Tendulkar: A blast of sunlight
Trying to read Tendulkar is like trying to read this voluminous book which you know you will never finish reading. Every word about the master would seem insufficient to describe his astonishing genius. However, for the sake of form, one shall simply recall one comment, made by blogger Soutik Biswas on the BBC website that opens a window to begin to describe the indescribable. Biswas wrote, within the hour of that gigantean knock of 200 that Tendulkar pummelled hapless the Springpoks with at Gwalior early this year, that what stands out about Tendulkar is the respect he has for the game.
Indeed, nothing could be truer than this: Tendulkar has enormous amounts of respect for cricket, the reason he has remained wholly unaffected by the madding hoopla that has always surrounded him. There is certainly something otherworldly about the grace with which he has played the game, and in this alone he matches the all-time cricket icon Don Bradman. He is at once a monarch and an ascetic.
What is brilliance if not this? Let's take two of Sachin's great batting contemporaries, Ponting and Sehwag (let's leave Mahela out just for the sake of brevity), to further illustrate this point. Ponting is doubtless one of the game's greatest batsmen. Every record, for instance, that Tendulkar has against his name is within Ponting's reach: that's how great he is. But, of course, Ponting doesn't have to deal with the delirious expectations that a billion people have of Tendulkar. Ponting doesn't have to take his family, like Tendulkar, to Iceland for a quiet holiday.
Ponting is, by a stretch, among the least likable characters of the game. His sledging is legendary and he has an air of a brat who will do worse if he could. He bats like a champion but his behaviour is adolescent. Unlike, for instance, some other Aussies, most notably that colossus Steve Waugh. And Tendulkar is greater than either. Tendulkar has been the perfect ambassador -- there's no escaping this cliché in reference to him -- of cricket, an inspiration even for those who have never played the game.
His acknowledgement of the love he has received from all Indians was evident when he dedicated his double hundred to the people of India. With that one remark, Tendulkar cemented further India's unity. And that is what makes him one of the rarest Indian heroes. On the field, he makes visible or tangible with his strokeplay -- like a great artist -- the loftiest laws of human activity in their relationship with spiritual and material forces. Off the field, he embodies their commingling, which produces the phenomena of life.
But let's not digress; let's take up the other phenomenon called Sehwag. That he is no less than Tendulkar in batting is to state the obvious. Sehwag is better than Ponting but short of Tendulkar for want of just one thing: Respect for the game. As a matter of fact, Sehwag has very little of it compared to Tendulkar, and this isn't to disparage Sehwag at all. It is Sehwag's lack of respect for the game that makes him falter embarrassingly at times. Tendulkar would never throw his wicket like the Sultan of Multan.
One can almost hear a forceful argument coming: Sehwag plays for the country and Tendulkar plays for himself. Wrong. Tendulkar once played for India, at times it did seem to the untrained eye that he played for himself, but what or who he has been playing against for the last couple of years -- may be more -- is himself. Tendulkar is in a different zone. In his mind he is like a golfer -- someone like Ballesteros. Two decades into the game, he has gone beyond playing cricket for anyone; his records and feats at the end of his incredible career will speak of this louder than anything else. He has conquered cricket with his respect and love for the game. And become its master.
So let's not ask how does Tendulkar do it. Let's just accept, to paraphrase the guru of cricket writing Peter Roebuck, that Tendulkar was born to outbat every other cricketer. He has lived in midst of a storm for twenty years and remained rooted, unscathed. This is why Tendulkar gets the sort of collective Indian adulation and fascination that no one else does.
Indeed, nothing could be truer than this: Tendulkar has enormous amounts of respect for cricket, the reason he has remained wholly unaffected by the madding hoopla that has always surrounded him. There is certainly something otherworldly about the grace with which he has played the game, and in this alone he matches the all-time cricket icon Don Bradman. He is at once a monarch and an ascetic.
What is brilliance if not this? Let's take two of Sachin's great batting contemporaries, Ponting and Sehwag (let's leave Mahela out just for the sake of brevity), to further illustrate this point. Ponting is doubtless one of the game's greatest batsmen. Every record, for instance, that Tendulkar has against his name is within Ponting's reach: that's how great he is. But, of course, Ponting doesn't have to deal with the delirious expectations that a billion people have of Tendulkar. Ponting doesn't have to take his family, like Tendulkar, to Iceland for a quiet holiday.
Ponting is, by a stretch, among the least likable characters of the game. His sledging is legendary and he has an air of a brat who will do worse if he could. He bats like a champion but his behaviour is adolescent. Unlike, for instance, some other Aussies, most notably that colossus Steve Waugh. And Tendulkar is greater than either. Tendulkar has been the perfect ambassador -- there's no escaping this cliché in reference to him -- of cricket, an inspiration even for those who have never played the game.
His acknowledgement of the love he has received from all Indians was evident when he dedicated his double hundred to the people of India. With that one remark, Tendulkar cemented further India's unity. And that is what makes him one of the rarest Indian heroes. On the field, he makes visible or tangible with his strokeplay -- like a great artist -- the loftiest laws of human activity in their relationship with spiritual and material forces. Off the field, he embodies their commingling, which produces the phenomena of life.
But let's not digress; let's take up the other phenomenon called Sehwag. That he is no less than Tendulkar in batting is to state the obvious. Sehwag is better than Ponting but short of Tendulkar for want of just one thing: Respect for the game. As a matter of fact, Sehwag has very little of it compared to Tendulkar, and this isn't to disparage Sehwag at all. It is Sehwag's lack of respect for the game that makes him falter embarrassingly at times. Tendulkar would never throw his wicket like the Sultan of Multan.
One can almost hear a forceful argument coming: Sehwag plays for the country and Tendulkar plays for himself. Wrong. Tendulkar once played for India, at times it did seem to the untrained eye that he played for himself, but what or who he has been playing against for the last couple of years -- may be more -- is himself. Tendulkar is in a different zone. In his mind he is like a golfer -- someone like Ballesteros. Two decades into the game, he has gone beyond playing cricket for anyone; his records and feats at the end of his incredible career will speak of this louder than anything else. He has conquered cricket with his respect and love for the game. And become its master.
So let's not ask how does Tendulkar do it. Let's just accept, to paraphrase the guru of cricket writing Peter Roebuck, that Tendulkar was born to outbat every other cricketer. He has lived in midst of a storm for twenty years and remained rooted, unscathed. This is why Tendulkar gets the sort of collective Indian adulation and fascination that no one else does.
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