 World Cup, Pakistan is riding high on that unexpected triumph in England and is relishing the world champion tag. The consequent buoyant confidence is evident. Thus, our neighbors have broken their dismal jinx against us in ICC championships. We beat the Windies convincingly, Tendulkar batted just once, and the rain took care of the rest. We were left ruing the consequences of mounting hubris.

In short, India has basically paid an astronomical price for BCCI greed and sponsor’s arrogance. Let me ask you; why was India’s match scheduled for prime-time TV viewing on a Saturday, days after the tournament had commenced? Don’t other countries in similar time zones or better ones also have a right to their peak audience? Since South Africa has several cricket grounds, why was India’s match delayed for week-end viewing? Why was our second crucial match slotted within 48 hours on a national holiday of Dussehra on Monday? Isn’t that perhaps the real reason why there was no rest day, otherwise India would have ended up playing on three consecutive days? And finally, wasn’t that one unfinished game against the Oz perhaps ultimately responsible for our early elimination, making the West Indies match as inconsequential as a video-game?

The truth is that ICC has blatantly followed BCCI sponsor diktats , and schedules India’s games at sponsor friendly times even at the cost of manipulating standard operating procedures for international matches ( the annulment of buffer days). It is really ridiculous. The fact that a Sunday has became a rest -day before the final being held on a Monday is atrocious and ideally makes no business-sense. But you know what I suspect? There was a supercilious assumption that India would enter the semi-finals anyway ( week-end traffic) , and that is where the TRPs would be staggering. If they reached the finals, knowing the crazy Indian hysteria, even a Monday would not matter.

Just because we have global cricket’s ATM machines centralized in India, we are behaving as if have a natural birthright to world championships. As the last two tournaments have established, overseas cricketers are using our hospitable turf for both match practise , summer diversion and windfall earnings and moving on to play serious cricket in their home tournaments. What are we doing instead? We are going even beyond the IPL and creating city-based T20 corporate leagues, and soon a Sachin Tendulkar or MS Dhoni will also be playing for Dabur , DLF or Dharamsi Morarji Chemicals. We are making our international assets into club cricketers. Mukesh Ambani and Preity Zinta might soon decide India’s and ICCs Test calendar as well. It is time we lowered our foolish aspirations of winning major tournaments, as our obsession to constantly manipulate international cricket is boomeranging on our faces.

Last I heard, some team called Cobras were busy hissing around at practise on our desi-soil. . Champions or Losers League, I don’t quite care. I am not joking, but I seriously suffer from ophidiophobia.

WARNING: IF YOU DON”T HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR, PLEASE STOP RIGHT NOW!

Sex has always been a very popular subject largely because it is so centrally located, I guess. Indian cricket coach Gary Kirtsen ably assisted by  one Paddy Upton  of course has tried hard to make a Peccadillo Circus of it , dazzling billboards standing erect from it’s towering frame. I am referring to the willful “leak” of his nocturnal plans for tired limbs, parched emotions, gnawing loneliness and severe depreciation of  prize assets of Indian cricketers . A  perfect tool-kit as it were. I won’t be surprised if that extraordinary exposition was circulated by Kirsten in hard cover as well, just in case his message failed to hit the bull’s eye . It could also be termed as fairly  user-friendly gesture from the team’s GPs ( Gary and Paddy).. .

When I first read Gary’s  patchily researched thesis on sexual tension affecting on-field performance of Indian players in screaming headlines in a normally conservative newspaper , I felt an unfathomable empathy for our bechara bachachas ( poor boys!)  in that wild country, cooped up in their dreary empty rooms watching their own muscular frames in large mirrors, in utter loneliness as their testosterone levels dipped towards the midnight hour. One also realized that we were into something not explicitly discussed in the more somber Fourth estate—the swinging libido of our paneer-paratha- swallowing stud-machines. It’s a corny issue. Or a horny one, whichever one you might choose. Either way, from the juicy instructions given out like a process note to undergrad chemistry students in their first day in the lab , it makes for some hilarious reading. It’s ticklish, for sure.

Firstly, since most of our chaps have attained puberty I hope , do they need the cricket coach to give them detailed sermons in fine print on basic raw instincts ? For heaven’s sake, I assume they hang out till choked by claustrophobia together, so can’t all this silly sex education be given as part of a chatty discourse? Now Kirsten reminds me of a local Chandni Chowk sexologist we used to get fascinated as kids to see in huge hoardings , who was India’s first official quack—he wore a massive turban and his moustache literally brushed his large ears. I also do confess to hearing some real salacious gossip about some celebrity Indian cricketers in Sri Lanka, the island nation clearly offering much more than just sand, sea breeze and salmons. So the truth is that Kirsten may be dealing with guys who are past-masters at figuring the mandatory work-out to boost sagging spirits to a T(estosterone).  .
I repeat unless Gary and Paddy  feel that our chaps are benign bozos ( and rest assured, some of them may be) you do not have to circulate such claptrap. Some of our guys are , I am assuming  happily married men with kids  , who the last time they may have been in another woman must have gone visiting the Statute of Liberty. I am sure GPs circulation will cause them with a lot to explain for their Man of the Match awards and those amazing records to their suspicious better-halves. The “Man” of the Match award may soon in any case become a misnomer. Everyone’s curiosity will be on that mysterious deserving woman responsible for those on-field pyrotechnics. .

My real objection is to Kirsten’s sloppy historical reference which manifests both factual inaccuracies and a trite explanation of the Indian national attitude. Sorry guys, but that was truly a lot of cock and bull crap.

As for MSD’s men , they will now with official approbation try their hand at sex  ( pun unintended) . Self-help has indeed been redefined.