Archive for the 'Cricket' Category

05
Mar
10

Mounting the Everest

By Sanjay Jha

I was in nearby Dubai watching Janko Tipsaveric upset constant British-hope of renewal Andy Murray in the ATP Masters 500 tennis tournament when I received a text message from both a passionate cricket aficionado and the publisher of my forthcoming book. It was as concise and compact as the man it described, the little Master of epic dimensions, Sachin Tendulkar. At first, I ignored it, accustomed as one is to Tendulkar’s incredible flourishes (particularly in the light of his recent centuries scored with effortless ease) and continued watching an exhilarating display of brutal double handed back-hand down- the- line shots, which had Murray staring in utter disbelief at his fashionably-bespectacled Serbian rival even as two British women sitting right behind me muttered sighs of despair as they reluctantly came around to accepting that Andy would be soon headed for the land of fish and chips, earlier than planned perhaps. But it was my wife’s SMS that really stirred things up. Her engagement with cricket is as fragile as bone china vase resting on a Chihuahua’s tail, and she finds the concept of an LBW fairly superfluous and complex. So when I read a hurriedly scribbled message from her about Sachin’s record runs, I knew there was something mind-numbing that had happened. I think I sighted a blue moon in the Dubai night that evening.

Sometimes you wonder what makes the man that he is especially when he is considered to be in the December of his career. At age 37 almost, with more surgical interventions in his body than the others, what inspires such greatness that 200 runs flow against a formidable South African bowling attack in a miserly 147 balls? There is also a significant little nugget that we may have inadvertently overlooked. While carping cynics will point to the bald head of the Gwalior pitch, remember, this was supposed to be South Africa’s grudge game, a planned assault to avenge that Jaipur heart-stopper which denied them what could have been a humdinger of a win. It therefore makes Tendulkar’s belligerent counter-attack even more meaningful and not just a statistical marvel. The fiery battery of pace-bowlers of the Proteas, Dale Steyn, Wayne Pernell, Charles Langevedlt et al were supposed to tame the 17,000-run machine into meek submission, but what followed was a role reversal.

Now how does one explain this indescribable phase in Sachin’s already ornamental career, when most peaks have been majestically, almost insouciantly captured ? 13,447 Test runs, 17,598 ODI runs, record partnerships, 93 hundreds in both forms of the game and a daunting average! I think it has to do a lot with freedom. The freedom to be oneself. Beyond everyday scrutiny, minute assessments, relentless tracking, a constant whirl of being challenged on to another record. When you care, and yet you don’t. When winning is everything, and yet it isn’t. When a century is welcome, but big deal if otherwise. It is an internal emotion, a private sentiment that happens imperceptibly to those who attain greatness. Of course records matter, but runs matter more, because records are a mathematician’s googly for armchair discussions, for endless realms of newsprint. The 175 against Australia at Hyderabad last year was a manifestation of Tendulkar’s new-found unencumbered space, his latitude to excel knowing no magnitude. The same relaxed freedom with which Roger Federer dispatched a rejuvenated in-form Murray at the Australian Open. No point to prove, no new personal benchmarks to set. It is just that the natural impulse takes over. The rest is for us media guys to ruminate on. Argue about. And debate endlessly till the cows go to sleep.

In a way a tempestuous ghost of the past has been silently buried. In 1997 on a sultry, sweltering summer evening Saeed Anwar, the erstwhile Pakistan opening batsman had ruthlessly destroyed Indian bowlers scoring 194 runs in 146 balls as Pakistan triumphed despite a momentary Indian fight-back. In that match Sachin scored four runs and looked disconsolate and despondent as any skipper would feel after an emphatic defeat. To rub salt in India’s wounds it was India’s 50th year since 1947 and the title trophy was appropriately called Independence Cup. I recount Sachin’s sorrowful countenance and albeit I never saw the Gwalior princely execution the other day, I think it was divine justice that he achieved the unthinkable and broke the shackles of a 13-year-old nightmare.

Sachin has now played with almost two generations; Kris Srikanth his first captain is now a 50-year-old selector and he shares the dressing room with young Ishant Sharma, Virat Kohli and Ravinder Jadeja, and rookie teenagers of Mumbai Indians. It is this seamless adaptation, his enduring flexibility and lack of ego which makes him singular. As I had written earlier, somewhere deep down inside I don’t think he was prodigiously amused at being called the grand old granddad by an audacious Yuvraj Singh. In his case the spirit is willing, so is the flesh. He needs no external stimulation from the statistical minded who goad him to break Brian Lara’s 400-run record or score 50 centuries in Tests. His insatiable hunger for runs is a mysterious biological phenomenon and could be worthy of a Harvard Medical School research study as it defies that age-old doctrine of diminishing production with extended longevity. Sachin defies traditional laws of nature.

Comparisons are usually odious and the ones with Don Bradman are typically provincial and need to be earnestly dismissed. How can anyone contrast Rod Laver’s two same calendar year Grand Slams after a long hiatus in between with Roger Federer’s wondrous 16 career Grand Slams? Two players. Different generations. Unique formats. Distinctive shift in the game’s character. Even technology and equipment. Personally, I think Tendulkar shuns these exaggerated blandishments himself as he does those wily swinging deliveries tempting him to make a front-foot drive.

 He may have moved from his modest abode of Bandra East to a more swank and swish Bandra West, but he is still somewhere Ramakant Achrekar’s curly haired unassuming mild mannered obsessed student. A dutiful pupil, a learner of the game. Constantly shifting. Always on the look-out for an opportunity. Monitoring his opponents. Reading the field placements. Checking the score-board. Judging the run with his co-striker. But above all, he is a lover of the game.

For Tendulkar , tomorrow is just the beginning of a new love affair.

23
Feb
10

The ‘home truth’ about Kolkata

MS Dhoni it seems perpetrated the most horrendous, barbaric and grizzly crime since August 15 1947 against his own beloved country when India mercilessly thumped South Africa in Eden Gardens, Kolkata to joyfully avenge it’s equally mortifying defeat in Nagpur in the first Test just a few days earlier. At the time of writing though, the Shiv Sena had not yet resorted to asking Dhoni for a public apology for the anti-national act of winning a Test match at home. But a quick synopsis of the emphatic victory first. 

It is indeed rare that a team that loses a Test match by an innings and 57 runs still ends up winning the Man of the Match award. Hashim Amla, the South African number three batsman must have had strange, difficult feelings after Morne Morkel was declared out LBW to the treacherous guile of Harbhajan Singh, furiously celebrating his much-awaited resuscitation after a brief hiatus. Amla’s predicament and heart-burn is understandable as he stood a lonely figure amidst collapsing pillars of the Proteas , accumulating into mountainous ruins. India won the second Test match by a massive margin thus leveling the short series 1-1 and tenaciously holding onto it’s newly acquired no 1 ICC ranking in Test cricket. Four centurions, effective bowling and inspired captaincy makes for a potent threat and a deadly force for any team. South Africa was no exception to the Indian assault. They caved in despite late rearguard resistance.

The Kolkata triumph has to be reviewed in it’s contextual relevance post-the brouhaha that was caused by the Nagpur rout . The continued injury of senior batsmen like Rahul Dravid and Yuvraj Singh certainly aggravated Dhoni’s woes. But more importantly the colossal damage caused to self-confidence and team morale after an unexpected white-wash could have been fairly debilitating even for those with a hard hide. The win is therefore worth it’s weight in gold biscuits. Also, India was up against a determined adversary. But even as the uncorking of champagne bottles seemed germane there were may chronic cynics who were already pouring unfiltered cold water over it. Big deal, they said.

An argument that several cricket analysts and deep-seated pundits often make with great relish since the time the dinosaurs chose extinction over George Bush Jr is that India continues to decimate opponents only at home. It is an endless monologue uttered with half-baked conviction , a peculiarly distorted theory but one which finds plenty of popular acceptance. It is of course true to a large extent , but I have a simple answer—-SO WHAT? Would they rather that we lose these matches at home? Will that satiate their craving for neutral , same -as -everywhere level-playing field environment whatever that is? By the way, wasn’t Dhoni’s request for a spinner-friendly wicket turned down by the Kolkata curators ,anyway?

Incidentally, can weather conditions, nature of soil and pitch behavior , heavy dew and blowing dust , slant of the sunshine, excess humidity, crowd conduct, the nature of balls causing reverse swing, even the sight-screen and playing hours be homogenized amongst cricket-playing nations? Would not cricket be a boring predictable fare if every venue offered you standardized fare, if at all that was possible ? Is it not the thrill of playing in different, diverse and even deceitful conditions which really tests the best and encompasses the beauty of the game? Would we have still not called Roger Federer the greatest ever for his mind-numbing acquisition of grand slams even if he had not won a solitary French Open, albeit the latter truly made it even more memorable ? Was not Steve Waugh all charged up to pulverize the Final Frontier because of it’s historical duplicitous inaccessibility to them over many decades? Diversity applies to all, and is not just India’s monkey.

By the way, did not the same Graeme Smith’s team send us howling after the hammering in the BCCI chief’s home-town only a week ago , right ? And Nagpur is in India, no?? And didn’t the final frontier finally crack, crumble and collapse against the Australians in 2004, , co-incidentally in Nagpur itself? While a victory abroad is certainly laudable, how is it really different from a hard-earned win or a casual walk-over at home?

If you have been following things other than the senseless IPL-related imbroglio which grabs sustained headlines from one meaningless controversy to another meaningful triviality, you will find that Australia has discourteously if not with altogether extreme vulgarity sent Pakistan and West Indies packing in death-defying hurry from the comfort of their familiar home-living room. Did not England win back-to-back Ashes series while having fried fish and chips in the good ole’English weather ? . Does that in any way diminish their superlative show?

Cricket analysts are recommended to kindly follow the Davis Cup tournament format to understand why Spain ( with Rafa Nadal , Fernanado Verdasco and David Ferrer) is unlikely to provide the USA (Andy Roddick, Sam Querry and John Isner) with fast hard-courts instead of it’s famous red clay at a home encounter. And vice versa. Why does Leander Paes always sport a sly grin when playing on green grass? When you call someone home for a meal do you check with the guests their preferred menu ? You know what, I don’t. And frankly, we always end up offering the same meal for our unsuspecting friends what we usually like ourselves the most. That is frankly the ” home truth”.

I think this “winning abroad” obsession is a mind-set issue. A win is a win, period! Will the Aussies ever make Perth into a deceptive deluding turner just because Harbhajan Singh might want to tease them with a tweak? Never ! Yet, against all bleak forecasts of preordained doom, we won there right ? Therefore if we feast on them like crunchy salad in our dust-bowls, so be it. It is quid pro quo. Frankly, it evens out. Just as much as we harangue our boys about winning abroad, shouldn’t the overseas teams be equally challenged to topple us on our turf? In fact, the best thing about playing in different conditions is that it compels global players to become adaptive to new environments even as they must preserve their stranglehold on domestic terrains. Each is as important as the other. I think it is about time we discarded the bad habit of attaching a premium to an overseas win , even as we discount our domestic reveling. It is a heads you win, tails I lose proposition.

There is an old Indian saying that apne ghar me chooha bhi sher hota hai (in one’s own home even the rat is like a lion). At least after the Kolkata win, India is ahead in the rat-race. At home!

17
Nov
09

Sachin Tendulkar. Nothing else

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.

12
Oct
09

The cost of greed: India exits

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.

12
Oct
09

Who is the goat? Ponting or Tendulkar?

One of the most astute moves made by a cricketer recently went largely unnoticed, as perhaps several felt that was a sulky over-reaction to a devastating emotional loss of the Ashes. And that too a catastrophic second time on the enemy’s well-laid battle-field. I am referring to Ricky Ponting’s (34) determined decision to quit T20 cricket to further lengthen principally his Test career, now in it’s testing last quarter. On the face of it, it looks professionally imprudent and commercially unwise, and evidently swimming against mounting tides. After all, we have had diametrically opposite reactions from the majority of cricketers, including Adam Gilchrist and Matt Hayden amongst others, who have preferred the pragmatic get-rich-quick-scheme of T20 over whatever remained of their Test and ODI careers. Then there were others like Shane Bond who switched sides to ICL with speed as fast as a bowling machine can capture, their national commitments and official records be damned. That is what makes Ponting’s decision, in my opinion, a tactically brilliant one, well-conceived, thoughtfully internalised. But most importantly, with a purpose.

Ponting has not explicitly admitted it publicly but the truth is that the Australian captain has deep down inside complete contempt for the meaningless travesty that is T20. It was amply manifested in the casual cavalier manner of the Aussies’ inglorious performance in the inaugural T20 World Cup in South Africa. It happens after you have scored more than 12,000 Test and 10,000 ODI runs, you do not quite feel the motivational urge to re-establish your towering credentials in another format, no matter the popular call or money imperatives. Sachin Tendulkar (36) like Ponting is equally foxed at the T20 marketing phenomenon benefiting from the irrational exuberance of TV ratings and excited administrators.

Sachin and Ponting are the world’s best classical Test players and ODI batsmen. Given a choice, Sachin will honestly prefer to be a gleeful spectator along with his family watching the Mumbai Indians in their evening entertainment sweat-out while munching popcorns. But unlike Ponting, he does not have much of a choice. I suspect the deadly trio of BCCI-IPL-Mumbai Indians will not let him go that easily and he is fully aware of that. Because if Sachin quits T20, expect a massive calamitous fall in TRP ratings across networks for a few seasons. Think valuations. This man is not just a cricketing genius, he is an awesome brand power, India’s national treasure.

Ponting and Tendulkar are separated by 20 months in age, 1,428 runs and four centuries in Tests, the only true barometer of international class, of genuine comparison of greats. The only kind of cricket that Sir Don Bradman, Len Hutton and Vivian Richards played. The difference between them based on pro-rata extrapolation is within striking distance for Ponting. In ODIs, Tendulkar is virtually as insurmountable as the Himalayan peaks.

True greatness lies in Test cricket and both Tendulkar and Ponting will give their right arm and elbow to go down as the ultimate greatest. And there are two undisputed measures for that; Test aggregate runs and centuries list; both manifest dominance, longevity and brilliance. Of course, on further investigation one will have to add match-winning knocks as well, but maybe we can discuss that some other time.

Ponting realises perhaps that he may have missed out on the media hype factor to Sachin, but the urge to overtake Tendulkar is high. Ponting can lay claim to having additionally shouldered responsibility for being a fairly successful skipper (barring the dismal Ashes loss 2009) and more importantly led Australia to two successive World Cup victories and even the elusive ICC Champions Trophy. Tendulkar abdicated captaincy, Ponting relished it and even vanquished his foes. But batting records will not capture those impressive leadership feats.

Maybe Ponting’s searing patriotic pride of retaining the masterful title of the modern Bradman on native home turf will give him that motivational prop. For Tendulkar, it will be about preserving that anointment through his customary grit and that insatiable hunger.

They are both undoubtedly great. But who will perhaps end as the greatest-of-all-time of our modern era is still subject to debate and maybe two years.

25
Sep
09

KIRSTEN’S “ TOOL-KIT”

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.

05
Aug
09

Dopes and little chickens

The real reason that the BCCI is taking on the entire universe on the ‘Whereabouts’ issue of WADA ( World Anti-Doping Agency) is because they are dopes of the first order.

Sure, the demands by WADA are indeed exacting but if cricket needs a global endorsement it will, must and should adhere to quality standards. Some of the world’s leading athletic superstars including Olympic champions have come under it’s hawk-eye and have been found guilty of deliberate and willful violation.

Performance-enhancement drugs are a modern-day, big money, high media visibility reality; it is important that the surreptitious practise is checked early.

In fact, rumors have flown fast and furious about how the IPL is a perfect setting for drug abuse; continuous cricket, mindless travel, sponsor commitments and late-night partying they all cause both mental and physical debilitation.

The opposition to WADA’s stringent requirements are understandable but if you want to be a multi-millionaire stud with a Porsche, become a role model and adorn billboards, my friend, play by the rules.

Incidentally, it is such a pathetic sight to see Harbhajan Singh and MS Dhoni land up to gang-up against WADA by becoming the pawns of BCCI, but these little chickens had no time to pick up their Padama Vibhushan from the President of India!

The BCCI has stopped shocking me anymore as they are more dense than the Amazon rain-forests. You can easily fathom that these superannuated moss-gathering ancient minds have no understanding of the ramifications of unethical behavior in a highly commercialised and televised sport. They need to understand that the most important reason behind dope-testing is to create a level-playing field so as to ensure that a champion team or the gold medalist has done so without unfair competitive advantage. To argue against that is not just absurd but grossly disrespectful of both the opponents who subject themselves to the tests and the game itself.

The BCCI has dragged in security, privacy and the Indian Constitution into it. Let me take the Indian Constitution first and tell you that it is the BCCI which denies the Indian cricketers the basic fundamental right of free expression by gag orders, restrictions on writing articles and generally frightening the life out of them. Poor Yousuf Pathan has been virtually forced to withdraw his criticism of BCCI by issuing several denials on his brother Irfan Pathan’s controversial drop from the probables squad for the Champions Trophy.

It is a crying shame that the draconian Big Brother attitude of BCCI has not changed even after numerous hard lessons it can draw some learning from.

The privacy argument is a real joke. The Indian cricketers have become like celluloid stars, they just cannot survive without being amidst camera-lights. Thus, you have the new scenario where now cricketers themselves chase Page 3 hang-outs, reality TV and Bollywood conquests; I guess it enhances that “persona effect” and gives them better market valuation. They, in fact, have virtually sold their privacy to their sports agents for further trading gains.

Sure, security is a genuine concern, but almost all leading international sports stars have similar issues in various games; it is not just an Indian problem. The Sri Lankan cricketers are always vulnerable to terrorist organisations even outside of their own country, as are English and Australian cricketers in sensitive regions simply because of the colour of their skin.

Incidentally, WADA is professional enough to empathise with security and safety-related aspects and has it’s own confidentiality norms and ethical commitments to live up to. It is not a product of a banana-republic for heaven’s sake.

Ideally, the BCCI should sign-up (as have all the other teams) and then collaborate with different boards in cricket and with other sports federations such as FIFA, ATP etc to discuss genuine difficulties and player adjustments and then seek a mature dialogue with WADA. By unilaterally refusing to go with the ICC’s anti-doping agency, the BCCI is making a complete mockery of it’s administrative vision.

It has none perhaps, blinded as it is by its own delusions of invincible power and indestructible might.

For ICC this is the acid test (it has failed all so far being subsumed by India’s treasury operations), but if India refuses to sign-up they should bar India from playing in the Champions Trophy and any and all other international cricket till it follows the rules, without exception.

The arrogance of the BCCI harms India’s reputation in more ways than one.

In the meantime, can someone please provide BCCI with a ” performance-enhancement” drug please? The dopes will be in illustrious company.

18
Jun
09

Silence of the fans

It was so ironic. And maybe a sign of the times. With ill-portends for the future. Sachin Tendulkar, the modern-age Bradman, India’s most lionized sportsman and revered citizen, a global role-model for a million young hopefuls was on the verge of making cricketing history. Not some mundane local ground record, or joining a select league of regional or national heroes . Tendulkar was just a few runs shy of overtaking the great Brian Lara in accumulating the highest aggregate runs ever in Test cricket record. Frankly, this is the ultimate pinnacle. The Himalayan accomplishment. The real milestone, amongst several of Tendulkar’s shimmering gems.

As he glided the ball away, eclipsing the mighty record, his colleagues rose in collective unison and the country took a deep breath of pent-up relief. Tendulkar looked skywards, as is his trademark reaction, remembering his father, thanking God. Sourav Ganguly, his partner in innumerable crimes against opposition, walked up and shook hands. Even the arch foes Aussies clapped for their enduring nemesis, in palpable admiration. But all Mohali could do was raise a cacophony that only a few thousand can muster. In such a great moment, there were only a few sections of the stadium that had some crowd attendance. The rest looked sparse, fans interspersed in small coteries, leaving multi-colored empty bucket -seats in a colourful display.

Take note: India is playing the numero uno team of Test and world cricket, arguably replacing the Ashes rivalry and that great cross-border conflict that sent pulses racing in breathless anticipation once, against Pakistan. Sachin’s historic record, Ganguly’s farewell series, and India looking ahead at an exciting triumph perhaps. It is an intoxicating combination even for an average adrenaline-pumping cricket aficionado. Better still, we are the Mecca , the holy pilgrimage of religious devouts, a madly cricket-obsessed nation. Yet, there are no crowds, even on a Sunday, on a crucial third-day of a promising encounter. Mohali is sending a message; T20 is claiming it’s first real victim, almost on expected lines, Test cricket. Test cricket; the real game, in it’s true classic form. The Wimbledon of cricket. The haloed sacrosanct turf which separates the men from the boys. And by the way, cricket’s sole Grand Slam.

I am sure that even the Aussies would have been stunned by the sounds of empty boards reverberating through quiet environs. Sachin, of course, was truly outstanding, narrowly missing a 40th Test century. 12000 runs and more await Sachin, but I hope he now focuses on Test matches and bids adieu to ODIs. India needs him to scale newer peaks. Sourav Ganguly, well, he did what those who know him are aware what he is capable of. In his farewell series, a vital 47, a numbing 26 not out, and then his 16th Test hundred, Ganguly will walk away into sunset boulevard at Nagpur, with his same confident stride. But some things will never be the same again. As usual, Ganguly quietly crossed the 7000 run-mark in Tests with his customary finesse, becoming the nation’s fourth-highest run getter in the process, joining Rahul Dravid and Sachin, of course, in a famous trio. And they tell me that age still matters. The Fab Four are not the Fab Four for nothing. They are like the Four Seasons hotels; stylish, elegant, reliable, flawless, distinctive, pedigree.

I therefore find it acutely embarrassing to see a certain Mr Lalit Modi, theBCCI functionary pose in an a TV commercial for a telecom company, and cockily proclaim (thank God he cannot deny this as a distorted media misquote) that ” I created IPL. I listen to no one. I am Me” puerile claptrap. You bet you don’t listen to anyone, Modi, in an autocratic set-up where personal whims dictate cricketing fortunes, why should you?

But before Modi begins celebrating the myopic Forbes (American business magazine ) ranking of him as one of the most influential sports figures, he should take a deep pause. Not even Forbes best research dudes, savvy marketers and enviable success experience could tell them about a forthcoming doom called Lehman Brothers. The champagne-uncorking could be pre-mature. If Mohali is any indication, then Modi will not be remembered for revolutionizing the mega-commercialization of global cricket. But for the demise of the game itself.

The silence of the fans can be deafening.

18
Jun
09

The final frontier II

The magic of Mohali will be permanently inscribed in the memory cells of all Indian cricket fans. The once unassailable Oz were packed off so disdainfully, it seemed like the script-writer had a rude sadistic tinge. The Indian victory of a huge 320 runs looked miniscule if that statistic was compared with the immeasurable , inexorable throttle with which India quashed any Aussie hope of a miraculous resurrection. It was a solid exhibition of brutal dominance, the kind of Mike Tyson knock-out punch we have got so conditioned to watching Ricky Ponting’s men do to the others, for heaven knows how long?

Already there is wild speculation as I write this column , that this sub-continental trip could have the ” Lehman Brothers ” effect ( sorry Darryl) on the Aussie team—- of course, the melt-down will be more gradual than grand, but looks inevitable. The Australians are clearly looking exhausted with carrying the onerous burden of the champion tag ; it is not easy being a Roger Federer, where even a slight over-hit is more debated than a blistering ace-serve down the middle. They have accentuated their own miseries by dropping Andrew Symonds for frying fish, which looked to me to be pursuing trivial matters in troubled waters . Especially, when you are not just without Glen McGrath and Shane Warne , but also a wonder called Adam Gilchrist. It has upset their team balance somewhat, because Shane Watson lacks both Symond’s locks , love for Harbhajan Singh and destructiveness. But I think the real story is not that the Australians are weak, but that the Indians have got better.

If you forget that Lankan nightmare of a few months ago , the Aussies and Indians have had some real great tussles in white uniform. Also remember that in the fateful series where the Final Frontier collapsed under Gilchrist’s captaincy, the Aussies had a narrow escape in the Chennai Test , thanks to the rain gods. That match evidently favored India. In Nagpur we had played hosts to magnificent perfection and offered them a green tree-top. In Mumbai, of course, we redefined spin selling . So the truth is that there is nothing unusual about Australians struggling in India ; this is in keeping with historical practise. But the impact factor right now is the collective resurgence of the Indians.

I attribute India’s resounding triumph and ascension on two factors; there is the much-harangued old guard that is playing out of their skin to go out in resplendent glory. And there is that other lot that is wanting to establish itself , unencumbered by past baggage, free from any scar of defeat, having no experience of Australian mauling over years. They do not understand failure. For Ishant Sharma , the Aussie skipper is best bunny, and he does not yet know what it means to lose to Australia with monotonous regularity. Neither does Amit Mishra. Or for that matter MS Dhoni. They care a dry fig. That’s why the stand-in-captain is a fearless, intrepid guy; for him the Australians are a great team , but hey, right now we are even. It’s a new battle-ground. A new day.

Of course, the Australians will fight back. But it is up to India now to attack the garrisons. Climb the bridges. Set up the vanguards. Get ready for assault. The Final Frontier can be re-captured. But the battle for the same may have just begun.

18
Jun
09

What ‘lies’ beneath

Poor Adam Gilchrist! The moment his epochal quote “Sachin Tendulkar is a liar” flashed across TV screens as breaking “Sachin” news, I suspected the eminently respectable former Aussie keeper will find it difficult to sustain the mighty allegation.

Hours later, he was prodigiously apologizing to Sachin, the media, the world, the springy kangaroos, and perhaps even his puppy. Whether Sachin in fact controversially dumped principles for patriotic duty in Harbhajan Singh’s celebrated Monkeygate affair will remain a dark buried secret till someone with sufficient salvo and with adequate courage emerges.

For the moment, Gilchrist’s reputation has taken a heavenly blow, and judging by his extremely frenetic reactions, Gilly has behaved like Chicken Little. But the fact that perhaps an Australian NRI who has purportedly purchased Deccan Chargers for a princely sum, and where Gilly boy needs to preserve his IPL millions besides being the franchise skipper, may have significantly altered his assessments.

Not surprisingly enough, almost all of the ex-retired bunch in Mera Bharat Mahaan have collectively descended on Gilchrist. It requires little intellectual capital to gauge about the timing of the release of the book,; after all, aren’t we ourselves gloating in vicarious delight that the real contest in world cricket is now between the teams from Down Under and Over The Top country? Thus, from the perspective of both the excited publisher and the celebrity author, it makes commercial sense and marketing ingenuity to launch the autobiography ‘True Colours’ when the Test series is on in India, and cameramen and journalists are awaiting some juicy gossip, salacious tales and nuclear emissions.

The fact that Sachin has scored his 12000 odd runs, and that India seems to have fortified itself against a withering Aussie attack ( although we were 2 down for 37 runs in Kotla when I started penning this piece), will only add further chilly peppers to the roasted tomato soup that is the current drama all about.

What I have never been able to figure out though is this frenzied obsession that we have in Indian cricket about the apparent invincibility , and the beyond- reproach- and -critical- scrutiny unwritten code that is adhered to about Sachin Tendulkar. The fact that he is a great cricketer, outstanding achiever and a revered national icon is undoubtedly true. And fully deserved.

But imagine the untold surgery and immense analysis that would have been let unfettered if lesser mortals like Rahul Dravid, Sourav Ganguly et al had been involved with similar allegations?

I dare say it would not have been so easily dismissed as a sales ploy or a publicity stunt, as it has been so cursorily done this time around.

After all, Adam Gilchrist is no small-time cipher himself , is he? In fact, I rate him as the single man who revolutionized attacking cricket in Tests, and being the most destructive batsman in the history of the game. Someone who could singularly win matches, destroy opposition from seemingly hopeless positions of despair.

Honestly, Sachin does not even bear comparison to Gilchrist in match-winning feats; just check the statistics and match outcomes. At least his numbers don’t lie. Gilchrist is miles ahead.

In India, we are just too obsessed with raising our heroes on to an unnecessarily dizzying pedestal. No one says or can say that Gilchrist is right about Sachin, till factual evidence is clearly established. Or some others dare to challenge the flimsy trial proceedings that unfolded in a grotesque affair in Australia earlier this year.

But let us cut out the sanctimonious crap. Gilchrist’s accusations, even if taken out of context, cannot be treated by us holier than thou brigade as blasphemous.

Let me pose the question back; what if Adam Gilchrist is speaking the truth, despite his subsequent back-track on account of squashing a brewing diplomatic row?

We are all human. Everyone can make a mistake. Say a lie. A white lie, maybe. Even Sachin Tendulkar.




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Sanjay Jha on Twitter

  • I guess it is a business deal, promote the book and get the author to do a chat on the site. And I fought against the fraud who sells crap. 1 hour ago
  • A tragedy that my co- owners of CricketNext.com have sold their soul and carried a Harper Collins press release on Fake IPL Players book.. 1 hour ago
  • The whole old cricketnext.com team hangs it's head in shame and repugnance. In the world of IPL, as long as it sells, it is ok. 5 hours ago
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  • My co-owners with majority control are promoting the sensationalistic behind the room gossip-monger on our Home Page. 5 hours ago

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