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BOOK REVIEW
The
colossus of cricket
Sachin Tendulkar. Masterful,
by Peter Murray and Ashish Shukla
Reviewed by Sreeram Chaulia
"Sehwag used to imitate Sachin in front of a mirror ... he
used to say that he will be Sachin one day."
- Virender Sehwag's mother
The visual and print media are hailing the new wonder kid of
Indian cricket, Virender Sehwag, as the "Najafgarh Tendulkar",
after the area in Delhi to which Sehwag belongs. To become a
term of reference like this is a stupendous achievement for Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, whose mesmerizing batting feats,
consistency and personal goodness have set new standards in the
game of cricket and in the sports celebrity business. To call
Tendulkar an icon is easily an understatement in cricket-crazed
India, where his popularity and adulation outdoes the combined
acclaim of all the film stars, politicians and holy men.
It is worth recalling that when Tendulkar debuted for India in
1989 as a callow 16-year-old, there was another term of
reference for him, "Junior Gavaskar". I was a staunch Sunil
Gavaskar fan at that time and thought it preposterous that a
rookie in his first international season could begin to be
compared to the legendary Gavaskar. I could not have been more
wrong. In 13 years, Tendulkar has demolished more records and
bowlers and won more hearts of cricket fans around the world
than Gavaskar or any other cricketer in history, facts that
propelled him recently to the cover of Time magazine. Sehwag may
be explosive and imperious, but I am wagering that he will never
quite be another Tendulkar, who is the legend of legends.
Journalists Peter Murray and Ashish Shukla take a closer look at
the making of this leviathan of cricket in a concise, glossy and
highly readable biography.
Prodigy wrapped in values
Tendulkar was the third child of a middle class playwright
father and an insurance agent mother, bouncing into the world on
April 24, 1973. Growing up in the unsophisticated Bandra and
Dadar localities of Mumbai, he imbibed the intensely moral and
spiritual environment that his parents fostered at home. "An
obsession with money or worldly matters was thumbed down. It was
important that you were living every day of your life with grace
and honor." (p.38)
Acknowledging that his inner calm and stoic nature were gifts of
this ambience, Tendulkar would say later, "I think it was my
background, the typical middle class virtues of an Indian home,
which has shaped me as a person." He used to touch the feet of
his parents before playing any match in Mumbai, a practice
retained to this day after becoming an international celebrity.
Money and fame took a backseat in the value system of the young
Tendulkar, helping explain his current "karmic sadhu-like"
detachment from the glamour and arc lights that surround him.
Faith also became central to his psyche from an early age. With
typical self-effacement, he now claims that his talent and
success are all because of Ganesh and Sai Baba, the two favorite
deities he visits in temples of Mumbai by night to avoid
shrieking fans and legions of autograph hunters.
According to Tendulkar's nanny, "When he was two-and-a-half
years old, he insisted that I throw the ball at him. It was a
plastic ball and he batted with a dhoka [washing stick]."
(p.42) He clambered up mango trees, played hide-and-seek and
local games like viti dandi and shigrupi with the
neighborhood kids. He insisted on two plates for dinner, one for
himself and the other for Ramesh, a childhood pal who was the
son of the watchman and went on to become his secretary. Very
soon though, his sporting interests began to crystallize around
cricket. His mentor and elder brother, Ajit, took him to coach
Ramakant Achrekar in Aagar Bazaar at the age of 10. He was
"nervous as hell and couldn't do a thing right in the presence
of his imposing coach". (p.1). At 11, he moved to his uncle's
home near Shivaji Park to stay closer to Achrekar and his
coaching classes, heralding the blossoming of a genius.
Achrekar believed in putting his wards through virtual match
situations and made Tendulkar play as many as 13 matches in a
single day, shifting him to the adjacent pitch as soon as he
went out in one game. The coach would place a rupee coin on top
of the stumps when Tendulkar batted, with the rule that the
bowler who got him out would take it, and if no one could do so,
then Sachin could keep the coin. Tendulkar recalls: "It was a
big thing to get that coin for myself. I lost a couple of times
but I have 13 coins with me. I didn't spend that money." (p.10)
Under Achrekar's keen eye, Tendulkar turned cricket into
religion: "My friends had music and films and I had cricket."
Interestingly, the future batting wizard fancied himself as a
fast bowler and even went to Australian Dennis Lillee's MRF Pace
Foundation in Chennai for selection trials, only to be advised
that he would be better off as a batsman.
During a school tournament in 1988, Tendulkar exploded on the
scene in Mumbai with an unbeaten 664-run partnership with friend
Vinod Kambli. Soon, past Test cricketers made appearances at
venues where Tendulkar was playing to have a look at the
precocious talent. India captain Dilip Vengsarkar invited the
youngster to play in the nets of the national team in 1987
because "he appeared a genius to me at first sight. It was
simply not possible for me to ignore him." (p.14) At 15,
Tendulkar played first class cricket for Mumbai in the Ranji,
Deodhar and Duleep trophies.
Raj Singh Dungarpur, high-profile head of the Indian Cricket
Board, then gave Tendulkar the ultimate break, appreciating the
sharp cricketing acumen with which someone so young could check
his shots while driving to mid-off and mid-on so that he could
pick up singles. A legal battle between senior Indian cricketers
and the board in 1989 over unofficial tournaments allowed
Dungarpur to name Tendulkar, at the age of 16 years and 205
days, to the national squad touring Pakistan. Tendulkar's
contract with the board was signed by his father due to his
legal status as a minor who did not even have the right to a
driving license!
Although tense and overawed at all the famous names playing with
and against him, Tendulkar felt "I was too young at 16 to be
frightened by anything". (p.26) His first innings fetched only
15 runs in Karachi as he instantly realized how quality cricket
at the highest level differed from school or first class
matches. He initially felt "out of depth" at that class of
cricket, but soon notched up a half century in the second Test,
surviving a barrage of verbal assaults and taunts by fiery fast
bowler Wasim Akram. A star was born.
Test match mogul
With 30 Test centuries and 8,000-plus runs at a career average
of 58, Tendulkar is today the nearest the cricketing world has
seen to the great Australian, Donald Bradman. What set him apart
from several other talented youngsters who shot to limelight in
the early 1990s was intensity and run-hunger.
He still indulges in "mental rehearsal" against bowlers and the
pitch and is unable to sleep on the eve of a Test match. "He
wants to eliminate all possibility of failure, as if it would
discredit him in his own eyes." (p.56) His first century, at
Perth against Australia, came in 1992, an innings that would be
hailed as one of the greatest ever seen Down Under. In three and
a bit hours he hit 14 fours to the fence against such dreaded
bowlers as Craig McDermott, Merv Hughes and Paul Reiffel, even
as batting partners departed regularly at the other end. In days
to come, the "lad with so few seasons behind him" was bruited as
the "new Bradman", by none other than the Don himself.
Tendulkar's next epoch-making innings came at Edgbaston, against
England in 1996, his ninth century at the age of 23, compelling
many to call him the "most outstanding right-hander in the
game". He got under the skin of the English attack, displaying
supreme control, power and authority, bringing out to the open
the frustration of England captain Michael Atherton. The
authors, who witnessed that innings, say that it was "worth a
memory of a lifetime" because "rarely does one see a domination
so complete, an authority which mocks at any challenge". (p.72)
Appointed captain of India after the disastrous 1996 World Cup,
Tendulkar was, however, checked in his relentless march to
batting zenith by an annus horribilis. He did not bargain for
"the dark, sulking disposition of Mohammad Azharuddin, who was
smarting at the loss of captaincy", and also a slight decline in
his own form, which critics attributed to the pressures of being
skipper. In the second Test match against South Africa at Cape
Town, Tendulkar partnered with Azhar for a memorable 222-run
partnership that included an exciting duel with fast bowler
Allan Donald. But it soon came home that series white washes in
South Africa and the West Indies were partly the result of
non-cooperation of Azhar and wicketkeeper Nayan Mongia.
Sacked as captain, Tendulkar underwent a renaissance in 1998,
notching up mountains of runs. The home series against Mark
Taylor's Australia saw him at his belligerent best, scoring 155
in the first Test (four sixes, 14 fours), and destroying the
spin legerdemain of Shane Warne by repeatedly dancing down the
track and hitting him against the turn. Shukla and Murray note
how "inspired by the occasion and the stature of his opponents,
Tendulkar took batting to a rarefied zone on that day". (p.85)
Warne accepts that he still has nightmares about Tendulkar
stepping out and hitting the ball over his head.
No account of Tendulkar's golden knocks, though, is complete
without the Chennai Test against Pakistan in 1999, where India
lost despite his heroic, injury-defying 136, built painstakingly
during 405 minutes at the crease. Winning captain Wasim Akram
stated at the presentation ceremony, "Today we saw one of the
best innings I have ever seen played." The man of the match was
lying on the physiotherapist's bench with severe back injury,
shattered by the narrow defeat and facing an uncertain future
with the fitness problem. Over the years, Tendulkar's trademark
pulls and hooks off short balls placed unreasonable demands on
his back, forcing him to miss a few series in the past three
years and attracting speculation that, like West Indian Brian
Lara, he was "past his prime".
Proving detractors wrong was an incidental hobby of the master,
and soon enough he compiled a scintillating 155 against South
Africa at Bloemfontein in 2001, putting ace bowlers Donald,
Shaun Pollock and Nantie Hayward to sword. It was "a position of
utter hopelessness transformed by the brilliance of a single
individual". (p.97) Shukla and Murray published the book before
the recent Headingly Test match against England where Tendulkar
pulverized the home team with a magnificent 193, yet another
special innings confirming his unparalleled skills and
run-gathering power.
One day international blaster
The reason that Tendulkar is considered the most complete
batsman ever is his awe-inspiring record in both Test and one
day international cricket. With 32 centuries, more than 11,000
runs (average of 44) and 105 wickets in the shorter version of
the game, Tendulkar has left his nearest competitors light years
behind. In 1994, he pleaded to be given a chance to open the
innings in a one day game at Auckland against New Zealand.
Navjot Sidhu, the regular opener, luckily pulled out due to a
neck strain and Tendulkar smashed 82 off 49 balls, captivating
audiences with style and aggression. His 73 against archrivals
Pakistan in Sharjah (1994) was long hailed for the fabulous
battle with Akram's pace bowling.
In 1998, the "essential Tendulkar" who revels in tough
conditions against big opponents, came down in a deluge to drown
Australia, whom he single-handedly subdued on many occasions. At
the Kochi one-dayer, he "bowled leg spin at the right-handers
and off spin to the left-handers" and ended with figures of five
wickets for 32 runs in 10 overs, flummoxing the Waugh brothers,
Michael Bevan, Damien Martyn and others. In the last league
match at Sharjah, his 143 from 131 balls (nine fours and
6sixsixes) was an onslaught the Australians never forgot, for as
the humidity rose to unbearable heights, instead of getting
tired, his forearm seemed to impart more swing and power. He
bettered the performance with a dazzling 134 from 131 balls in
the finals (12 fours, three sixes), an innings that evoked
uncharacteristic admiration from Aussie skipper Steve Waugh:
"There is no shame being beaten by such a great player." At the
mini world cup in Dhaka, it was an encore against the baggy
greens of Australia, with Tendulkar getting 141 in 127 balls (13
fours, three sixes) and then capturing four wickets as a bowler.
Tendulkar's epic unbeaten 186 against New Zealand at Hyderabad
(1999) was described by the press as "batting mayhem", another
stroke-studded knock that is his career best.
Coping with fortune and demigod-hood
Companies such as Britannia, HomeTrade, Boost, MRF, Adidas,
Visa, Pepsi and Fiat have signed endorsement contracts worth
millions of dollars with Tendulkar, who is the richest cricketer
on earth. They have ridden on his image and ever-surging
popularity both in the Indian and world consumer markets by
packaging him just the way he is in real life: modest,
unassuming and moral. It is not just his exploits on the pitch
but also his off-field demeanor, simplicity and humility that
make him "cricket's most marketable commodity". (Mark
Mascarenhas). To Deepak Jolly of Pepsi, he is a role model due
to the dignity with which he has handled extraordinary success.
His poor childhood nanny glows with pride how the darling of
millions still stops the car and comes to visit her when he is
around Bandra: "He places his hand over my head and pats my
cheeks. He hasn't changed. He is still like my son." (p.44)
Shukla and Murray think that "Tendulkar fills a vacuum in a
nation bereft of role models" and that he is a "unifying symbol"
across the diversity of India. He will never be as rich as US
basketball star Michael Jordan, and yet he escapes the censure
which that legend faces about being too greedy and lacking
social responsibility. In his quiet, unobtrusive way, Tendulkar
assists programs to help Mumbai slum children and insists that
his family never give any press interviews. On field, hardly
anyone has detected contretemps by him, with the two ball
tampering charges against him by umpire Mike Denness and bowler
Abdur Razzaq not standing objective scrutiny. When present
England captain Nasser Hussain sledged and abused Tendulkar in a
recent Test series, the latter responded by praising Hussain as
"a very fine captain, I think".
How many individuals have the honor of having biographies
written about them when they are 29? How many sport stars can
singularly lift a nation's mood? How many cricketers can dream
of earning the ultimate eulogy, as from former South African
cricket hero Barry Richards, that "for sheer entertainment, Sachin will keep cricket alive"?
Had the classic cricket writer, Neville Cardus, been alive, I
wonder if he might have fumbled for apposite language to
describe Tendulkar. We are fortunate to be living in his age and
watching him live, for cricket will never be the same after he
hangs up his bat. In the words of his Mumbai and India
colleague, Ravi Shastri, "He is someone sent from up there to
play cricket and go back." The day he goes back, cricket will be
poorer.
Sachin Tendulkar. Masterful, by Peter Murray and Ashish
Shukla, Murray Publishing, Adelaide, 2002. ISBN: 0-9580348-0-X.
Price: US$19, 168 pages.
(©2002 Asia Times Online Co, Ltd. All rights reserved. Please
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