Chandan Posted December 27, 2012 Posted December 27, 2012 Thanks Chandan Just can't find Brijnath, Rahul Bhattacharya, Sambit Bal and Harsha's tributes. Can you help find them? In the meanwhile:
Sachinism Posted December 27, 2012 Posted December 27, 2012 To be honest, I don't even know if these guys have written tributes. Dileep shared a Brijnath article, though I'm pretty sure it was an old one.
Chandan Posted December 27, 2012 Posted December 27, 2012 LINK Chetan Narula My Sachin Tendulkar Story Posted on Dec 27, 2012 The year was 1992. A young boy and his even younger brother were playing in their room while parents left for office. The maid, a cricket fanatic, promptly switched on the television. India were playing Pakistan in an ODI World Cup. Hearing her cheers, the boy peeped across and saw an infantile batsman at work. The seven-year-old never went back to play with his brother, spending the day watching his first ever cricket match. That World Cup inspired a scrapbook collection. It was a fad among his schoolmates. How could he not have one? And a cricket bat with the 'Power' logo - that was a must-buy. But this was just the beginning of a fascination. On this particular November night, that batsman showed he could bowl as well. The kid was at a wedding function for his parents had forced him along. They couldn't stop him from standing at the local kirana store from across the hall, from watching that last over. Love seldom happens at age nine. Even so he wasn't the only one afflicted. The whole country went bonkers, he realised much later. The year was 1993. His father was strict. 'No cable TV until you are in eleventh standard', he decreed. The boy couldn't do anything, but follow commentary on All India Radio and read in newspapers. The few matches on Doordarshan were a boon, for he could watch him bat in all the possible glory. He had started opening now, was all the kid understood. Then, the year was 1996. Cricket came to town, in all its pomp and splendour, and no parent could enforce boundaries anymore. Kenya and Zimbabwe were shown their place. Australia were smacked, Sri Lanka too. But these two teams couldn't be beaten, especially the latter, especially that night in Kolkata. The batsman was still quite young in comparison to his peers. Yet he carried the hopes of a billion people, the kid was told by his cricket-mad uncle. Why alone? He couldn't answer that question, no one could. The year was 1998. Australia were a glutton for punishment and Doordarshan started a new channel to showcase their misery, DD Sports. They were thumped in every nook and corner of the country. Their next beating happened in Sharjah. His schoolmates yelled out before morning prayers. 'They are calling it the Desert Storm', said one, imitating his shots, trying to. 'He said Australia could lose in the final, that too on his birthday', said another, also trying to imitate his shots. The teenager, meanwhile, cursed his ill-luck. He pestered his parents to take him to grandma's place, for he could watch the final on cable TV there. Then, on the way, he prayed for an encore. Lightning did strike twice. Another World Cup came around and an India Today Special was bought. In it, a senior journalist named Peter Roebuck explained that particular batsman's greatest shot yet. A straight elevated drive down the ground for six - a first lesson in cricket nuance. There were other things to bother about though. His father passed away and he didn't play against Zimbabwe, who won. He returned to play against Kenya, and conjured up a century batting at number four. The gaze at the sky was long and hard, it pierced hearts, old and young. Even so the teenager, who played gully cricket only with an MRF-stickered bat, thought he needs to open the batting against Australia in the Super Six stage. His father predicted a cheap dismissal and a loss for India. It came true - a four-ball duck to Glenn McGrath. Oh well! The remote was flung in anger and it broke. The TV escaped the impact. The boy didn't escape his father's thumping. The year was 1999. Diwali that year was sweet though. The TV was in his parents' room and they locked it to make the brothers study whilst they were away, or atleast hoped to. That particular day, India were playing New Zealand in an ODI in Hyderabad. As his mother got ready, an innocent crime was committed. The younger one was asked to keep watch, while he stole the duplicate keys. They were caught in the evening, though it was worth it. He made 186 that day, not out! The years passed. Boards, entrance exams and college life came up. Never mind that it was miles away from home, travelling from college to home on weekends to watch cricket was the norm. There was a cable connection at home, none at college. Another World Cup meant attendance went for a toss. The reward was wholesome. He played the greatest ODI innings ever. He hit the greatest six, and, the greatest cover drive punch and follow-through ever in the history of limited-overs cricket. Pakistan lost, again. Stockpiles of firecrackers vanished in seconds that night. Then, in his last teen year, he ran like a kid possessed, from door to door, asking if anyone had any more crackers stashed up. The year was 2003. Life brought up more routine, college, exams, family drama, MBA. In a parallel world, routine brought runs, statistics and records, almost all of them. It also brought debate. He is selfish, not a match-winner. There were arguments, with his uncle over dinner, with friends in the canteen and with strangers on internet forums. An engineer, he learned everything about tennis elbow. A glorious hundred in Rawalpindi went waste. That glorious catch at the boundary in Lahore did not. A World Cup dream was shattered. Tears were shed, both in an obscure hostel in Pune and the dressing room in Port-of-Spain. The year was 2007. Work beckoned. It meant a new life as an adult. It also meant a mature batsman stepped to resurrect himself on the field, amid comparisons with elephants in small silent dressing rooms. CB Series flashed past, 163* in Christchurch and 175 in Hyderabad came about. It pointed to something gargantuan. Gwalior, a first ODI double hundred. The year was 2010. Firecrackers were pass«±. Half a bottle of Absolut vodka was toasted to God that night. All these imprints etched by a bat! Yet, the search for that one moment to cherish was still on. 'I was there', that moment. It came. They came, in fact. The year was 2011. The young adult was there when the 48th hundred came up at Chinnaswamy. He was there at Nagpur, when a rousing delivery from Dale Steyn was dispatched to square leg for six, en-route to the 49th. He was there at Mohali when Pakistan lost again. He was there at Mumbai when they carried him on their shoulders. He was there when his name was chanted outside the Wankhede, all over Marine Drive. He chanted too, arm-in-arm with complete strangers, till 6am. The year is 2012. 100th hundred, yet debate simmers still, with uncles, friends and strangers. Then it stops, on a cold Sunday morning. 'No more in Blue', he says. The heart skips a beat, brain goes numb. Voice chokes. 'He plays Tests still', says the mind, almost an after-thought. If only to make the world of a twenty-eight-year-old carry on. This is my story. Perhaps this is your story too. It was written by Sachin Tendulkar.
Chandan Posted December 27, 2012 Posted December 27, 2012 LINK Tendulkar's ODI timeline 23 unforgettable years Wisden India staff · Bangalore · Dec 23, 2012 · Sachin Tendulkar holds the record for the most Man of the Match and Man of the Series awards. December 1989: Makes his One-Day International debut against Pakistan in Gujranwala and fails to trouble the scorers. November 1993: With South Africa needing six runs to win off the last over of their Hero Cup semifinal, he bowls a sensational over, conceding just three and bowling India to victory. March 1994: Opens in an ODI for the first time against New Zealand in Auckland. Goes on to make 82 off 49 balls. September 1994: Scores his first ODI century (110) against Australia in Colombo. February-March 1996: Becomes the first batsman in the history of World Cup cricket to score more than 500 runs in the competition. Finishes with an aggregate of 523 runs at 87.16, including two centuries and three half-centuries. April 1996: Scores 118 against Pakistan and puts on 231 for the second wicket with Navjot Singh Sidhu in Sharjah as India score more than 300 in an innings for the first time in ODI cricket. August 1996: Scores 110 in his first match as India's ODI captain, against Sri Lanka in Colombo. February 1997: Hits 97-ball 104 against Zimbabwe in Benoni to help India chase down 241 within 40 overs and qualify for the final of the tri-series. January 1998: Opening the innings after losing the national captaincy to Mohammad Azharuddin, hits a 26-ball 41 as India chase down 314 against Pakistan in the final of the Independence Cup in Dhaka. It was then the highest run-chase in the history of ODI cricket. April 1998: Scores back-to-back hundreds against Australia at Sharjah to first help India qualify for the final, and eventually win the Coca-Cola cup. April 1998: Picks up 5 for 32, his best bowling returns, against Australia in Kochi to give India a 41-run win. May 1999: After his father expires, misses a game in the World Cup in England. Comes back to score an unbeaten 140 against Kenya. In 1998, Tendulkar scored back-to-back hundreds against Australia at Sharjah, in what was since eulogised as the Desert Storm knocks. November 1999: Scores an unbeaten 186 against New Zealand in Hyderabad. It was to be his highest ODI score till February 2010. Puts on 331 for the second wicket with Rahul Dravid, which remains to be the highest partnership for any wicket in ODI cricket. March 2001: Becomes the first player to score 10,000 runs in ODI cricket during the course of 139 against Australia in Indore. Feb-March 2003: By scoring 673 runs at 61.18 in the World Cup, he takes India to the final. His 98 against Pakistan in Centurion is hailed as one of the best knocks in World Cup history. Though Australia win the cup, Tendulkar is named man of the series. March 2005: Undergoes surgery for tennis elbow and subsequently misses triangular series in Sri Lanka, a tour of Zimbabwe and the Super Series in Australia. October 2005: Scores 93 against Sri Lanka on his comeback to international cricket. March 2006: Undergoes another surgery in England and misses the ODIs against England and the tour of West Indies. September 2006: Scores 141 against West Indies in Kula Lumpur in the DLF Cup on his comeback. May 2007: Rested for the first time in his career, for the three-ODI series against Bangladesh. March 2008: Scores his first ODI century in Australia in the first of the CB series finals, and plays an important role in India winning a title Down Under for the first time since 1985. November 2009: Crosses 17,000 ODI runs during his 141-ball 175 against Australia in Hyderabad. India fall short by three runs in their chase of 351 runs. February 2010: Scores 200 not out (147 balls) against South Africa in Gwalior. Becomes the first batsman in the history of ODI cricket to score a double century. February 2011: In the match against Bangladesh, becomes the second cricketer after Javed Miandad to play in six World Cups. February-April, 2011: With 482 runs at an average of 53.55, plays an important role in India winning the World Cup after 28 years. Becomes the first batsman to score 2000 runs in World Cup cricket. March 2012: Scores his 100th international century, when he hits 114 against Bangladesh in Mirpur in the Asia Cup. December 2012: Announces his retirement from ODI cricket. Finishes his career with a world record of 463 matches, 18,426 runs, 49 hundreds and 96 fifties. He also picked up 154 wickets and took 140 catches. He finishes his ODI career with the record for most Man of the Match awards (62) and Man of the Series awards (15).
Chandan Posted December 27, 2012 Posted December 27, 2012 LINK The Moment We’re Never Ready For Anjali Doshi · Dec 25, 2012 · Tendulkar will remain the only cricketer that made a billion switch off their television sets once he was out. There are some stories that catch newsrooms across the country completely off guard. Like 26/11 or the SEAL team six’s raid on Osama Bin Laden. The kind of stories that blindside you on some idle Tuesday. Then, there are the stories that news desks have had months, sometimes years, to plan for. You know they’re inevitable. So you do the best you can to prepare for them. You have intermittent meetings to discuss how the event will be covered. How the logistics and resources will be best utilised. What the packages, the highlights, the pictures and the reactions will be. Yet, when that moment arrives, no matter how much and how often you have deliberated over it, it still takes you completely by surprise. And so it was with Sachin Tendulkar’s retirement from one-day cricket. Everybody knew it was going to happen. But when the BCCI’s innocuously titled email “Media Release” appeared in the in-boxes of cricket reporters across the world at 11.20 am IST on Sunday morning, it sent many newsrooms across the country into a flap. Packages were made, tributes written, career highlights picked out, defining innings culled, the best quotes gleaned. Ready four years ago and frequently updated since. But when the moment was upon us, nobody was ready to say goodbye. There was every indication that Tendulkar’s future, especially in one-dayers, was uncertain. There was some speculation too about how the selectors were seriously considering dropping him for the upcoming series against Pakistan. But nobody expected it to unfold in this anti-climactic fashion, via a press release. And then, the realisation that without knowing it at the time, we had watched Tendulkar’s last one-day innings nine months ago, when he made that ravaging 52 off 48 against Pakistan in the Asia Cup. Right after his hundredth hundred. How could we possibly know? He didn’t know himself. Tendulkar didn’t get the fairy-tale end he wished for. That all of us wished for. For him and ourselves. Maybe, he was hoping to play one last one-day series against Pakistan at home before bidding the one-day format goodbye. Maybe, he was left with no choice because the selectors made it clear he would be dropped. Maybe, it was his conversation with Sandeep Patil, the selection committee chairman, and N Srinivasan, the BCCI president, that led to the hastily drafted media release before another press release on the T20 and ODI teams for the Pakistan series followed. Maybe, his best chance at a dream one-day farewell was April 2, 2011 but he was too in love to let it go. That he didn’t get the fairy-tale ending to his one-day story just makes Tendulkar more real. Maybe, he is just as human as we are, after all. Even though we have spent the better part of a quarter of a century believing he is God. The recent clamour and chorus among fans and experts asking “When?” and saying “About time” notwithstanding, the sentiment that followed his announcement was hardly one of relief. Or detachment. After all, how do you say goodbye to someone you have shared such a deep emotional connection with for over 20 years? Most friendships and many marriages don’t last that long. How do you come to grips with losing something you can’t replace? He is everything we want to be: dedicated, hardworking, successful, famous, humble, revered. For 23 years, everything he did was a measure of our self-worth. If he failed, we failed. If he succeeded, we were ok. He was ours to knock down, blame, curse, applaud, gasp at, look up to, cherish, be frustrated with, admire. Tendulkar will remain the only cricketer that made a billion switch off their television sets once he was out. Never before. Never again. Each one of us, even those who may never have met him, has a collection of very personal Sachin memories connected to more than just the desert storm, the 200, the 175 or the World Cups. Mine date back to the time I made a scrapbook on him as an 11-year-old with newspaper clippings and magazine photos. A few years later, I plastered posters of him on the walls of my bedroom. And when the time came to go away to university at 20, I took those posters with me and put them up in my dorm room in Toronto. I needed Sachin to make me feel at home, 8,000 miles away from home. From cricket fan to cricket reporter to cricket writer, it’s been quite a journey. Reporting was tough because you try to be as objective as possible. You want to detach yourself from Tendulkar’s failures and milestones. And recalibrating this equation was not easy. I had to now acquaint myself with him as a professional. But he never disappointed here either. The more I interacted with him, the more my admiration grew for his work ethic, his focus, his humility and most of all his sense of commitment, all of which I witnessed first-hand on several occasions. Tendulkar didn’t get the fairy-tale end he wished for. During the 2007-08 tour of Australia, my first overseas tour as a television reporter, I gingerly approached Tendulkar after a net session in Adelaide to ask if he would consider doing an interview. He said he would think about my request after the series. When India won the CB series in Brisbane, I ran up to a champagne-soaked Tendulkar to remind him of our conversation. All he said was, “Tomorrow in Melbourne.” I had to cancel my bookings and re-route my flight. I had no time or venue for the interview. And I had no guarantee. But I had to take the chance. When I reached the executive lounge at the Tullamarine Airport, he kept his word. As he always has. The email in my inbox on Sunday felt like a cruel joke. In one fell swoop, a vital chunk of my youth just disappeared. Tendulkar’s goodbye is a grim reminder to us of our own mortality. A reminder that there is very little time left to make the most of him. And ourselves. Are we ever prepared for the end? The end of all our elaborate plans. Of everything that stands. The end that has just begun.
Chandan Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 LINK Sach Sometime in the early 90s trump cards were in vogue. Like most people who grew up in the 90s, I have wasted months on that stupid game. The more popular variety was the WWF one; there was also a less popular but a far more entertaining one on cricket too. You get Desmond Haynes in your turn and you merely snatch the card from your opponent he was the ultimate trump card with the most matches, runs, hundreds, and fifties in ODI cricket. If you get Viv, your only fear is if your opponent holds the Haynes card in that turn. Perhaps the worst card to have in the game was that of Sachin. Very few matches, fewer fifties, and no hundreds. Yet, the joy of holding the Sachin card was unmatched. While Sachin was taking giant leaps in the world of test cricket, he hardly set the world on fire in ODIs in his first five years. There were cameos of all kind mind blasting, elegant, brutal, and responsible - but the big score was always eluding him. There were all sorts of theories on his inability to score hundreds in ODIs then. Sunny even suggested that he should stay away from ODI cricket and play only tests. When the first hundred eventually came, he didn't quite break open the glass ceiling as much as he opened the floodgates. He nearly institutionalized the art of scoring a century in ODIs. While 90s witnessed a boom in ODIs, more matches were played on truer and flatter wickets the world over, and perhaps the decade even brought in an avalanche of great ODI batsmen. But without Sachin's constantly rising benchmark, it's hard to imagine we would have seen as many ODI hundreds post '94 as we have. ****** The quote on statistics being like mini skirts is often invoked in the context of cricketers whose record don't quite justify their impact on the game, but to me it's most appropriate for Sachin. His ODI numbers are so humongous, so colossal, so obscene that it's easy to get lost in making sense of them and lose out on the essence of Sachin. The records stand as a testimony to the impact of his methods, but that's only the byproduct the real deal was his method. How else do you explain the significance of 27th March 1994 to so many Indians, and cricket fans at large? It was the second match of a bilateral series. India dismissed New Zealand for 142 and had the luxury of 50 overs to get there. The regular opener was unfit, which according to a prominent cricket journalist had something to do with a visit to a night club on the eve of the match. Sachin took his place at the top of the order in more ways than one - and scored 82 of the most thrilling runs in this format of the game ever. He didn't help India win a critical match, nor was it a challenging chase. There was very little context to the game except India coming back to square the series. Yet. That is the essence of Sachin. ****** Who will write a biography of Sir Donald Bradman, must be able to write a history of Australia in the same period wrote CLR James in Beyond a Boundary. Along similar lines, I can add that for a generation of Indians their respective autobiographies will be hollow without Sachin. Sidvee has compiled a fine list of the delightful micro moments of Sachin's career here, and writes for so many of us, in a way that none of us could, on growing up with Sachin here. There is very little to add to what he's already covered. If a large part of our formative years was spent in watching Sachin bat, a larger part was spent on anticipating a Sachin innings. The night before a Sachin innings is a conglomeration of all possible human emotions, yet the ecstasy of the impending masterpiece rose above everything else. If he scored a hundred every eighth match since scoring his first one, it didn't stop us from dreaming one every match. For every hundred there are at least seven shattered dreams, but it didn't stop us from losing our sleep, from setting ourselves up for prime disappointment, from going to our annual exam in school groggy-eyed, from going to a critical day in office deprived of sleep and with very little motivation to work. We ran the risk of losing out on academics, a possible promotion at work, sometimes the obsession even came in the way of relationships, but he made it all worthwhile. Looking back at it now, except for the anticipation of a Sachin special, nothing has remained constant. If ecstasy overpowered all other emotions on the eve of the match, reality doesn't always comply. For someone who's played 463 matches and been dismissed in most of them, a Sachin dismissal is as common a sight as any in cricket. Yet, it always comes as a shock. He can get out for a duck against Namibia, or after a 175 against Australia, but the reaction to his dismissal is always intense, as if it's a violation of the first principles of cricket. The scar a Sachin dimissal leaves behind makes it foolhardy to so emotionally invest in his batting again, but we did it. For 23 years and counting. ****** In a career of such sustained excellence, '98 stands well and truly above the rest of the years. He was walking on water. He decimated Warnie and pulverised all comers. The expectations had become so absurd and almost inhuman that he could only have disappointed us. At the end of a long and punishing home season, Sachin went to Sharjah as a hero and came back as God. Fleming drifts down on the pads, Sachin plays his precise trademark flick to fine leg for a two to qualify for the final. A nation rejoices, commentators going bonkers, and journalists running out of adjectives to fill their match reports. That's when he slapped us for underestimating him. Little did we know that when we were looking at 24 from 30 balls, he was thinking of 63 from 30. First ball after qualifying, Sachin danced down the wicket to play the most audacious inside out cover drive off Fleming. Tony Greig is screaming on commentary as if he'd just understood the climax of The Prestige. Momentarily, he even threatened to sprint on water. The singular stroke that separated him from the mortal world. ****** It was the first one dayer of the tri-series in South Africa in October '01. Sachin was coming back from a foot injury, and was struggling against Pollock and Nel, while Ganguly at the other end was in the form of his life. I have seen batsmen scratching their way out of form with a big innings in tests, like Dravid in Perth '08 and Sachin in Sydney '04. But I have never seen a batsman, leave alone one of Sachin's pedigree, hang around for so long without being able to play with any sort of fluency in ODI cricket. This is also true of Sachin's career at large. No matter how rotten his luck has been, or how terribly he may have been out of form, I have never seen him throw his bat around in the hope of rediscovering his touch. The diligence with which he works his way back to form has been as compelling as watching him walk on water. While Sachin is always celebrated for the mastery of his craft, what is often underappreciated is that he's the game's most humble student too. 101 of 129 balls against Pollock, Nel, Ntini, Kallis, Klusener and Kemp when he was at his scratchiest. Master and Student.
Chandan Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 No room for sentiments MAKARAND WAINGANKAR The Hindu Tendulkar ruled an era, but it's time for him to make way for a youngster in the Test team, writes Makarand Waingankar. Cricket in India is an industry which brews money. Thanks to the entry of Sachin Tendulkar two decades ago, he has given to the game what no one else has; not only to fans but to the kitty of the Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI). For more than two decades, he helped BCCI's kitty grow by leaps and bounds. That Tendulkar has done a lot for the game is accepted. But is this contribution to be repaid in terms of treating him as an exception is the question. He entertained the cricket lovers all over the world and the queue of the sponsors was bigger than ever anywhere in the world when he was around. His mere presence attracted crowds and sponsors in large numbers. We look at cricketers wealth but overlook the hands of the BCCI behind it. Indian cricket management is run by creating infrastructure for all affiliated units, providing them subsidies worth croresevery year for running the game. More than 500 matches are conducted by the BCCI. The development centre like the National Cricket Academy was required. India 'Ã' tours needed funds. For this the BCCI had to market the game aggressively. They were looking for a product and Jagmohan Dalmiya-I. S. Bindra very shrewdly used Tendulkar as a brand. The debate It was when he found scoring runs difficult for more than a year back, the debate of his retirement was discussed every day. His retirement from ODIs makes everyone wonder if he willingly quit or was asked to opt for an honourable exit. We will never know the truth because the BCCI doesn't believe in being transparent. I have watched a 12-year-old Tendulkar. He scored 2,400 runs in a season. Nothing has changed even now and nothing will change even after 40. The boyish grin, the prankster in him, the seriousness in cricket and most importantly the work ethics remain the same. The million dollar question is what would he do for the rest of his life without the game that he loves. For someone who has been hitting bowlers all over the park since he was a kid, it's a tough decision to quit the game. The question that baffles the connoisseurs of the game who have known and watched him is why did he carry on after the World Cup victory? The cricketing world watched him being carried on the shoulders by his team-mates after the World Cup win. What else did he need to be on the top of the world? When he continued playing even after his 100th international ton, the diehard fans reiterated what Vijay Merchant had always said in the 60s 'retire when people ask why and not why not'. There are dozens of former reputed international cricketers residing in Mumbai. They feel Tendulkar got carried away with the euphoria without realising that this game has seen the unceremonious dropping and exit of many top cricketers. He was a great timer of the ball but he ought to have timed his retirement after the World Cup. The question is why has he quit only the ODI and not the Tests? Is he still available for the Tests? He has taken one step of realisation by quitting ODIs. But the main step is yet to be taken. Only once he completely retires can Indian cricket move on. It's not going to be easy for the newcomer to bat at No. 4. He will need time to settle down. As Gursharan Singh of Delhi realised replacing G. R. Vishwanath in 1983 and Vengsarkar in 1990, it wasn't an easy task. Tendulkar ruled an era, but it's time for him to make way for a youngster in the Test team. The transition period too has some methods and we need to adopt those methods without getting sentimental.
Chandan Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 LINK Tendulkar..... DECEMBER 27, 2012 I was reading Issue Zero of 'The Blizzard' the other day. With its eclectic mix of articles, you were never short from reading about some of the most important football pieces. I chanced upon a piece written by Scott Murray of the Guardian. It was about the cultural significance of Roy of the Rovers and the subsequent destruction of English Football that Roy Race had caused. Who exactly was Roy of the Rovers? Tiger magazine had created a character named Roy Race who went on to sign for Melchester Rovers in September, 1954. But Roy wasn't like any ordinary footballer of course him being a cartoon character, it was important for the people to separate the fictional Roy from the real English players who took to the field. Roy had debuted on the magazine's pages just after some of the worst humiliations the England football team received there have been a fair few of them either side of the annus mirabilis of 1966. They famously lost to a bunch of carpenters, postmen, accountants and a drivers (the people who represented the USA national team in the 1950 World Cup) three years before being beaten by the legendary Hungarian side at Wembley. Now, being beaten by Puskas, Kocsis et. al is not a disgrace but the media went to town with it (the scoreline was 6-3). The same side then handed out a defeat by an even bigger margin (7-1) in Budapest a year later. Then Roy Race was signed for Melchester Rovers. Murray, in the Blizzard, describes Race's impact on the kids of England:- While little schemers from Italy dreamt of becoming fantasistas, conducting their team-mates to victory from the centre of the park, while South American youths honed their skills and picked up a few street-smarts in the dusty favelas, hoping to put it all together in a gambeta; thanks to Roy Race, English children spent their formative years sat on their arses being taught a very strange lesson: it doesn't really matter what you do for 89 minutes, because a superhero will turn up eventually, welt the ball into the net, and you can all go home with your cups and medals. While the creator of the character also had Race kidnapped in a vast number of sub-plots, Race was essentially a make believe super hero scoring goal after goal after goal on a football pitch. ************** Reading this, I thought of all the Roy of the Rovers figures actively present in the Indian mainstream make believe or real. Apart from Shaktimaan (the father of all make believe characters, it'r still a mystery how he managed to sell his story to many people. There were even a few people who plummeted to their deaths from roof tops convinced that Shaktimaan would save them in mid air) and, at a stretch, the good side of Super Human Samurai, I can't think of any other make believe figure who actively played a role in shaping the Indian psyche. But in a parallel world, just how many people believed in the real world of Sachin Tendulkar? I think it'sa massive cliche to state this but I will go ahead and say this: Tendulkar inspired an entire generation in two separate but equally compelling ways. The current crop of the Indian youngsters coming through Virat Kohli, Ajinkya Rahane, Unmukt Chand, Umesh Yadav and so on were all inspired by Tendulkar. Most of the fans between the ages of 20 and 30, the ones who were old enough to play with cassettes before playing songs on a discman in class XII, would have been taken into this game because of Tendulkar. But this is were the differences between Roy Race and Sachin Tendulkar emerge. While Race was make believe, Tendulkar was the super man who made Indian kids of the 1990s believe in cricket. The ones who needed to mature and read about Sunil Gavaskar to believe in his legacy, the ones who needed more than a Kapil Dev to believe in cricket, the ones who knew of Joel Garner, Colin Croft, Michael Holding and Andy Roberts but that was only because all your dads had secretly listened to commentators who would describe them on the radio, the ones who knew what Imran Khan did in the 1992 World Cup but could not accept him for various reasons, the ones who knew of Vivian Richards but preferred to have an Indian in his place, the ones who knew of Brian Lara but saw somebody else whenever Lara was batting and the ones who knew of Sir Donald Bradman but that was only because he watched a player who reminded him of himself. Till then, Bradman was a mythical figure who was only known as the man who retired with an average of 99.94. That player in question? Sachin Tendulkar. It was simple to believe and invest your time in the Tendulkar story. One look at him and you wanted to be him. He was your alter ego. He was your Mirror of Erised (if you could grant me one Harry Potter reference). When he was bowling the last over of the Hero Cup semi-finals you wanted him to win the game for India. And he did win the game for India. You smiled along with him. His cherubic face, his curly hair and his childlike voice were easy to believe in. You were pumped up on 18th February, 1996. Your folks as well as the second last page of The Hindu had been reminding you for the last few months that it was 13 years since India last won the World Cup. It was the first time you were watching a World Cup on TV; without wetting your nappies and/or sucking on your thumbs anyway. Tendulkar decides to make it a memorable experience by hitting an unbeaten century. Never mind it came against Kenya: you dint know what a minnow was back then. You gaped in astonishment when the catharsis of the Kolkata crowd unraveled in a few overs after the Tendulkar dismissal in the semifinals. Especially when you had learnt that Sri Lanka had been reduced to 1/2 some six hours back. But you had come to know of disappointments by then. Belting Chaminda Vaas and Ravindra Pushpakumara to all parts of the ground enroute a destructive 100, you had been assured that India (and Sachin) would win the game. But Little Kalu and Sanath Jayasuriya ensured they pissed on your chips. The myth was formed: if he scored a century, India lost. Australia was seen as the last frontier. It was the land of Don Bradman. The likes of Shane Warne and Steve Waugh called it their home. Hence it was doubly satisfying to watch Tendulkar *single-handedly* destroy them at Sharjah. His birthday became your national holiday. Australia was conquered; never mind they were conquered in Sharjah. You were taken aback by shock when Harsha Bhogle announced the demise of Sachin Tendulkar (if you do recollect, he paused for a few moments immediately after saying Tendulkar) before continuing to say 's father in the 1999 World Cup. You built a temple, a virtual temple, for him when you saw him, just days after seeing his prone father, hitting out against Kenya. He was the man who put team (since then it has been revealed that his mother played a big part in sending him back to the team) even before a grieving family. He had long stopped becoming just another cricketer. He was now your hero. You now weren't just satisfied with sitting in your hall to watch him bat. You wanted to pad up and mimic his straight drive and square cut. Now, the paper wasn't just the last three pages of The Hindu. The classifieds section of the main paper was also scoured to look for summer cricket coaching centres. You were enthralled to be admitted to the Tendulkar's cricket centre. The school playground became your second home. You didn't care about Mathematics and Biology in the school classroom but you damn well convinced your cricket coach to let you open for the school team. Sportstar after Sportstar was bought in the hope that they might have put Sachin Tendulkar as their star poster? You wanted the team management to stop messing around Tendulkar's batting position. He was meant to open the batting and that's the way it should be, you told yourself. The match-fixing scandal broke your faith in the game for the first time but Tendulkar was always going to be there in your life; the one constant as you changed cities and schools. Obtuse remarks about Tendulkar from passers-by were dealt with acute reactions. When your mother locked you up in a room to study for your board exams, your dad would release the lock or urge you to see through the keyhole. (A huge part of the Tendulkar legend was everybody believed in him. Your parents, your grandparents, your friends and foes and your postman and milkman). South Africa always reminded you of Durban and the sight of static timber being sent on a sleepwalking mission before lying spreadeagled near the 'keeper. Alan Donald was the uber cool, white cream applying South African who always got Tendulkar out. While Tendulkar did not manage to exact revenge against him, he reaffirmed his legend status in the 2003 WC. You saw in The Hindu a picture of Andrew Caddick, with a Python wrapped around his neck, saying bad things about Tendulkar about how he was a normal bat and that his aura was false. Then you saw this. You were peaceful again. Because, admit it, you had felt slighted by Caddick's comments. Never mind he failed in the finals: the legend that Tendulkar built over a decade wasn't about to come crashing down because of one afternoon in 2003 or over a two week period in 2007. There were other things that you did when ailments stopped Tendulkar from being Tendulkar-ish. You learnt more about back spasms, tennis elbows and big toes and toyed with the idea of calling up Anant Joshi with death threats if he messed up with any of Tendulkar's bones. While the World Cup victory in 2011 helped him to achieve his dream, you didn't really need him to the win the World Cup. He was the World Cup as far as you were concerned.
Stan AF Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 Great work and good going Ms. Chandan. Sorry edited it. Thanks ganeshran.
Chandan Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 LINK Exclusive: VVS Laxman reminisces Sachin Tendulkar's glorious ODI career Navneet Mundhra | Cricketnext.com | Updated Dec 25, 2012 Accolades have been pouring in for Sachin Tendulkar who called time on his ODI career on Sunday from all quarters, but who other than VVS Laxman, who played with him for so long, would describe the maestro better. The classical batsman shares some of his memories of Tendulkar with Cricketnext. The game changer: Sachin Tendulkar redefined and rewrote the role of an opener in the ODIs. His rollicking 82 off 49 against New Zealand at Auckland in 1994 was a rite of passage not only in his career, but also in the history of limited-overs cricket. It was the first time he opened the innings and since then there was no looking back. He mixed aggression with sublime skills and emerged as the most successful batsman in the ODI format. A man of colossal statistics: A look at Sachin's statistics in both formats boggles your mind. Only he could have managed to achieve what he has. An average of 45 in 463 ODIs at a strike-rate of 86 with 49 hundreds and 96 half-centuries is simply incredible. He holds the record for most matches, most centuries, half-centuries, Man-of-the-Match awards, and what not. These are the testament of his longevity, consistency and unmatched genius. He performed against every opposition, and in all conditions and circumstances. He's streets ahead of his contemporaries. Big-match player: Tendulkar has always been a big match player. His ability to absorb pressure under adverse situations sets him apart. He won many important matches and series for India almost single-handedly. He always performed brilliantly in the World Cup. He was the highest run-scorer in 1996 and 2003 World Cup and was instrumental in India's historic triumphant in the World Cup 2011. His dazzling innings against Australia in Sharjah 1998 are well-documented. Amazing adaptability: Sachin Tendulkar adapted himself masterfully in Test matches and ODIs. His numbers and records in both the formats are almost identical. I attribute this to his preparation before the matches. His preparation - both technical and mental - for Tests and ODIs was different. It required a lot of hard work and discipline on his part but he ensured that on ground the transition looked smooth and seamless. His best innings: This is the most difficult part as he has played copious match-winning and spectacular innings in his luminous ODI career. The innings which stand out instantly in my memory are his 82 against New Zealand in 1994, his twin centuries (143 and 134) against Australia at Sharjah in 1998, his sumptuous 98 against Pakistan at Centurion in 2003 World Cup and his 85 in the World Cup 2011 semi-final against Pakistan. I was at the other end when he thumped 143 against Australia at Sharjah. We were chasing a daunting target to qualify for the final and there was a massive sandstorm. But Sachin weathered the storm with aplomb and unleashed the most destructive ODI innings I have ever seen. In the final, he cracked another eximious century as we beat Australia to lift the trophy.
ganeshran Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 Great work and good going Ms. Chandan. FTFY
Chandan Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 LINK The Tendulkar habit More than any other player, Sachin Tendulkar defined ODI cricket. To start with, he played in over half of all India's games Harsha Bhogle December 28, 2012 Remember Nairobi 2000? Tendulkar during his brutal assault on Glenn McGrath Dear Sachin, I guess this means the countdown has begun. It couldn't have been easy for you since cricket has been your life, your solitary love outside of family. I know there are cars and music and seafood, and, as I recently realised, the odd glass of wine, but a bat was what you were meant to hold, and it is with one that you mesmerised a nation and a sport. I wondered if you could have given up Test cricket and stayed on in one-day internationals - until you told me it takes a lot out of you. And you were never one to give less than a 100%. I guess your body finally won. It had been giving you signals - that permanently cracked bone in your toe, the struggle to get out of bed when the back played up, that elbow... ah, that's a different story altogether, but you always overruled it. It must have sulked but you forced more out of it than anyone else. It was bound to serve notice one day. I mean, you will be 40 soon; people get reading glasses at 40. But you leave behind an aspect of cricket that you defined. There will be comparisons with other greats in Test cricket, and you will be a chapter in its history, but with the one-dayer, you are its history, in a sense, certainly for India, where you played in more than half the games (463 out of 809). The team had played a mere 165 games before you started, and it is a measure of the impact you had that there were only 17 centuries scored by then. India made a century every 9.70 games. After you started, that number comes down dramatically, to one every 3.52 games. And since that first century, in Colombo, it comes down even further, to one every 3.23 games. To think that you started with two ducks. Now, of course, the kids keep notching up the hundreds. This young fellow Kohli, for example, who plays with your intensity but whose vocabulary I guess you would struggle with! Looking back, I can't imagine it took you 78 games to hit a hundred. But then you were floating around in the batting order, spending too much time not being in the thick of it all. I can see why you were so desperate to open the batting in Auckland that day in 1994. Why, when you told me the story of how you pleaded with Ajit Wadekar and Mohammad Azharuddin to give you one opportunity, you sounded like you were still pleading. But I guess you had a history of wanting to be in battle, like that misty night in Kolkata (it was Calcutta in your youth, wasn't it?) when you took the ball in the 50th over with just six to defend and delivered a win. It seems impossible to imagine that you averaged a mere 30.84 till that day in Auckland, and that you dawdled along at a strike rate of 74. Since then you averaged 47 at a strike rate of 87. It was a marriage meant to be. I remember that afternoon in Colombo when you approached your first hundred. It had to be Australia, and you were in sublime touch, and you so wanted that first one. You made 110 in 130 balls, but oh, you agonised over those last 15 runs before you got to the century. In a sense, it was like that with the last one too, wasn't it? It was in those moments only that you were a bit like us, that you wanted something so badly, you let it affect your game. But between those two, you were always so much fun, in that belligerent, ruthless, adolescent first phase, in your second, rather more mature and calculated, existence, and of course in that joyous last. What fun that was. The 163 in Christchurch, the 175 in Hyderabad, that 200 in Gwalior, the 120 in Bangalore, the 111 in Nagpur. If it hadn't been for that devilish 100th, would you have continued playing the same way? That 100th hurt you, didn't it, as it did all of us, and I guess we didn't help you by not letting you forget. When the big occasion came, you always played it like another game, even though you knew it was a big day, like those two classics in CB Series finals in 2008, or, of course, those unbelievable nights in Sharjah in 1998. But this 100th took away four or five more. Somebody said to me he didn't want you to quit because it would mean his childhood was over. It isn't just them. Just as the child in you never grew up, so too did many grizzled old men become children when they saw you in blue I know how disappointed you were after the 2007 World Cup. You weren't batting in your favourite position, you were unhappy (if you could ever be unhappy in the game that you revered and tended to like a servant), and without quite saying it, you hinted at the fact that you might have had enough. But the dawn always follows the darkest hour. After the age of 34, in a young man's game, you averaged 48.36. Even by the standards you set yourself, that was unbelievable (in spite of all those nineties, when, almost inevitably, I seemed to be on air). And most of those came without your regular partner. While Sourav was around, you averaged almost 50 at a strike rate of 89. The mind still lingers on the time the two of you would come out at the start of a one-day international. (I watched one of those partnerships the other night and it seemed only the commercial breaks could stop you two.) By now you were playing the lap shots more than the booming drives down the ground. It puzzled me and made many nervous. "I want to play down the ground too," you told me, "that is why I am playing the paddle shot. As soon as they put a fielder there, I'll play the big drive." You were playing with the field the way your great friend Brian Lara did when he was on top of his game. But beyond the numbers some memories remain. I couldn't believe how you went after Glenn McGrath in Nairobi. I must have watched that clip 50 times but understood it more when you told me you wanted to get him angry, that on a moist wicket his line-and-length routine would have won them the game. That pull shot is as fresh in the memory as that first cover drive off Wasim Akram in the 2003 World Cup when you took strike because you thought the great man would have too many tricks for Sehwag. I remember that World Cup well, especially an unheralded innings in Harare that helped beat a sticky Zimbabwe and put the campaign back on track. And your decision to keep the Player of the Tournament award in your restaurant because you would much rather have had the smaller winner's medal. It told me how much that meant to you, and when I saw the tears on your face that night in Mumbai, I instantly knew why. I had only once seen you in tears and that was at a World Cup too. You were practising in Bristol. You were just back from your father's funeral and were wearing the most peculiar dark glasses. There was none of the usual style to them; they were big enough to cover half your face. You agreed to my request to speak to the media and briefly took them off while you were arranging your kit bag. I was taken aback to see your eyes swollen. You must have been in another world but you were courteous as ever. It was only Kenya the next day, but I can see why you rate that hundred. There are so many more. I was only a young cricket writer when I started watching you play, so there will be many. That is also why so many of us will miss you. Somebody said to me he didn't want you to quit because it would mean his childhood was over. It isn't just them. Just as the child in you never grew up, so too did many grizzled old men become children when they saw you in blue. You were a great habit, Sachin. So you are done with the blue then. But the whites remain. That is our first image of you - the curly hair, the confident look, the front foot stride all in white. I hope you have fun in them. You don't need to try too hard to prove a point to us because when you have fun we do too. Cheers, you did well for us. And you gave life and strength to our game.
Chandan Posted December 28, 2012 Posted December 28, 2012 LINK Sachin Tendulkar and his magical aura By Adrian Meredith On December 27, 2012 Sachin Tendulkar the Boy Wonder years In faraway Australia, I too heard about Sachin Tendulkar. He was still a teenager when they first talked about him during international cricket coverage. As a school kid, he had broken all sorts of records. Of course, they said, he wasn't the only one who had been talked up to this level. Shahid Afridi, Brian Lara and Ricky Ponting were all talked about as future champions when they were just teenagers. And while all of them succeeded to some extent, some, like Jamie Cox, never amounted to what he did when he was a teen. I didn't see Tendulkar's first international match at the age of 16. But, like everyone else, I heard about it. He did okay, but not brilliantly. His achievements were on par with Brian Lara's, but not half as good as Shahid Afridi was at that point in his career. I saw his first tour to Australia, and at that point he averaged in the mid-30s in Test cricket, which, realistically, didn't justify his selection in the team. He was still 16 years of age and there were many who complained that it wasn't fair to put him in the side just on potential when a genuine batsman was missing out. We Australians treated him in a similar way to Lara. Australia were wary of him, but didn't really expect him to achieve too much. But when the rest of the Indian batsmen failed, the teenaged Tendulkar stood tall, and scored his first-ever Test century in Australia 148 not out at Sydney. Importantly it was scored overseas in Australia. Indians tend to be good at home and horrible abroad, but here was this young Indian who averaged just 35 at that point scoring his second Test century away from home. He followed it up with another century in the same series, 114 at WACA, just to prove that the first one wasn't a fluke, and ended up topping the averages in his first series in Australia. India lost the series, of course, but it wasn't due to Tendulkar. The teenager helped them to do a lot better than they otherwise would have. I was curious whether, like Lara, Tendulkar would be one of those players who scored "easy runs", big runs when the team was winning easily already or when it was a hopeless cause. But Tendulkar soon earned himself a reputation for winning India One-Day matches when all hope was lost. Lara would later develop this ability too, but early on Tendulkar was scoring the hard runs. He was doing well overseas and he was winning matches by himself. Tendulkar was so good that, like Muttiah Muralitharan for Sri Lanka, he virtually became a one-man team. Occasionally Ravi Shastri, Javagal Srinath or Anil Kumble or someone else would step in, but more often than not, it was Tendulkar or bust. If he did well, India would probably win, but if he failed, India would usually lose. It is hard to say whether Tendulkar was better than Lara. They both had similar reputations as youngsters and both did exceptionally well once they made their debuts. Tendulkar debuted at a younger age but both did very well. The difference perhaps was that while Lara saw his team fall from world champions to nobodies, Tendulkar saw the opposite, as a mediocre team started the steps towards being the best in the world. Certainly at his peak, Lara was superior. At his peak, Lara could win a match on his own when the team was seven wickets down, 10 runs per over required and he was the only batsman left, even with 10 overs to go. Tendulkar couldn't do that. Lara often didn't either, but he had that potential. Tendulkar, however, was more consistent. While Ponting was at one stage ranked number one in the world, he was never really as good as Tendulkar and Lara. He was just in a very good team, where he could pump up an average with easy runs, with cheap runs. Ponting was good, make no mistake about it, but he was never in Tendulkar or Lara's league. It was once said of Steve Waugh that he was a guy you would want to bat for your life. And perhaps the same could be said of Tendulkar too. Tendulkar was never an easy wicket. While Lara had one home series where Glenn McGrath pulverised him, Tendulkar never had such a loss of form. Tendulkar was the rock that held the Indian team together. Eventually, Sourav Ganguly came along, initially as Tendulkar's opening partner in the 1999 World Cup and later as captain. His presence helped Tendulkar bloom from being a rock into being a batsman that a great team would revolve around. It was only thanks to the meddling of Greg Chappell as coach that Ganguly's great team fell apart, when the Australian tried to get rid of India's greatest-ever captain in Ganguly and also their greatest ever player in Tendulkar while both were still in good form. But Chappell eventually left, and while Ganguly soon retired, Tendulkar didn't, and came back with a vengeance. India now had MS Dhoni as captain, certainly a better player than Ganguly, especially in ODIs, but a much worse captain. But they also had an array of magnificent batsmen, with the likes of Virender Sehwag, Virat Kohli and Yuvraj Singh, and some decent bowlers like Zaheer Khan, Shantakumaran Sreesanth, Ashish Nehra, Harbhajan Singh, Ravichandran Ashwin and Pragyan Ojha. With this team, they were able to finally win an ODI World Cup, albeit favoured heavily by being co-hosts. The tournament was finally decided by captain Dhoni, hitting big sixes to win them the trophy. India still weren't ranked No 1 in any format, but soon afterwards they also took over the Test title too, albeit thanks to Australia losing to England. They still kept the position for close to a year. They had also won the World T20 in its inaugural year. Tendulkar largely retired from ODIs soon after scoring the highest score in ODI history an even 200 though soon afterwards this was bettered by his teammate Virender Sehwag. But the thing about Tendulkar is that he never got injured, and never really lost form too much either. Even when he retired he was still doing reasonably well. There is no reason to think that he didn't justify his position in the team. Most players start their international career somewhere between 22 and 25; Tendulkar started at 16. Most finish somewhere between 33 and 37; Tendulkar kept going until 40. At a time when players play an absurd amount of cricket, one of the best players of all time managed to play, in all three formats, at the highest level, for the best part of 23 years. Tendulkar holds the record for most Test runs, most ODI runs, most Test centuries and most ODI centuries all by huge margins from the next best. He is also the only person to have scored 100 international centuries I think the next best is about 60. Tendulkar's peak wasn't as good as Lara's peak, but in terms of consistency Tendulkar was better. Tendulkar was probably the best overall batsman on display in the entire world for the entire time of his international career, other than Lara at his peak, of course. Viv Richards was probably close, Don Bradman was of course far superior, but going back we have the name of another who had a lengthy illustrious career Jack Hobbs the first man to score 100 First-Class centuries, and there we have Tendulkar's equal. Tendulkar may possibly struggle to make an all-time XI, but he is certainly the best that India has ever produced. And in terms of consistency, Tendulkar is the best in the entire world in the past 20 years. And perhaps we end with one of the best aspects of Sachin Tendulkar. You might think for a player with such an illustrious career that he would be arrogant and lazy, as Lara was often accused of being, or merciless and cruel as Ponting was accused of being. But Tendulkar is hugely loved even by people in Pakistan. And while his opponents may hate him while he is out on the ground, after the game, and over time, they end up loving him. In 50 years we may have forgotten all what Tendulkar has achieved. We may have another who will beat his records, there will be others who are better players that India will produce. But that he was so kind over such an absurdly long career is something that will hold him in great stead. Rather than getting annoyed at his teammates not achieving enough, as someone like Kevin Pietersen might do, instead he would praise them, even if they failed. And that is why, even though I know that Lara is probably better at his peak, in selecting an all-time XI, I would slip Tendulkar in at the No 4 batting position, after Len Hutton, Jack Hobbs and Don Bradman and ahead of Garry Sobers. Perhaps Lara, Viv Richards or George Headley were better players, but if I want a nice guy, who was consistent, it is hard to go past Tendulkar, the man you can rely on when all else fails; the guy to achieve when the rest of the team falls apart; the guy who bats well on foreign soil, in conditions that don't suit him, who always gives his 100 per cent. And that is what Indian cricket will forever take from him.
ravishingravi Posted December 29, 2012 Posted December 29, 2012 Sachin Was Us, and We Were Sachin http://india.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/26/sachin-was-us-and-we-were-sachin/ Really lovely blog that can bring Sachinistas and his critics together.
Chandan Posted December 30, 2012 Posted December 30, 2012 LINK Sachin Tendulkar: Did such a man really exist? Published: Monday, Dec 24, 2012, By Suresh Menon | Agency: DNA Sachin Tendulkar is the greatest player to have batted in coloured clothes. For nearly two decades after he made his one-day international debut, Tendulkar was the king without a crown. That crown a World Cup title came in his sixth attempt, last year in India. Unlike in the longer format of the game where you had to take in elements other than pure cricket to bolster your case, in one-day cricket there has never been any doubt. Tendulkar was the best. There were two options in Tendulkar's bag guaranteed to wipe away the frustration and the public humiliation of recent months. He could have scored a series of centuries, or he could have announced his retirement. The recent disappointments should not colour our appraisal of an all-time great. That he announced his decision to retire on the day the selectors were choosing an Indian team might suggest a kindness he certainly deserved. It does not matter now. By quitting ODI four months short of his 40th birthday, Tendulkar has left his options open in Test cricket. He played less than a third of India's 37 ODI matches since the World Cup win, and the light was surely dimming. Yet the decision, symbolically arrived at on the longest night of the year, will usurp on-field events as the biggest cricket story of the year. Even partial retirements remind us of life's inevitabilities. More remarkable than the runs he scored has been the manner in which Tendulkar retained his passion and his fitness over 23 years. Periodically, his body parts which threatened to end his career from the shoulder to the heel and everything in between became national news. But each time Tendulkar came back with renewed vigour, greater hunger and despite the breaks starred in more than half the ODI ever played by India. One day cricket has its own rhythm, its own context, its own shortened narrative as distinct from what Toynbee might have called the rise and fall of civilised cricket had he been a fan of Tests. The ODI lives and dies by its figures. And since shorter the game, greater the importance of statistics,here are some: Tendulkar played more games (463), made more runs (18,426), and more centuries (49) than anybody else. Of the Top 10 batsmen those with over 10,000 runs only Jacques Kallis has the marginally better average, only Sanat Jayasuriya the better strike rate and only Ricky Ponting held more catches than Tendulkar (140). In that list, only Jayasuriya had more wickets than Tendulkar's 154. This is one of those cases where the stats do not lie Tendulkar was indeed the best of the lot, the first choice in a game for Earth versus Mars. India won more than half the matches Tendulkar played in, his importance underlined by his average of 56.63 (career average: 44.83) and strike rate of 90.31 (career: 86.23). He is no longer the only man to have made a double century in the format his colleague Virender Sehwag having overtaken that 200 with a 219, but he was the first to suggest the possibility of attaining that score and then living up to expectations. One final statistic and then we shall move on. Tendulkar made his first century in his 79th match, having made the career-changing move to opening the batting in his 70th match after Navjot Sidhu pulled out with a strained neck in Auckland. Tendulkar, then a few days short of his 21st birthday, smashed 82 off just 49 deliveries with 15 boundaries and two sixes. The greatest ODI opener, and the greatest ODI century-maker had been set on his way over six months and ten matches the greatest all-time ODI batsman followed inevitably. At 16, on his first tour of Pakistan, Tendulkar was not expected to play ODI. And then came Peshawar. Tendulkar's treatment of Abdul Qadir, the great leg spinner is part of folklore now. The boy had curly hair, curiosity in his eyes, and steel in his wrists. He played only because it was not an official match, and Kapil Dev was nursing a stiff neck. At that stage there was no plan to play Tendulkar in ODI at all. But after that he couldn't be denied. Eighteen deliveries changed everything. In that time he made 53 (unbeaten), hitting Mushtaq Ahmed for two huge sixes, and then Abdul Qadir for 27 runs in a single over, with three sixes in a row. There was no wild slogging. When Qadir dropped one short as Tendulkar stepped out, the batsman had the arrogance to go through with his shot anyway. The bat made a lovely arc, and for all we know the ball is still travelling no one could find it. At the other end was the captain, Krishnamachari Srikkanth, no slouch himself. Later that evening he said, referring to the one-day series, 'the little bugger' must play now. The little bugger has been playing ever since, while many of those he played with are coming to terms with the challenges of middle age. Whereas in Test cricket, Tendulkar has played some great innings but few definitive ones, in ODI, he has played both. The centuries in Sharjah, for instance, twice in succession against Australia, the 98 in the World Cup, the double century in Gwalior against South Africa. If the Sharjah centuries were made by a sportsman at the peak of his powers, the double came off the bat of a mature run-gatherer who hardly played a single stroke that was not in the coaching manual. And therein lay Tendulkar's greatness as a batsman in the shorter format he combined orthodoxy and innovation to a degree unmatched by any of his contemporaries. He could slash over third man with panache or whip the ball from outside the off stump past mid on with power. He could be beaten and still recover to hit a boundary. But above all, he could frustrate the best bowlers by playing with a straight bat and a sense of mischief. He loved to open, to hit over the top when the field was in, and strike when the ball was new. With Sourav Ganguly he formed one of the most potent opening partnerships, the drive as straight as an arrow early in the innings indicating that it was going to be his day. He set such high standards that not only was he expected to score a century every time he went out to bat, he was expected to pulverise the bowling. He did both through most of his career, and that spoilt us. Perhaps our greed was greater than his ambition which from an early age was no longer exclusively his alone. Every thousand runs was seen merely as the starting point for the next thousand. In the end, we had to be content with fewer than 20,000 runs and 50 centuries. Such seductive round figures, but increasingly less meaningful to a player who had achieved so much. The Tendulkar-shaped hole at the top of the order will always remind us of the man who occupied that space, took Indian cricket to great heights, and in the end bowed out leaving behind the figures, and the memories. Our grandchildren will ask us: Did such a man really exist?
Chandan Posted December 30, 2012 Posted December 30, 2012 LINK Colour leaves his life | Aditya Iyer : New Delhi, Mon Dec 24 2012 In both the photographs and the videos on Youtube, the frame is hazy. On one end of the pitch, a bunch of grainy players, all wearing green jerseys and yellow pyjamas, lie low. At the end closer to the camera, a batsman squats. The subjects are largely unrecognisable. But thanks to the solitary figure's colours, no fan who put up with the 90s will fail to pinpoint the significance of the moment. Or its relevance in defining Sachin Tendulkar. Light blue top, navy blue bottom. Sharjah, 1998 and a sand storm. A crisis, a century and a loss. India, both country and cricket team, came to terms with its dependency on one man. 'We lost the match, but it feels like a win', Mohd Azharuddin would say. It would hold true right through his quest to define 50-over cricket. That definition was born in the 90s, with Tendulkar's blue standing out from the pile as he single-handedly battled the forces from fiery oppositions to a non-performing set of team-mates to nature's wrath. By the end of the century, India would never shift out of this colour-spectrum ever again, right until the time he walked back to the dressing room for the last time in March this year. But this journey that outlasted time was a colourful one literally and figuratively. In the blue he built a team, brands and cola jingles. But before that, with the rest of the colours on the rainbow scale, Tendulkar first painted the portrait of a soon-to-be cricketing deity. When he first appeared as a 16-year old in a buttoned white shirt at Gujranwala, one-day cricket wasn't quite what it is now. Yes, Packer had ushered colour into the game. But apart from an odd World Series, it was yet to catch a fire. It did for many Indians, when Tendulkar wore the flaming yellow kit and became an India opener for the very first time. Auckland 1992, Tendulkar's 67th inning. The willow blazed like the yellow tee during his 49-ball 82. A destroyer was born. A legend soon would be. In 1994, the yellow glittered as India arrived in Colombo in a golden cream jersey. The wunderboy struck his first ever ODI hundred, against an Aussie side draped in blue. Both the colour and results between these two sides soon reversed. But not Tendulkar's knack of accumulating big ones. As Bangalore, Calcutta, Bombay and Madras changed to Bengaluru, Kolkata, Mumbai and Chennai, and as one outrageous print on the India shirt changed to another (from bursting firecrackers to pinstripes), Tendulkar remained the only constant. If you thought that Tendulkar only accumulated runs in inconsequential matches, then you weren't a fan of the World Cups. The ink blue came first, 1992 Australia. But Tendulkar seemed to prefer the homemade garments at the 1996 edition. As violet, cyan, magenta and indigo found its way around the midriff, Tendulkar feasted impartially from Kenya's green to Lanka's blue. The team colours stabilised by the mid 2000s and so did Tendulkar. With a tri-colour smear replacing the oddities in the front, Tendulkar helped the flag flutter in South Africa 2003 with pride. But only when the blue bled deeper did Tendulkar give the sponsors a reason to stop creating new jersey designs in 2011. A star, his one and only, had been stitched above the BCCI crest. Mumbai never saw Tendulkar in colours again. Now, the rest of the world won't. But in the process of lording over a format, he had also hand-held his team through its evolutionary stages jersey colour or otherwise. One-dayers will be paler without him. Quite like the hazy Sharjah frame, minus the blue figure.
Chandan Posted December 31, 2012 Posted December 31, 2012 Dec 29 2012 2:36PM Cricket will not be the same without Sachin Tendulkar | Just as the absence of heat makes us feel cold, the absence of controversies in his resume make Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar the coolest of all Indian icons. Ever wondered what goes into the making of a man who has become a legend in his lifetime? There is a lot more to Sachin than just being a run-machine. His greatness as a batsman lies not in having made more runs than anyone else, but the process he adopted. Sachin's success underlines the fact that talent alone is not enough. It is what you do with it that matters in the final analysis. Not for a second has Sachin let his focus slip. He has always preferred the hard grind to shortcuts. In spite of his cult status and the trimmings (fame, power, wealth) that go with it, Sachin has never let anything interfere with his game. We may not think twice about criticizing him for just about everything - his batting technique, hairstyle, sartorial sense, nomination to Rajya Sabha and his decision to play on - but no matter what you say, or how much the critics crib, you can never provoke a reaction from the Little Master, who believes in keeping his own counsel. CHASING HIS DREAMS They say, a closed mouth gathers no foot. Never has an Indian celebrity spoken so little and yet inspired so much awe as Sachin. Lack of sound bites has not dimmed the media's enthusiasm to relentlessly pursue the man who has always let his bat do the talking. Not one word out of place, not one step out of turn in his 23-year career in the course of which Sachin has scaled peaks of success that lesser mortals can only dream of. Yet, he continues to be humble and honest - values that his parents had instilled in him at an early age. If at 39, his brand value remains intact, it is because he continues to inspire millions to dream. Sachin, of course, started dreaming about playing for the country quite early. When he was picked in the Indian squad for the Pakistan tour in 1989, Sachin was 16, not even old enough to sign the contract papers sent by BCCI. He continues to live his dream even today. It has been a fascinating journey that has taken him across continents, exposed him to hostile conditions and challenged him to rise to the occasion at every turn. Critics who label him as 'selfish' often lose sight of the fact that Sachin spent his entire teenage life and youth in the service of the nation whose stock in international cricket was not very high. Sachin's Taurian stubbornness was on view in his very first Test match in Karachi when he stood up to Pakistan's hostile three-pronged pace attack, comprising Imran, Wasim and Waqar, but it was not until Silakot that Sachin earned his stripes. On a green, fast and bouncy pitch, Sachin was hit on the bridge of his nose by a snorter from Waqar. He, however, refused to go off the field and took fresh guard after staunching the flow of blood with a handkerchief. His steely resolve and ample talent found full expression in the same over when he twice drove Waqar to the cover boundary even as placards saying, "Go home and drink milk" went up in the stands. Seniors in the squad like Kapil, Vengsarkar, Shastri and Srikkanth were all very protective of the teenager on his maiden tour, but that was the day when Sachin came of age and the nation fell in love with him. PRISONER OF FAME Today he is the elder statesman in the side, but such is his stature that youngsters half his age hero-worship him. He has had to constantly work on his game to remain one step ahead of bowlers are always on the lookout for the most prized scalp in international cricket. It will be unfair to dismiss Sachin as an intensely private person who shuns public life. True, like most celebrities, Sachin too is a prisoner of his own fame, but those who have shared time and space with the "master" describe him as a "regular" guy who relaxes by listening to music, prefers seafood, loves to drive fast cars and enjoys the company of his family most. He is used to being mobbed. Just about everyone, his fans and opponents included, wants a piece of the man who had "reminded " the peerless Donald Bradman "of himself". He has the temperament of a hermit. He is not known to refuse an autograph-seeker or pose for a photograph. Even when he has got a poor umpiring decision, he's never thrown a tantrum. The only occasions when we have seen him a touch agitated is when someone moved across the sight screen. When it is between him and the bowler, he brooks no interference. It was mainly due to his discomfiture at the crease that the ICC has been obliged to raise the height of sight screens at all international venues. His teammates have marvelled at his genius while batting with him. Rahul Dravid admitted to getting a "weird" feeling when he found spectators starting to clap after being dismissed cheaply. Later he realised that it was in anticipation of the Little Master's arrival at the crease! This trend continues even today as Sachin prepares to walk into the sunset. Earlier this year, fans at Sydney, where Sachin has a great record, and the Adelaide Oval, Bradman's backyard, admitted to having a lump in their throats as they gave him a standing ovation one final time. Sachin would be not human if it had not affected him. To his credit, he betrayed no emotion and acknowledged the cheers by gently raising his bat that betrayed him for the first time Down Under. He sought comfort in his family. A doting father to his two children Sara and Arjun and a loving husband to Anjali, whom he first met - and later courted - at the Mumbai airport while waiting for his luggage to arrive, Sachin is the quintessential family man we all aspire to be. His father had the biggest influence on him and it was his mother Rajani who sent him back to England, saying his country needed him more for India's World Cup campaign in 1999, when Sachin had air-dashed to Mumbai to attend his father's last rites. He is excited to see Arjun among Mumbai U-14 probables. Bowling to Arjun in the nets is a ritual that Sachin really enjoys, but he wants to put no pressure on him, realising that the young boy has his hands full living up to a surname that the world of cricket doffs its hat to. SACHIN THE SLEEPWALKER Among the other things that Sachin enjoys is go-karting. He simply loves to drive fast. He permits himself a quiet chuckle when he sees the frightened expression on his co-passengers ' faces. He is also a very talented table tennis player and is always up for a game or two with his teammates. Like most cricketers, Sachin too is superstitious. He is particularly finicky about his bat. His teammates recall that a young Sachin was so worried about his bat not arriving in time that he was found sleepwalking at the team hotel in Faisalabad in 1989. Known to use the heaviest bat (1.51 kg) in the business, Sachin refused to use lighter ones even after he suffered a tennis elbow. During the Eden Test earlier this month, he had his 'lucky' bat as well as an old arm guard 'fixed' before the match and ended up scoring 76, which turned out to be his highest score in the series. Much before Sachin struck up a friendship with tennis ace Roger Federer, he was a John McEnroe fan. He was just eight years old when he watched McEnroe end Bjorn Borg's five-year reign at the Big W in 1981 on television and then proceeded to copy his idol's look by reining in his mass of curly hair with a hairband and donning wrist bands! Like all Taurians, Sachin is a loyal friend. He has a very close circle of friends and it is only when he is in their company that the real, fun loving Sachin emerges. His friends say that if he sets his mind on something, you can rest assured that he will achieve it. They point to the Sydney Test in 2004 when Sachin made an epic 241 without playing a single stroke between thirdman and cover because he had been getting out caught in that region too frequently. These are feats of a man who, many say, is destiny's child. To say he has enriched the game with his exceptional talent is like thanking the sun for sunshine. Cricket will not be the same when he walks into the sunset.
Chandan Posted December 31, 2012 Posted December 31, 2012 LINK SUNDAY, 23 DECEMBER 2012 So long, Sachin. I hardly knew you... God knows it can't be easy to step into the blurry space beyond 23 years of crystal international cricket. It must be even harder when you naturally wanted to leave with your bat raised in triumph rather than swishing away the vultures circling tentatively but in ever greater numbers around your head. You still might if you can rouse yourself into one last wave of special in the upcoming Tests against Australia, but don't fret too much on that. The hero's farewell only matters for the moment it happens. It rarely comes to be remembered for how it was prolonged or foreshortened, it just becomes the point to start remembering. Even as his greatest fan, I doubt even you recall the night in 1992 when your own teen idol hung up his tennis racket without fanfare after a humdrum defeat in Germany. You just recall John McEnroe's genius, from his improbable deftness to the headbands you were so desperate for your parents to buy so you could wear them in pugnacious tribute. Your photo ruined creativity in Indian advertising for many years, but a thousand bowlers preferred to see you staring down from a billboard instead of staring back at them whilst your peerless on drive whizzed past their hapless ankles and they wondered what hellish nonsense cricket had become. The early Old Trafford salvage and the Perth salivation prodded those abroad in the ribs as they woke up on the couch to find your genius had sneaked into bed with their girlfriends. The Shoaib upper cut and the Caddick pull made everyone laugh and shake their heads at the comic futility of containment. Warne was once called a balloon who should deflate himself and in Chennai you stuck pins in his psyche until even that infinite self-belief had gone pop. You owned Sharjah and the 2003 World Cup until McGrath proved just too fated, and, though you again stumbled in the 2011 final, your team mates still picked you up and carried you on their shoulders, knowing that you had played Atlas to them and so many of their predecessors for so long. I still don't quite understand who you are, though you were candid, beaming and impish in interviews, with hair that got better with age and never the credit it deserved. You laughed and twinkled, yet somehow intrusion never quite got through your gate the way balls bowled ten years ago never would have but do now. When you scored your fiftieth Test ton you said it was only a number and, though I became one of the vultures who wanted you to go sooner, who among us should doubt it wasn't the numbers which kept you staggering on towards the hundredth overall, but rather the desire to carry on the magnificent routine of providing meaning for yourself and your billion dependents for just a few months more. Even now you've outmanoeuvred us all again with a semi-exit, another cute piece of footwork to go with all the rest. We'll await what those Tests in February and March bring, whether more of your recent angst and misjudgments or a final deity surge to top it all off. I'll desperately be hoping it's the latter but the expectancy has gone, as it has for large amounts of your public and, perhaps now, even yourself. When you were young, you fought like a cat with other kids to the extent your father checked you for bruises while you slept. It's no surprise, then, you wanted to fight a little longer to play the game you had pinned in its corner for so long. But you can stop fighting now, Sachin Tendulkar. Take off the headband and put down your racket. You've won, Sir. My, how you've won.
Chandan Posted December 31, 2012 Posted December 31, 2012 LINK A tale of Tendulkar and his glorious legacy Sanjeeb Mukherjea | CNN-IBN | Updated Dec 23, 2012 "I have decided to retire from the One Day format of the game. I feel blessed to have fulfilled the dream of being part of a World Cup wining Indian team. The preparatory process to defend the World Cup in 2015 should begin early and in right earnest. I would like to wish the team all the very best for the future. I am eternally grateful to all my well wishers for their unconditional support and love over the years." Sachin Tendulkar's farewell to one day cricket arrived with this brief statement on Sunday morning. The Little Master pulling the plug on his ODI career, announcing his decision to no longer be part of India's 50-over team. Considered the most complete batsman in the modern era, and unquestionably, one of the greatest ever to have wielded the willow in the shorter format of the game, Tendulkar leaves behind a glorious legacy for the world of cricket, that has only been enriched by his immense contribution. Tendulkar's longevity in the game that fetched him 18,426 runs from 463 ODIS, also spurred him on to many records, a few of which might remain till posterity. Time obscures certain specifics, but the chequered career that saw him become the most capped player in the shorter format, has been a wonderful joyride for all who have witnessed his journey over the past 23 years. While records are meant to be broken, it is Tendulkar's unquestionable status in the hearts and minds of fans across the planet that will make sure his enduring legacy remains untouched by Father Time. But did it all go smoothly for the Little Master? Did he quit just because he felt he had nothing more to achieve, or contribute in one day cricket? Was he not enjoying his cricket as much as he would have wanted to? The BCCI fronted up to the media, stating it wasn't a shocker, as questions flew thick and fast as to why the Little Master decided to call it quits on the eve of the team selection for the series against Pakistan. At the board headquarters in Churchgate, Mumbai, Chief Administrative Officer (CAO) of the BCCI, Prof Ratnakar Shetty said, 'Tendulkar's decision is not a shocker for BCCI. He was waiting for the right time." Sections in the Indian media had whipped up frenzy recently, suggesting Tendulkar would surely be playing in the series against Pakistan, and that he had apprised the chief selector Sandeep Patil about it. But the turn of events within seventy two hours, has left many an onlooker surprised. While no one can confirm if it indeed was the right time for Tendulkar to bid adieu to ODI cricket, CNN-IBN had reported on Friday, Dec 21, that an uncertain future awaited him, atleast in ODI cricket, and the powers-that-be, might ignore him when they select the team to play Pakistan. So what nudged the legend to walk away will perhaps, never be known, atleast, nothing on record. Instead, outpourings of admiration, love, appreciation, and respect will flood our senses shortly as one day cricket readies itself to live without Tendulkar. For a man who has always provided his own context, oblivious of the incessant curiosity about him, preparing to watch Tendulkar in coloured clothes just in repeat telecasts and replays, though inevitable, is immensely sad. A gentle reminder that a lifetime of watching a genius, and the pure, unbridled joy it brought, is over. Almost immediately, another disturbing question pops up, as if in connivance with his one day retirement. Will the Master pad up to play the test matches against Australia in February 2013? As I pen down these thoughts, the wintry climes of a certain hill station away from Mumbai, provides a more comforting retreat to the Little Master. A man who has been the master of his own destiny, here's hoping Tendulkar doesn't leave such thoughts unattended. After all, Indian cricket't inner workings do leave much in the realms of speculation. As a fine cricket writer once told me, 'no one will even remember how you leave'the memory of you at your peak is what will remain, forever etched'.
Recommended Posts
Create an account or sign in to comment
You need to be a member in order to leave a comment
Create an account
Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!
Register a new accountSign in
Already have an account? Sign in here.
Sign In Now