Mere words are not enough to convey what Sourav Chandidas Ganguly meant for Indian cricket and Indian cricket fans, in particular. One has to recall fond memories of instances which one has been fortunate enough to witness over the years, courtesy live television coverage. These instances tell the story of a man who took Indian cricket from the depths of the match-fixing saga to a stage where fans began expecting Indian teams to win atleast a Test or two, if not the series, each time they travelled abroad.
It is said that under Tiger Pataudi, Indian teams learnt how to win. If that is true, and it sure is, under Ganguly, Indian teams learnt how to win abroad. Earlier, especially during the horror phase of the 90s when Indian teams were like 'tigers at home and lambs abroad', fans were left clutching at the proverbial straw when it came to overseas performances. As has been the bane of Indian cricket, one was left to marvel at sporadic individual moments of brilliance while the team as a whole, almost inevitably, crumbled in a heap. I recall during the 1996-97 tour to South Africa at Cape Town, Sachin Tendulkar and Mohammed Azharuddin put up a breathtaking display of attacking batsmanship against genuinely quick bowling by Allan Donald and Shaun Pollock. I particularly remember Azhar hitting Lance Klusener for five boundaries in an over. He had earlier walked in with the score reading 58-5. It was also the tour on which India were shot out for a combined total of 166 in two innings, at Durban, lasting all of 73.2 overs in the match. During those days Indian performances overseas vacillated between generally mediocre and fleetingly brilliant.
Fast forward to the fifth day of the Adelaide Test against Australia, in 2003-04. India were minutes away from a historic win against the world champions in their own backyard. Rahul Dravid, the pillar of the Indian batting in those days, was at the crease. The camera panned towards the path leading from the pavilion to the ground. And the scene that I witnessed will forever remain with me. A supremely confident Sourav Ganguly stood near the boundary gate, calmly signing autographs, patiently waiting for the moment to arrive. As Rahul cut Stuart MacGill to the point boundary to signal India's victory, Dada walked out on to the ground, the king proudly waiting to receive his knight-in-shining-armour as he headed back with the spoils of victory. It was Sourav himself who had earlier shown the way, with an authoritative 144 in the first Test at Brisbane.
The seeds of this renaissance had been sown during the tumultous series against the Australians in 2000-01. As India almost made a mess chasing the smallish target on the fifth day of the deciding Test at Chennai, Ganguly sat in the pavilion with tension so palpable on his face, you almost felt for him. As Harbhajan Singh hit the winning runs, he jumped up, raised his arms in victory and then rushed straight into the brotherly embrace of Rahul Dravid. He was so overcome with emotion that Rahul held Sourav's head close to his chest, slowly patting it, trying to calm him down.
The man was emotional to the core, all right. But he was a also a shrewd handler of men. As he used to say, "Captaincy is all about man management". And he backed his guys to the hilt, going to the extremes to protect them from the powers-that-be, the first Indian captain to genuinely do so, after perhaps Tiger Pataudi. Like Tiger, Dada's aristocrat background seemed to lift him from the need to pander to the regional and parochial mentalities of Indian cricket administrators and players. Punjab man Harbhajan Singh would have never played for India after being thrown out of the National Cricket Academy, but for Dada. Ganguly saw the boy was a special talent, and fought for his inclusion against the visiting Australians in 2000-01. The rest, as they say, is history. The core players of the current Indian team were discovered, nurtured and developed under Dada. Harbhajan apart, Zaheer, Yuvraj, Sehwag, Dhoni are in a sense, all Dada's boys. Under him, the Indian team developed a sense of purpose, a refusal to bow down meekly as was typical of Indian teams of the 90s.
It is fair to say that as a batsman, he more or less did justice to his enormous potential, especially in the limited overs format, where he surely is one of the greatest ever. In Tests, apart from the phase during his captaincy, he did very well. And whatever is said about his weakness against the short ball, scoring more than 7,000 Test runs is not a joke. Very few batsmen from the sub-continent are genuinely comfortable facing the fast short-pitched delivery.
Nowadays, my mother makes an interesting point each time the media goes berserk after an Indian overseas win. First ever series win in Pakistan in 2004. First ever Test win in South Africa in 2006. First Test win in Australia in 22 years at Adelaide in 2003. She says each time these guys win abroad, it is hailed as a historic win. Didn't we use to win anything earlier? And then, with a wistful smile, she answers her own question. No. Hailing from Bengal herself, she then says what every Indian cricket lover must be saying in his heart, "Dada, amake chode jaao na". Take a final bow, Sourav Chandidas Ganguly. You were the architect of a new era that does not know the meaning of the word 'fear'.
Friday, 14 November 2008
Wednesday, 5 November 2008
Shabbash Anil bhai!
It was a perfect lazy Sunday afternoon. I was just relaxing watching the Kotla Test meandering towards a draw. A heavy Sunday lunch accompanied by the laidback artistry of Sourav Ganguly and VVS Laxman leads one into a heavenly state of mind, a regal sense of calm. All was well with the world. India had saved the game and were going to Nagpur needing only a draw to regain the Border-Gavaskar Trophy. Then it happened. A small message flashed on the score ticker. ‘Anil Kumble has announced his retirement from international cricket’. I was rudely shaken out of my stupor. I stared at the screen, dumbfounded.
You know the inevitable was coming. That it had to happen. You even know it was probably the right time. Yet one part of you hoped that it be postponed for one more series, then one more . . . A Test match without Anil Kumble? More than that, a home Test match without Anil Kumble? Since the time I was about eight years old, I have been used to seeing this guy doing duty for Team India. I remember I used to mimic his run-up of those days. An index finger would rise to prop up the spectacles on his nose, a hand would fiddle with the front of the India jersey, a twirl of the ball in his hands and off he would go on that peculiar run-up of his, taking frog-like hops on the way.
He was like money in a state-run bank. Ball after ball, over after over. How many times have we seen him return figures like 31-6-77-2, on the first day of a Test? He holds the record for the most number of leg before and caught and bowled dismissals in Tests. This is because he was always at the batsmen, forcing them to play. As a batsman, you were never ‘in’ against Kumble.
Yes, his googly turned more than his leg break. He seldom mesmerised the batsmen like Shane Warne. He could never have bowled the Ball of The Century. But that’s the problem with cricket. Results do matter. But many times, it’s the manner in which a result is achieved that seems to matter as much as, if not more than the end result itself. It’s not enough if you have 619 Test wickets. It’s not enough if you have been the stock as well as the strike bowler for your team for most of your career. Where’s the classical leg-spinner’s loop, critics asked? Where’s the turn, they asked? Why does it need to turn eight inches when all it requires is a couple of inches of deviation to take the edge, Anil countered? They ridiculed the man’s means, but he pointed towards his record, and they had to accept grudgingly.
For eighteen long years, Anil with the ball in hand was a man possessed, refusing to give in. Nothing could stop him. Not even a broken jaw. But of late, the load had started to take its toll. The returns were diminishing, the effort was unwavering though. The body had begun to give in, though the mind refused to give up. But Matthew Hayden had other ideas. Kumble thought he had a chance to catch the brute of a drive off Hayden’s blade. The resulting eleven stitches on his little finger hastened the end. He was too proud a performer to foist himself as a passenger on the team. At the Kotla, time stood still as Jumbo took the field for one last time. One’s eyes were moist as India’s highest wicket in both forms of the game took a lap of his favourite arena.
The first of the Fab Five departs. That last catch off Mitchell Johnson will forever remain etched in memory. Shabbash Anil bhai!
You know the inevitable was coming. That it had to happen. You even know it was probably the right time. Yet one part of you hoped that it be postponed for one more series, then one more . . . A Test match without Anil Kumble? More than that, a home Test match without Anil Kumble? Since the time I was about eight years old, I have been used to seeing this guy doing duty for Team India. I remember I used to mimic his run-up of those days. An index finger would rise to prop up the spectacles on his nose, a hand would fiddle with the front of the India jersey, a twirl of the ball in his hands and off he would go on that peculiar run-up of his, taking frog-like hops on the way.
He was like money in a state-run bank. Ball after ball, over after over. How many times have we seen him return figures like 31-6-77-2, on the first day of a Test? He holds the record for the most number of leg before and caught and bowled dismissals in Tests. This is because he was always at the batsmen, forcing them to play. As a batsman, you were never ‘in’ against Kumble.
Yes, his googly turned more than his leg break. He seldom mesmerised the batsmen like Shane Warne. He could never have bowled the Ball of The Century. But that’s the problem with cricket. Results do matter. But many times, it’s the manner in which a result is achieved that seems to matter as much as, if not more than the end result itself. It’s not enough if you have 619 Test wickets. It’s not enough if you have been the stock as well as the strike bowler for your team for most of your career. Where’s the classical leg-spinner’s loop, critics asked? Where’s the turn, they asked? Why does it need to turn eight inches when all it requires is a couple of inches of deviation to take the edge, Anil countered? They ridiculed the man’s means, but he pointed towards his record, and they had to accept grudgingly.
For eighteen long years, Anil with the ball in hand was a man possessed, refusing to give in. Nothing could stop him. Not even a broken jaw. But of late, the load had started to take its toll. The returns were diminishing, the effort was unwavering though. The body had begun to give in, though the mind refused to give up. But Matthew Hayden had other ideas. Kumble thought he had a chance to catch the brute of a drive off Hayden’s blade. The resulting eleven stitches on his little finger hastened the end. He was too proud a performer to foist himself as a passenger on the team. At the Kotla, time stood still as Jumbo took the field for one last time. One’s eyes were moist as India’s highest wicket in both forms of the game took a lap of his favourite arena.
The first of the Fab Five departs. That last catch off Mitchell Johnson will forever remain etched in memory. Shabbash Anil bhai!
Friday, 31 October 2008
Time for some perspective
We in India are experts at jumping the gun. We are the absolute masters of knee-jerk reactions. We revel in suggesting instanteneous 'solutions' to contrived 'issues'. I sometimes envy journalists who write on cricket for a living. Some job, this! Getting paid to criticise some of the finest men ever to play the game, and that too on flimsy grounds, most of the time. Take the case of VVS Laxman. The man has cranked out more than 6,000 Test runs in all sorts of conditions at a more than healthy average in the mid-40s. He's had a part to play in many significant victories for Team India over the years. And the poor guy has done all that under the threat of the proverbial sword dangling over his neck all the time. One small mistake, and the knives come out. I somehow could never understand how he was deemed 'unfit' for limited overs cricket, when he had the capacity to make three centuries in that format in the space of a week in Australia in 2003-04. Similarly I am at a loss to understand the section of the media which said till recently that he should be dropped. And why? So that India could play three spinners at the Kotla. Whom were they counting on to make the runs? Their current darling Dhoni? Laxman has made them eat their words after his thrilling double century. So what now? In the perfect knee-jerk reaction possible, its now being suggested that VVS should be promoted up the order to bat at No. 3. Pray, what about poor Rahul Dravid? Where do they think he's made all those 10,000 Test runs? At No. 7? It would be laughable if it weren't so downright stupid. The logic being offered is that the No. 3 batsman needs to 'set the pace' for the innings, something 'slow' Dravid cannot, they feel. These people forget that this was the Kotla wicket, where even Anil Kumble almost managed a half-century. We'll see who 'sets the pace' on the tour to New Zealand next year. Its excusable if the general public makes such comments. They are after all not supposed to know the nuances of the game. But professional journalists who work for respectable names in the media are supposed to know that this is Test cricket. This is not two-minute instant noodles. Where's the perspective, guys? What next? My guess is next time Harbhajan Singh gets a half-century, they'll suggest that India drop Dravid and go in with five bowlers, now that 'all-rounder' Bhajji can bat at No. 7!
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
The Era of the Master
Despite being an incorrigible late riser, the unearthly 2.30 am IST start to the US Open men's singles final did not seem to matter to me. The fact that I had had a painful tooth removal barely 12 hours ago did not seem to matter as well, although the jaw hurt dully when I was awakened by the alarm. The clock showed 2.35 am. I switched on the telly. The match had just started, the score reading 1-1. Thereafter, everything stopped mattering.
It was only Him, the Master, lording it over the Arthur Ashe arena, holding it spellbound with one of the most aggressive displays of tennis I have seen in recent years. It was not the brutal kind of massacre that Rafael Nadal uses to butcher opponents, it was like a surgeon going to battle. It was understated effrontery, a luxury which is available only to Him. You could almost feel for poor Andy Murray. A Grand Slam final involves the presumption of a contest. Here, he was reduced to a mere participant. Oh yes, he also had the best view in the stadium, to watch Him at his lucid, poetic best. The inside-out forehand, the beautiful backhand, the feline movements, it was tempting to call it perfect.
The man has now won 13 of the last 22 Grand Slams, reaching the final in 4 of the remaining 9, and the semi-final in 3 of the balance 5. Has dominance ever been more complete? Has there ever been a more enchanting backhand? Has there ever been a more vicious inside-out forehand? Has there ever been a humbler Champion? And lastly, has a Champion ever had a successor worthier than Rafael Nadal?
Ye all, we are fortunate to be living in the era of Federer.
It was only Him, the Master, lording it over the Arthur Ashe arena, holding it spellbound with one of the most aggressive displays of tennis I have seen in recent years. It was not the brutal kind of massacre that Rafael Nadal uses to butcher opponents, it was like a surgeon going to battle. It was understated effrontery, a luxury which is available only to Him. You could almost feel for poor Andy Murray. A Grand Slam final involves the presumption of a contest. Here, he was reduced to a mere participant. Oh yes, he also had the best view in the stadium, to watch Him at his lucid, poetic best. The inside-out forehand, the beautiful backhand, the feline movements, it was tempting to call it perfect.
The man has now won 13 of the last 22 Grand Slams, reaching the final in 4 of the remaining 9, and the semi-final in 3 of the balance 5. Has dominance ever been more complete? Has there ever been a more enchanting backhand? Has there ever been a more vicious inside-out forehand? Has there ever been a humbler Champion? And lastly, has a Champion ever had a successor worthier than Rafael Nadal?
Ye all, we are fortunate to be living in the era of Federer.
Monday, 14 July 2008
Guts and Glory
The sun shone down mercilessly. The May humidity was too much to bear. Sitting on the windswept thirteenth floor terrace of the building, she wondered how she would surmount the humongous mountain in front of her. Wasn't there a better place to do this, she thought? But in her heart, she knew there was none. It had to be done here, of all places.
For an agonising four months, she had to endure the torture that was the climate on the terrace. Her health already beset with problems galore compounded by the hostile environment at home, she braced herself for the task. At times, the mosaic flooring on the terrace gleamed so much in the sunshine that she could not see anything. Her skin ravaged by sun burn, she plodded on. At times, her frail health could no longer shoulder the burden. But she plodded on, knowing that this was her only chance. This was where emancipation lay. Pain killing injections temporarily numbed her senses to pain. Determination bordering on obstinacy did the rest.
Then came the day that would reveal whether all her labours had been in vain or otherwise. The computer screen was blank. Then suddenly it appeared. Pooja Purohit. Group-I 'PASS'. Group-II 'PASS'. She had done it! She was now a Chartered Accountant, having cleared the final hurdle in her first attempt. It would take a while to sink in.
She cast a glance at the terrace, now under siege from the monsoon clouds. "I did it all up there?", she asked in disbelief. Yes, I said. Glory is thine today, my beloved sister. Take a bow. This is your moment. Entirely yours.
For an agonising four months, she had to endure the torture that was the climate on the terrace. Her health already beset with problems galore compounded by the hostile environment at home, she braced herself for the task. At times, the mosaic flooring on the terrace gleamed so much in the sunshine that she could not see anything. Her skin ravaged by sun burn, she plodded on. At times, her frail health could no longer shoulder the burden. But she plodded on, knowing that this was her only chance. This was where emancipation lay. Pain killing injections temporarily numbed her senses to pain. Determination bordering on obstinacy did the rest.
Then came the day that would reveal whether all her labours had been in vain or otherwise. The computer screen was blank. Then suddenly it appeared. Pooja Purohit. Group-I 'PASS'. Group-II 'PASS'. She had done it! She was now a Chartered Accountant, having cleared the final hurdle in her first attempt. It would take a while to sink in.
She cast a glance at the terrace, now under siege from the monsoon clouds. "I did it all up there?", she asked in disbelief. Yes, I said. Glory is thine today, my beloved sister. Take a bow. This is your moment. Entirely yours.
Monday, 7 July 2008
The Master vanquished; the Kingdom lost
A pall of gloom has descended over our household. The perennially blaring TV is conspicuously switched off. My sis is noticeably more irritable than usual. My mom is so morose you can feel something has horribly gone wrong. No one can reconcile to the fact that Roger Federer has been dislodged from the Wimbledon throne.
All these years, Federer towered head and shoulders above the others. No doubt this generation has seen some very fine players. Hewitt, Safin, Davydenko, Roddick (who is possibly the greatest server of a tennis ball the world has seen), but they merely provided context to the occassion. It was always Federer the Master lording it over all.
Since the time Rafael Nadal stormed onto the scene in 2005 by winning the French Open, Federer and Nadal have shared a staggering 13 of the last 14 Grand Slams. Of the 14, they have contested each other in 7 finals. Nadal has won 4 of the them now. One is tempted to ask, is Federer's exalted status amplified by the fact that all these years, he has had no challenger worthy of taking the fight to him? No one, until this baby faced assassin from Spain came along, with all the spunk and guts of a bull fighter.
And suddenly, Federer forgets how to convert break points. In yesterday's final, he converted one out of 13 break points. Suddenly, his serve seems vulnerable, despite sending down over 25 aces in the match. Each time he holds, a relieved Vijay Amritraj gasps,"And Federer manages to hold on". Suddenly he is no longer setting the pace. The pace is being set by Nadal. And it is so furious and ferocious a pace that the Master seems perturbed. Like all greats, Federer doesn't like being hurried. He's used to dictating the points. No doubt, he can strike with the speed of a viper when needed, but he decides the timing. He seems hassled, even irritated, while Nadal runs all around the court like a terrier out of control, retrieving and returning all that Federer can throw at him. At 5-2 in the 4th set tiebreak, it seems all over for the defending champion. But even Rafa can have a bout of nerves, or so it seems. He serves up a double fault. Some vintage stuff from the Master allows him to survive, but only just. Nadal has 2 championship points. The beautiful backhand conjures up some magic yet again. And suddenly, Federer has the 4th set. There's hope still. He seems strangely reluctant to take the fight to Nadal in the 5th set, seemingly content holding on to his own serve. Or is it that try hard as he might, the Nadal serve won't be broken today? Nadal's 2nd serve is more vicious than the 1st, kicking high into the backhand corner. Like a machine, he keeps pinging Federer's comparatively weaker backhand to the extent that when presented with a rare forehand opportunity, the Master is so overeager that he pulls it wide. Again and again.
All through the match, Federer has played catch up. It ends when he no longer can. Nadal meanwhile could have gone on for another five sets. Its all over. The emperor has been vanquished in his own den. In the stands, Bjorn Borg can breathe easy that his record of five consecutive Wimbledon titles still stands.
For the first time in six years, 'R Federer' won't be there on the honour list. It will be 'R Nadal' instead. A sun rises in the east. Another has probably started its descent towards the west. The setting sun always seems more beautiful, more poignant . . . more romantic. You want it to hang around for that much longer. But the rising sun carries more potential and shines brighter. Am I jumping the gun? Is the era of the Swiss Master beginning to end? Time is the best judge.
All these years, Federer towered head and shoulders above the others. No doubt this generation has seen some very fine players. Hewitt, Safin, Davydenko, Roddick (who is possibly the greatest server of a tennis ball the world has seen), but they merely provided context to the occassion. It was always Federer the Master lording it over all.
Since the time Rafael Nadal stormed onto the scene in 2005 by winning the French Open, Federer and Nadal have shared a staggering 13 of the last 14 Grand Slams. Of the 14, they have contested each other in 7 finals. Nadal has won 4 of the them now. One is tempted to ask, is Federer's exalted status amplified by the fact that all these years, he has had no challenger worthy of taking the fight to him? No one, until this baby faced assassin from Spain came along, with all the spunk and guts of a bull fighter.
And suddenly, Federer forgets how to convert break points. In yesterday's final, he converted one out of 13 break points. Suddenly, his serve seems vulnerable, despite sending down over 25 aces in the match. Each time he holds, a relieved Vijay Amritraj gasps,"And Federer manages to hold on". Suddenly he is no longer setting the pace. The pace is being set by Nadal. And it is so furious and ferocious a pace that the Master seems perturbed. Like all greats, Federer doesn't like being hurried. He's used to dictating the points. No doubt, he can strike with the speed of a viper when needed, but he decides the timing. He seems hassled, even irritated, while Nadal runs all around the court like a terrier out of control, retrieving and returning all that Federer can throw at him. At 5-2 in the 4th set tiebreak, it seems all over for the defending champion. But even Rafa can have a bout of nerves, or so it seems. He serves up a double fault. Some vintage stuff from the Master allows him to survive, but only just. Nadal has 2 championship points. The beautiful backhand conjures up some magic yet again. And suddenly, Federer has the 4th set. There's hope still. He seems strangely reluctant to take the fight to Nadal in the 5th set, seemingly content holding on to his own serve. Or is it that try hard as he might, the Nadal serve won't be broken today? Nadal's 2nd serve is more vicious than the 1st, kicking high into the backhand corner. Like a machine, he keeps pinging Federer's comparatively weaker backhand to the extent that when presented with a rare forehand opportunity, the Master is so overeager that he pulls it wide. Again and again.
All through the match, Federer has played catch up. It ends when he no longer can. Nadal meanwhile could have gone on for another five sets. Its all over. The emperor has been vanquished in his own den. In the stands, Bjorn Borg can breathe easy that his record of five consecutive Wimbledon titles still stands.
For the first time in six years, 'R Federer' won't be there on the honour list. It will be 'R Nadal' instead. A sun rises in the east. Another has probably started its descent towards the west. The setting sun always seems more beautiful, more poignant . . . more romantic. You want it to hang around for that much longer. But the rising sun carries more potential and shines brighter. Am I jumping the gun? Is the era of the Swiss Master beginning to end? Time is the best judge.
Monday, 23 June 2008
That heady feeling . . .
What is love? Is it that warm, heady feeling that overtakes you when you think about that someone special? Is it that sweet pain in your heart which accompanies that heady feeling? How does love 'happen'? Is it gradual or spontaneous? Can you love someone whom you have not met much, only heard about? Is being 'friends' necessary, before falling in love? If that is so, does love at first sight exist only in romance novels?
Imagine you have met someone only briefly, long ago, but even for that one fleeting moment, that person ignited a spark inside you. More importantly, years after that chance meeting, you remember that person and the spark he or she caused quite vividly. All these years later, after being reminded about that person casually by a common friend, you suddenly find that spark reigniting inside you. Is it physical attraction? No, you haven't even met that person in years. Is it infatuation? Maybe. Maybe not. Is it love? The heart says it is. Does the heart know? Par Dil Toh Pagal Hai. Or is it?
Imagine you have met someone only briefly, long ago, but even for that one fleeting moment, that person ignited a spark inside you. More importantly, years after that chance meeting, you remember that person and the spark he or she caused quite vividly. All these years later, after being reminded about that person casually by a common friend, you suddenly find that spark reigniting inside you. Is it physical attraction? No, you haven't even met that person in years. Is it infatuation? Maybe. Maybe not. Is it love? The heart says it is. Does the heart know? Par Dil Toh Pagal Hai. Or is it?
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Pink City bloodied
Yet another series of blasts. Yet another set of innocent people killed. Yet another city targeted, this time the capital of Rajasthan, Jaipur. There'll be yet another announcement of it being the handiwork of 'terrorists'. Yet another state of 'high alert' will be declared across major cities. There will be the mandatory condemnations from politicians, followed by the customary announcement of 'compensation' by the Government for the kin of the victims. The media will chase the 'story' for a couple of days or so. And then life will be normal, as usual, normal for everybody but those affected directly by the blasts.
Every few months or so, a new city is targeted. But we refuse to improve. It took one 9/11 for the United States of America to completely overhaul its internal security set-up. New legislation was enacted and the authorities were given sweeping powers. The result is there for all to see. The US is a safer place today. There have been instances of abuse of power and racial profiling, but that is inevitable and unfortunately a price that a few have to pay so that innocent lives are saved. But India is a different story. Here, there is no regard for two things. People and their time. Both are expendable commodities. Kya farak padta hai? 1.2 billion mein se kuchh log kam ho jaayenge na, bas? Why can't our police force be modernised? Numerous Police Commission reports screaming for reform in the force have been gathering dust for decades. Recently, the Central Reserve Police Force ('CRPF'), which is responsible for counter-Naxalite operations, had its demand for a separate intelligence wing turned down for the umpteenth time by the Finance Ministry which said that it should rely on intelligence gathered by the local police instead. No wonder we continue to remain a soft target for terrorists. What a shame!
Every few months or so, a new city is targeted. But we refuse to improve. It took one 9/11 for the United States of America to completely overhaul its internal security set-up. New legislation was enacted and the authorities were given sweeping powers. The result is there for all to see. The US is a safer place today. There have been instances of abuse of power and racial profiling, but that is inevitable and unfortunately a price that a few have to pay so that innocent lives are saved. But India is a different story. Here, there is no regard for two things. People and their time. Both are expendable commodities. Kya farak padta hai? 1.2 billion mein se kuchh log kam ho jaayenge na, bas? Why can't our police force be modernised? Numerous Police Commission reports screaming for reform in the force have been gathering dust for decades. Recently, the Central Reserve Police Force ('CRPF'), which is responsible for counter-Naxalite operations, had its demand for a separate intelligence wing turned down for the umpteenth time by the Finance Ministry which said that it should rely on intelligence gathered by the local police instead. No wonder we continue to remain a soft target for terrorists. What a shame!
Wednesday, 9 April 2008
The Massacre of 2008, at Motera
Its hilarious to see how our electronic media, wearing its patriotism on its sleeve, has christened the current India-South Africa Test series as 'India's Race To No.1', 'Climb To The Top' and such other assorted taglines. Considering that the only race in which the Indian batsmen seemed interested at Ahmedabad was the one that led back to the dressing room.
How short public memory is! One triple century sends us to the moon and barely a week later a collective effort of 76 brings us crashing down from orbit. However, there is one thing that this debacle should teach us. And that is to stop comparing India with the Australian team, once and for all. You would never catch the Aussies oscillating between 627 and 76 all out in the matter of 2 innings. In fact both innings followed a similar pattern. At Chennai, it was the Sehwag show all the way. Once he departed, the curtains came down pretty quickly, with the rest of the team barely putting on another 150 runs. Take out Dravid's contribution on the 4th day, and that leaves us with barely over 100 runs contributed by as many as 8 batsmen. At the Motera, 11 batsmen made 76. Not a very drastic drop in performance, you can see!
Dale Steyn stated the obvious when he said that after the first couple of wickets fell, the incoming batsmen were totally clueless and did not know what to do. Its not as if this line-up cannot play in swinging and seaming conditions (The historic wins at Headingley 2002, Trent Bridge 2007, Johannesburg 2007 and Perth 2008 prove that). This Indian team - which has won more overseas Tests than all other Indian teams preceding it collectively managed to - displays a great level of intensity playing abroad which it has surprisingly not been able to replicate in India. Its almost as if it 'demands' batting beauties shorn of all grass at home. If we seriously harbour any intentions of being No. 1 in the world, we'll have to stop paying so much attention to the 22 yards.
P.S.: Please, can somebody tell MS Dhoni that attack, relentless, reckless attack is not always the best form of defence?
How short public memory is! One triple century sends us to the moon and barely a week later a collective effort of 76 brings us crashing down from orbit. However, there is one thing that this debacle should teach us. And that is to stop comparing India with the Australian team, once and for all. You would never catch the Aussies oscillating between 627 and 76 all out in the matter of 2 innings. In fact both innings followed a similar pattern. At Chennai, it was the Sehwag show all the way. Once he departed, the curtains came down pretty quickly, with the rest of the team barely putting on another 150 runs. Take out Dravid's contribution on the 4th day, and that leaves us with barely over 100 runs contributed by as many as 8 batsmen. At the Motera, 11 batsmen made 76. Not a very drastic drop in performance, you can see!
Dale Steyn stated the obvious when he said that after the first couple of wickets fell, the incoming batsmen were totally clueless and did not know what to do. Its not as if this line-up cannot play in swinging and seaming conditions (The historic wins at Headingley 2002, Trent Bridge 2007, Johannesburg 2007 and Perth 2008 prove that). This Indian team - which has won more overseas Tests than all other Indian teams preceding it collectively managed to - displays a great level of intensity playing abroad which it has surprisingly not been able to replicate in India. Its almost as if it 'demands' batting beauties shorn of all grass at home. If we seriously harbour any intentions of being No. 1 in the world, we'll have to stop paying so much attention to the 22 yards.
P.S.: Please, can somebody tell MS Dhoni that attack, relentless, reckless attack is not always the best form of defence?
Monday, 31 March 2008
Virender Sehwag: Attempting the impossible, regularly
I remember reading Rajan Bala on Sunil Gavaskar's epic 221 against England at the Oval in 1979. Set an improbable 438 to win, Sunny's monumental effort took India to within 9 runs of the target. Unfortunately, he got run out and the other batsmen weren't quite up to the task. Bala feels that Sunny produced that innings in order to prove a point. That he was the only batsman in India at that time who could do the impossible. Watching Virender Sehwag become only the 3rd batsman in history to produce two Test triple centuries, Bala's words rang clear in my mind.
Yes, we do have the Greatest Batting Line-Up In The WorldTM. We have a guy who has the most international runs and the most international hundreds. We have the most successful No. 3 batsman in the history of the game. We have two sublime artists who can bring tears to your eyes as they effortlessly transcend technique while weaving their magic, one on the off side, the other on the on. But wait a minute. Which of these guys would try to hit a six when batting on 95, then again on 99, then again on 193, then again on 291, then again . . . Nobody. Nobody apart from Virender Sehwag.
Even in this pack of shining gladiators, he is the only one who can perform the most impossible feats with outrageous regularity. His last 10 Test tons have all been in excess of 150, a record. And yet we dare to drop the man, in a year in which he averaged almost 40 in Tests.
In fact, India as a country has never quite understood the man. Its not hard to understand why. As a culture, we are risk averse. Right from childhood, we are taught to be 'on the safe side'. We grow up and choose 'safe and secure' professions like engineering, management and medicine. Safety and security matter more to us than risk and adventure. No wonder we have the one of the highest household savings rates in the world. That is why, when an adventurer like Sehwag comes along, we are thrilled to watch him, for he can effortlessly do what we cannot even dare to think about. But because he is so different, he is also criticised easily. I remember at Melbourne in 2003, he got out on 195 at the fag end of the day. How? Trying to hit a six to get to his double. The next day, India were shot out for 366, when it could have been much more. I recall how the experts had hammered Sehwag, calling him irresponsible and such other names. Hello! Wait a minute! Hadn't he got 195 out of a total of 366 playing in that risk-taking manner? Was it his fault that the middle order caved in? Lets give the man his due. You love it when his square drive screams just past the desperately diving point fielder. You love it when he daringly upper cuts for a six despite there being a third man in place for precisely that kind of shot. So why grudge the man when he falls going for another one of those spectacular shots? Not that it matters to Sehwag, though. He cannot understand the fuss people make about his style of playing. To him, risk taking comes naturally. Thats how he grew up playing. Thats what got him into the Indian team. Thats how he'll always play, no matter what the situation. And thats what is so exciting to watch! Amidst all the hoopla over laptops and analysis and 'process', cricket still remains a game between bat and ball. So lets enjoy it that way. Like Viru puts it, "If ball is there to hit, I will hit it". Hit it Viru! Hit it out of the ground! Hit it in the air! Exasperate those purists, over and over again.
Yes, we do have the Greatest Batting Line-Up In The WorldTM. We have a guy who has the most international runs and the most international hundreds. We have the most successful No. 3 batsman in the history of the game. We have two sublime artists who can bring tears to your eyes as they effortlessly transcend technique while weaving their magic, one on the off side, the other on the on. But wait a minute. Which of these guys would try to hit a six when batting on 95, then again on 99, then again on 193, then again on 291, then again . . . Nobody. Nobody apart from Virender Sehwag.
Even in this pack of shining gladiators, he is the only one who can perform the most impossible feats with outrageous regularity. His last 10 Test tons have all been in excess of 150, a record. And yet we dare to drop the man, in a year in which he averaged almost 40 in Tests.
In fact, India as a country has never quite understood the man. Its not hard to understand why. As a culture, we are risk averse. Right from childhood, we are taught to be 'on the safe side'. We grow up and choose 'safe and secure' professions like engineering, management and medicine. Safety and security matter more to us than risk and adventure. No wonder we have the one of the highest household savings rates in the world. That is why, when an adventurer like Sehwag comes along, we are thrilled to watch him, for he can effortlessly do what we cannot even dare to think about. But because he is so different, he is also criticised easily. I remember at Melbourne in 2003, he got out on 195 at the fag end of the day. How? Trying to hit a six to get to his double. The next day, India were shot out for 366, when it could have been much more. I recall how the experts had hammered Sehwag, calling him irresponsible and such other names. Hello! Wait a minute! Hadn't he got 195 out of a total of 366 playing in that risk-taking manner? Was it his fault that the middle order caved in? Lets give the man his due. You love it when his square drive screams just past the desperately diving point fielder. You love it when he daringly upper cuts for a six despite there being a third man in place for precisely that kind of shot. So why grudge the man when he falls going for another one of those spectacular shots? Not that it matters to Sehwag, though. He cannot understand the fuss people make about his style of playing. To him, risk taking comes naturally. Thats how he grew up playing. Thats what got him into the Indian team. Thats how he'll always play, no matter what the situation. And thats what is so exciting to watch! Amidst all the hoopla over laptops and analysis and 'process', cricket still remains a game between bat and ball. So lets enjoy it that way. Like Viru puts it, "If ball is there to hit, I will hit it". Hit it Viru! Hit it out of the ground! Hit it in the air! Exasperate those purists, over and over again.
Gilly walks - this time forever
How does one begin to describe what Adam Craig Gilchrist meant to the game of cricket? Statistics might lie sometimes, but in his case, they do communicate most of the story. More than 5,000 Test runs at the mind-boggling average of almost 48, considering that he batted as low down the order as No. 7. Most dismissals by a wicket-keeper in Tests, though Mark Boucher eventually went past that record. More than 9,000 runs in ODIs at that explosive strike rate of his. But as always, there is more to the man than statistics might tell us. And that is, you could never slot him into any category. Try it and the next instance, he would wriggle out of it with the ease which he displayed while rescuing Australia from innumerable tight situations while batting.
When he emerged on the scene in ODIs, he was branded a hitter at first. The consistency which accompanied his explosiveness soon made people realise he was much more than that. The purists pontificated that he would find the going tough in Tests due to his penchant for dare-devilry. In only his second Test, he produced an effort that must surely go down as one of the finest 4th innings performances. I daresay due credit and coverage has not been accorded to that unbeaten Gilchrist century at Hobart against Pakistan in 1999. And to think that it came after Australia were 126/5 chasing 369 against an attack that read Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Shoaib Akhtar and Saqlain Mushtaq. On the 'keeping front, Gilly had the huge shoes of Ian Healy to fill in. Never a natural, it is a tribute to his dedication and perseverance that he eventually accounted for 416 dismissals. Also tells you about the discipline of the Aussie attack over the years that so many chances came his way behind the stumps.
Just when you felt that Gilly was going down the hill, he responded in typical fashion, like when he authored that monumental 149 in the 2007 World Cup final, after having done precious little with the bat in the tournament till then. Gilly's hitting was never desperate, in fact, it seemed so natural that you could almost call it artistic, if such brutality can be called that.
And then there was the human side. In an Aussie side that prided itself on its bluster and macho aggression, Gilly took time to shed a few tears, every now and then. Picture him tightly embracing Justin Langer at the last Ashes Test, which was Langer's farewell one. Picture him hugging Anil Kumble at his own farewell Test at Adelaide. By his own admission, he is a very emotional person. And isn't ashamed of showing them once in a while. In an Aussie side that plays the game 'hard', Gilly had the guts to walk. In a World Cup semi-final. Beat that. However, he could also appeal for a catch that clearly wasn't one, against Rahul Dravid at Sydney. That was Gilly. Beyond definitions. Incapable of being slotted into some category. All by himself. The best 'keeper-batsman ever. And a great human being. Farewell Gilly. There'll never be another like you. Never ever.
When he emerged on the scene in ODIs, he was branded a hitter at first. The consistency which accompanied his explosiveness soon made people realise he was much more than that. The purists pontificated that he would find the going tough in Tests due to his penchant for dare-devilry. In only his second Test, he produced an effort that must surely go down as one of the finest 4th innings performances. I daresay due credit and coverage has not been accorded to that unbeaten Gilchrist century at Hobart against Pakistan in 1999. And to think that it came after Australia were 126/5 chasing 369 against an attack that read Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis, Shoaib Akhtar and Saqlain Mushtaq. On the 'keeping front, Gilly had the huge shoes of Ian Healy to fill in. Never a natural, it is a tribute to his dedication and perseverance that he eventually accounted for 416 dismissals. Also tells you about the discipline of the Aussie attack over the years that so many chances came his way behind the stumps.
Just when you felt that Gilly was going down the hill, he responded in typical fashion, like when he authored that monumental 149 in the 2007 World Cup final, after having done precious little with the bat in the tournament till then. Gilly's hitting was never desperate, in fact, it seemed so natural that you could almost call it artistic, if such brutality can be called that.
And then there was the human side. In an Aussie side that prided itself on its bluster and macho aggression, Gilly took time to shed a few tears, every now and then. Picture him tightly embracing Justin Langer at the last Ashes Test, which was Langer's farewell one. Picture him hugging Anil Kumble at his own farewell Test at Adelaide. By his own admission, he is a very emotional person. And isn't ashamed of showing them once in a while. In an Aussie side that plays the game 'hard', Gilly had the guts to walk. In a World Cup semi-final. Beat that. However, he could also appeal for a catch that clearly wasn't one, against Rahul Dravid at Sydney. That was Gilly. Beyond definitions. Incapable of being slotted into some category. All by himself. The best 'keeper-batsman ever. And a great human being. Farewell Gilly. There'll never be another like you. Never ever.
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
Lets salute Anil the leader
Lets go back to late 2007. Arch rivals Pakistan were just about to come to India in some days and Rahul Dravid, who had just led India to a historic series win in England, had decided he had had enough of the pressures of captaincy. To make matters worse, after 'due consideration', Sachin Tendulkar too declined to become the captain. The jury was still out on whether MS Dhoni had matured enough to be handed the Test reins especially in light of the then impending tour Down Under. Erring on the side of caution, India's selectors handed the captaincy to Anil Kumble, for the 'time being'.
Retrograde step, screamed the 'experts'. Two steps backward for Indian cricket, they claimed. High on the recent T20 glory, they felt that Dhoni was being 'denied' the Test captaincy. Agreed, MSD together with Yuvraj Singh is the future of Indian cricket. But just look at how poor old Kumble was treated. Rather than being lauded for having the guts to take the responsibility when everyone else had shunned it, it was almost as if he had been made a 'trustee' in charge of a heirloom (the captaincy) to keep it safe until the 'beneficiary' Dhoni could rightfully claim it.
Now lets take a look at what transpired in Australia. 'Fort' Perth was conquered. And none other than Sunil Gavaskar hailed it as India's greatest win in the past 35-40 years. Which pretty much makes it the greatest because before 1971, we didn't use to win anything. No one gave India a hell of a chance to win at Perth, of all places, and that too after the events at Sydney.
So the entire team played well. Whats Anil got to do with that? A lot! Ravi Shastri made the point that he knew 3-4 guys in the current team who wouldn't have been able to handle the situation in Sydney as well as Anil did, if they had been in his place. It has been a gargantuan effort from Anil. First, he made the entire cricketing world sit up and take notice by saying that there was only one team that was playing in the spirit of the game. Its not hard to see why that statement made so much of an impact. The last time such a statement like this was made was during the Bodyline series in the 1930s, by the Australian captain when Englishman Larwood was maiming and injuring Aussie batsmen with short pitched bowling. Thats all it took from Anil's side. One strong sentence. No shenanigans. No posturing. Moreover, it is to his eternal credit that he maintained his dignity all along. And on top of that, to get the team out of the "We have been betrayed" mindset and get them to play with such intensity speaks volumes about the mental strength of the man. Lets hear it for Jumbo then!
Retrograde step, screamed the 'experts'. Two steps backward for Indian cricket, they claimed. High on the recent T20 glory, they felt that Dhoni was being 'denied' the Test captaincy. Agreed, MSD together with Yuvraj Singh is the future of Indian cricket. But just look at how poor old Kumble was treated. Rather than being lauded for having the guts to take the responsibility when everyone else had shunned it, it was almost as if he had been made a 'trustee' in charge of a heirloom (the captaincy) to keep it safe until the 'beneficiary' Dhoni could rightfully claim it.
Now lets take a look at what transpired in Australia. 'Fort' Perth was conquered. And none other than Sunil Gavaskar hailed it as India's greatest win in the past 35-40 years. Which pretty much makes it the greatest because before 1971, we didn't use to win anything. No one gave India a hell of a chance to win at Perth, of all places, and that too after the events at Sydney.
So the entire team played well. Whats Anil got to do with that? A lot! Ravi Shastri made the point that he knew 3-4 guys in the current team who wouldn't have been able to handle the situation in Sydney as well as Anil did, if they had been in his place. It has been a gargantuan effort from Anil. First, he made the entire cricketing world sit up and take notice by saying that there was only one team that was playing in the spirit of the game. Its not hard to see why that statement made so much of an impact. The last time such a statement like this was made was during the Bodyline series in the 1930s, by the Australian captain when Englishman Larwood was maiming and injuring Aussie batsmen with short pitched bowling. Thats all it took from Anil's side. One strong sentence. No shenanigans. No posturing. Moreover, it is to his eternal credit that he maintained his dignity all along. And on top of that, to get the team out of the "We have been betrayed" mindset and get them to play with such intensity speaks volumes about the mental strength of the man. Lets hear it for Jumbo then!
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
India All Out - C Bucknor B Benson
If seven out of eight umpiring errors go against a particular team (I am not even considering Lbws here), only a miracle could prevent it from ending up on the losing side. That India did should come as no surprise, but part of the blame must be also be shared by their by now almost predictable fourth innings collapse. That a team which boasts of the Greatest Batting Line-up In The WorldTM should capitulate in the fourth innings with such alarming regularity should be a cause of concern for the team management. Its happened too often now for it to be ignored. Sunil Gavaskar admitted as much during the tea interval on Day 5 at the SCG when he doubted the ability of this Indian team to stick it out for a draw. At that point of time, India had lost only 3 wickets, all legitimate mind you.
However, that does not take anything away from the fact that the umpiring reached its absolute nadir during this match to the extent that you were tempted to call it biased. Its a regular occurrence that umpires do not hear small nicks and edges in the din of packed stadiums, but the healthy edge that ensued from Andrew Symonds' bat could have been heard as far as Bowral and Canberra! And whoever heard of third umpires making such basic mistakes? I mean, if the foot is not grounded, you are out, as simple as that. 'Benefit of doubt' is given to the batsman when there is a 'doubt', in the first place. In Symonds' case, it was clear as daylight that his foot was in the air when the bails were removed.
As if this was not enough, India were really done in by some horrible umpiring after tea. Rahul Dravid was playing the spin of Symonds as it should be done on a fifth day turning pitch, from within the pads. It was clearly visible to the naked eye that bat was nowhere involved. Bucknor keeps coming up with such howlers against India, time and again. And lastly, the less said about Ganguly's decision, the better? For starters, the 'agreement' to take the fielding captain's word for catches was between Ponting and Kumble, not between the umpires and Ponting. If umpires start taking the fielding captain's word for catches, then we might as well dispense with them, and have an all-encompassing 'agreement' for matches, like the one between Ponting and Kumble, where the fielding captain's word will be taken for anything and everything. If there is even an iota of doubt, the third umpire has to be called in. Its high time that all the fancy technology on display be made available to the two men who matter in the middle.
One last word. For people like Nasser Hussain, who claimed that the Indians had lost his 'sympathy', for clamouring for the removal of Bucknor. If one side has lost confidence in an umpire (with some justification), regardless of his perceived ability and standing, how do you expect its bowlers to appeal to that particular umpire for him to make his decisions in the very next match? How are they to be convinced of his impartiality, when recent events have suggested that there is something lacking on that count?
However, that does not take anything away from the fact that the umpiring reached its absolute nadir during this match to the extent that you were tempted to call it biased. Its a regular occurrence that umpires do not hear small nicks and edges in the din of packed stadiums, but the healthy edge that ensued from Andrew Symonds' bat could have been heard as far as Bowral and Canberra! And whoever heard of third umpires making such basic mistakes? I mean, if the foot is not grounded, you are out, as simple as that. 'Benefit of doubt' is given to the batsman when there is a 'doubt', in the first place. In Symonds' case, it was clear as daylight that his foot was in the air when the bails were removed.
As if this was not enough, India were really done in by some horrible umpiring after tea. Rahul Dravid was playing the spin of Symonds as it should be done on a fifth day turning pitch, from within the pads. It was clearly visible to the naked eye that bat was nowhere involved. Bucknor keeps coming up with such howlers against India, time and again. And lastly, the less said about Ganguly's decision, the better? For starters, the 'agreement' to take the fielding captain's word for catches was between Ponting and Kumble, not between the umpires and Ponting. If umpires start taking the fielding captain's word for catches, then we might as well dispense with them, and have an all-encompassing 'agreement' for matches, like the one between Ponting and Kumble, where the fielding captain's word will be taken for anything and everything. If there is even an iota of doubt, the third umpire has to be called in. Its high time that all the fancy technology on display be made available to the two men who matter in the middle.
One last word. For people like Nasser Hussain, who claimed that the Indians had lost his 'sympathy', for clamouring for the removal of Bucknor. If one side has lost confidence in an umpire (with some justification), regardless of his perceived ability and standing, how do you expect its bowlers to appeal to that particular umpire for him to make his decisions in the very next match? How are they to be convinced of his impartiality, when recent events have suggested that there is something lacking on that count?
Tuesday, 1 January 2008
The travails of Rahul Dravid
A thousand gremlins seem to have inflicted the mind of Rahul Dravid, India's most reliable batsman over the past decade. The first casualty has been the attitude, which has become ultra-defensive to remind us of the days in the late 90s when he used to struggle to get the ball off the square. The next thing to suffer has been his footwork. This can be seen in the way he has been getting out in recent times, getting leg before or bowled while trying to play across the line. Another frequent manner in which he gets dismissed these days is when he goes leg before, getting caught on the crease to the incoming delivery. Now you would not expect a batsman of Rahul's class to get dismissed regularly playing across the line or half-cock. This is happening because the front foot which is normally mobile and enables transfer of weight easily is getting stuck in the crease with the effect that he has to play around it to execute his favourite on-drive. This leads to two things. One, because of the front foot being planted in the crease, the bat has to come down at a greater angle, probably from third slip or even gully, rather than first slip. Secondly, he tends to fall over while trying to execute the shot due to lack of balance. This ultimately leads to him missing more deliveries than usual and he gets bowled or leg before. Moreover, he has got into the habit of playing half-cock without going fully forward or fully backward getting trapped leg-before to the incoming delivery. This is more a direct fallout of the ultra-defensive mindset that he is in currently where he is looking to block even hittable deliveries. We all know Rahul has the mental strength to pull himself out of this rut. Lets hope it happens in Sydney.
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