Brad Hogg

At the end of the match Hogg gave that

Ball to Sachin for his autograph.

Sachin put his sign with one beautiful sentence,

"IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN." –

Sachin Tendulkar's all-round greatness means he will not be surpassed by Dileep Premachandran

To understand what Sachin Tendulkar has meant to Indian cricket, it's necessary to look beyond his record-breaking 169th Test appearance, achieved yesterday in the series against Sri Lanka, and his batting heroics. Think instead of a man who has 198 wickets, 154 of them in one-day internationals, an individual who has never been less than fully involved out on the field despite having been around since the days when Mike Gatting was leading a rebel tour of South Africa.

Think back to a World Series game in Australia in December 1991. The West Indies were waning as a limited-overs force, but when they skittled India for 126 in Perth, few gave Mohammad Azharuddin's side a chance of salvaging anything from the game. But West Indies then fell apart themselves and it was left to Curtly Ambrose and Anderson Cummins to get them within range. Ambrose was run out, and Cummins and Patrick Patterson then levelled the scores with Azhar having turned to Tendulkar's medium pace as a last resort.

With the last ball of his only over, Tendulkar tempted Cummins to flash outside off stump. Azhar took a fine catch in the slips, and the game was tied. Two years later, the boy with the golden arm was at it again, this time in the Hero Cup semi-final against South Africa, a team who were coming into their own as a one-day powerhouse. Again it was Tendulkar that Azhar turned to, with six needed from the final over. He gave up just three, and went on to sneak one through Brian Lara's defence in a final where West Indies were routed.

In Tests, Tendulkar's partnership-breaking ability came to the fore in matches where he didn't contribute as heavily with the bat. In India's most cherished victory of all, at Eden Gardens in 2001, he made 10 in both innings. But facing a race against the clock to bowl Australia out on the final afternoon, it was his intervention after tea that effectively killed off Steve Waugh's hopes of clinging on to a series lead.

On a worn pitch and with the capacity crowd bellowing approval, he ripped the ball at near-right angles to supplement Harbhajan Singh's heroics at the other end. Adam Gilchrist, Matthew Hayden and Shane Warne all fell leg-before, unable to fathom the extent of turn as Tendulkar tossed up leg breaks, googlies and the odd quicker one.

More than two years later, at Adelaide, he made 1 in the first innings of a game made memorable by the batting of Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman, and some rare Ajit Agarkar moments in the Test-match sun. With Australia setting India a target on a surface where chasing has never been easy, Tendulkar made his mark when it mattered most, with Australia 142 ahead and having seven wickets in hand. Damien Martyn and Steve Waugh were undone in successive overs, both by prodigious turn and edges to Dravid at slip.

In Multan the following spring, he produced another Warne-like special to bowl Moin Khan through his legs to ruin Pakistan's hopes of saving the follow-on. India went on to win by an innings and 52 runs, and the dismissal buried some ghosts from the recent past. At Eden Gardens in 1999, Moin's gritty 70 had been pivotal as Pakistan recovered from 26 for six to win a Test match.

His last Test wicket came at Wellington in April 2009, and you have to go back a further 18 months and a game against Pakistan in Guwahati for his last ODI wickets. A shoulder that required surgery has been keenly felt on Asian pitches, where his spin and ability to wobble the ball off the seam gave his captains an option well worth checking out.

Mahendra Singh Dhoni, the current India captain, will console himself with the thought that the bowling decline has gone hand-in-hand with a batting resurgence. In seven Tests this year, Tendulkar averages more than 96, and has five centuries. Overall he is averaging 56.25 in Tests.

Back when he started playing, 20 Test centuries and 10 more in the one-day arena marked you out as one of the all-time greats. The benchmarks he has gone on to set in both forms of the game make a mockery of everyone else who has played in this era.

Consider this to put things into perspective – Andrew Flintoff is five years younger and his peak lasted six years, from the hundred against South Africa at Lord's in 2003 to the Ashes-winning encore of last summer. Tendulkar was scoring match-saving Test hundreds at Old Trafford when Flintoff was 12, and he'll play his sixth World Cup next spring, while Fred watches from the sidelines.

As Sharda Ugra, who has seen Tendulkar progress from prodigy to old hand, asked in Cricinfo: "Stretch the imagination 22 years ahead and see if you can pick any fresh Test stripling of today – Umar Akmal, Eoin Morgan, Steve Smith, Adrian Barath – to go past 170 Tests." You can't, can you? Few records in sport are safe, not Bob Beamon's, not Hank Aaron's and not even Jack Nicklaus's of 18 majors. But Tendulkar, like Bradman and his 99.94, will endure. No one else will even get close.

The Worst Sachin Arguments

Remembering the most foolish things ever said about Tendulkar.

The male analysis of Sachin Tendulkar is a two-decade long confession of Indian men. When they speak of him, usually through pilfered opinions, they reveal fragments of their own fears and private grouses. So when a guy says that Rahul Dravid is a more useful Test player than Sachin, he means to say, ‘I am an ordinary person and I want the ordinary to triumph over the flamboyant, I want hard work to be accorded the same respect as unattainable genius, otherwise what is the whole point of my existence.’ When he says Laxman is more beautiful to watch than Sachin, he is saying, ‘I want you to believe that I am classy, an opera among rock concerts.’ And when he says that Ganguly was a better one-day opener than Sachin, he is saying, ‘I am a Bengali.’

As Tendulkar now absurdly escalates his game in what should have been his commentary years, as he stands alone as the rightful owner of One-Day’s most prized batting record, as all his old rivals have fallen whispering in their final moments that this man is the best of their times or even the best ever, it is easy to forget the many moronic things that were said about him. There is a huge quantity of third-rate literature, now deservedly serving as cones for peanuts, that once berated him in the masquerade of cricket analysis. Views that were, and still are, reproduced as the opinions of millions. Till recently, the most stupid Indian arguments were usually about Sachin. How many times have you heard someone say, ‘he does not win matches’. Increasingly, people who do not have mental problems are abandoning this line of thought, even refusing to admit that they ever held such an opinion. But not very long ago, it was a popular view.

Also, his centuries, apparently, did not result in Indian victories. Considering that he did not waste balls when he was in the middle, could it be that there were other reasons for our defeat apart from his centuries? Also, it is alleged, he never lasted till the end. As if it was his wish to go have a shower before the match ended. Could it be that the mathematical probability of an opener lasting till the end is very small?

In the past two decades, several batsmen have been regarded as Tendulkar’s equals. In columns, essays and drunken conversations, some batsmen were even considered better than him if the game were split into narrow genres. At some point or the other players like Inzamam, Ponting, Lara, Bevan, Sehwag, the brothers Mark and Steve (Waugh) have been placed by his side to see if his light dimmed. Sachin is like the digit in a stopwatch that remains unchanged even as the numbers in the units place go through a furious shuffle. But in the end, the contenders have diminished or vanished. Except Lara, who is the only batsman whose right it is to deny Tendulkar the honour of being considered the greatest of his time (though Lara himself has no doubts in this matter).

There were periods in Lara’s astonishing career when Indian men gleefully pointed at him and said, ‘this guy is better than Sachin’. The glee is the whole story. Many men, for different reasons, nurse a hatred for Sachin. It could be the complicated nature of male love, which has a bit of malice in it. Or it could be that Sachin reminds some men of their own worthlessness. Or it could be that people with low self-esteem, of whom there are many, rate everything that belongs to them, like Tendulkar, as inferior to what is foreign.

It is not surprising that the way Indian men talk about Sachin is exactly the way Caribbean men discuss Lara. “Lara has done nothing for us, nothing,” a man from Trinidad told me about three years ago. “Great batsman but a selfish fellow.” Haven’t we heard that many times in India—about Tendulkar? The same gloomy force that makes Indian men rate Lara higher, inspires Caribbean men to rate Tendulkar higher than Lara. A few years ago, when cricket fans in Guyana were asked to decide who was better, 85 per cent voted for Tendulkar. As we can see, the male analysis of Tendulkar and Lara says little about the batsmen but a lot about men in general.

After Fiat gifted him a Ferrari and he applied for a duty waiver of Rs 1.6 crore on it, there was a huge uproar. That was the first time he was slammed in the media. ‘How can he be so greedy’ was the cry of Indian men, all of whom spend a lot of effort evading taxes themselves. Rs 1.6 crore is a considerable sum even for Tendulkar. What was so morally bereft in trying to save that money? Are we morally compromised when we try to save a few thousand every year in tax exemption?

But the worst argument against Tendulkar will always be the myth that he was a bad captain. The truth is: his presence in the dressing room is such that as long as he plays he will be the only captain, whether he is called that or not. All men who tried to defeat his presence hurt themselves. Ganguly was a tortured soul. When he arrived at an airport or at a press conference, if there was Tendulkar, Ganguly was never granted the dignity of being captain. It was Tendulkar people wanted to see, hear. Dhoni’s great fortune is that his mind is clear, he knows his place—Captain and No. 2.

Tendulkar is a victim of not just mediocre analysis but also meaningless compliments. He is often described through a sentence that appears to be a unique Indian expression. No other nation is as fond of this line: ‘What strikes you about him is his humility’. It is a compliment usually given to a celebrity with good manners, who has made a journalist feel comfortable, who has offered him a glass of water to drink. How many times have we seen Tendulkar being described as humble, and readily accepted that view. But, are we confusing his endearing decency for humility? And his self-centered caution that ensures he does not always speak his mind, are we misinterpreting that disappointing aspect of his personality for humility? He might be humble, as somehow required by all his devotees, but my point is we don’t know.

Then there is the other annoying epithet—Little Master. You think he likes being called Little?

http://www.openthemagazine.com/shorts/smallworld/2010-03-20

Simply Sachin!

The proudest possession of Indian cricket is not yet done Have you ever thought of what will happen to Indian cricket after Tendulkar?” The air was full of anticipation as the question hung for an infinitesimal moment. In the small lounge of a five-star hotel, where a select gathering listened intently to every word he spoke, where the only noise that could be heard between the conversation was the click of the cameras, Sachin Tendulkar said: “Oh! I really don’t know how to answer this question. Of course, cricket goes on. There have been players in the past, our heroes, who retired and cricket went on.” The two are intertwined—Indian cricket and Tendulkar. So don’t blame him for not dwelling on it for too long. It is a question that a billion people would rather not ask themselves. People say Twenty20 cricket has brought an entirely new audience to cricket—women and children. Tendulkar did that way back, permeating through the collective consciousness of every Indian even before he completed his first year in international cricket. The 119* vs England in Old Trafford (1990), the 114 vs Australia in Perth (1991-92), the twin centuries against Australia in Sharjah (1997-98), the World Cup efforts in 1996 and 2003, the 155 vs South Africa in Bloemfontein (2001-02), the 241 at the SCG (2003-04)... the list is endless. All his innings, a nation sat hooked to its TV sets, unblinking, hoping, praying, crying, rejoicing. We watched wide-eyed as he ripped through a charging Shoaib Akhtar in Centurion in the 2003 World Cup. We did the same recently, as he valiantly tried to pull off a win against Australia in Hyderabad. There we were again, alongside the women and children, sitting with bated breath, watching the maestro exhibiting his class, in complete control, taking no risk yet unleashing his strokes to all corners of the park. This happened amid talk of the impending death of the ODI cricket with the advent of T20. Tendulkar and India proved the doomsayers wrong. The 20 years have amounted to 73,103 runs in 159 Tests, 436 ODIs, a T20 international, 261 First Class matches, 523 List A matches (domestic level of ODI matches) and 25 T20 matches. It may be impossible for even a die-hard fan to remember so many innings, but not Tendulkar. He can vividly recall each innings. He also has a photographic memory of his dismissals—he can describe it more correctly than any match report lying in newspaper archives. It is difficult to miss the excitement and joy in his voice as Tendulkar talks about his first century. “I was unbeaten on 96 overnight and couldn’t sleep. We [Sharadashram Vidyamandir] were playing against Don Bosco and I was impatient to get to my first ever century. Another reason for my impatience was that I had invited Achrekar Sir [coach Ramakant Achrekar] to dinner at my home, but he said the day I score a century he would come. Next morning my father took me to pay obeisance at a Ganpati temple. I scored the century in the very first over. The first thing I told Sir at the change room was that he now had no way out but to come to my house.” Tendulkar has made batting look so easy and complex at the same time. “Nothing is easy and you have to work hard for it. I’m a person who hates taking anything for granted, I want to prepare to the best of my ability,” he says. “I wanted to go out and express myself to the best of my ability, and if the pre-match preparation was good then I was in a position to go out and deliver, and that is something I focused on. There may be innings where you don’t do well, that’s fine, but as long as you’ve given 100 per cent, that is what matters to me.” Innumerable reasons are attributed to his genius. Talent, focus, discipline, hard work, but the basic reason behind it is that he takes his cricket extremely seriously. Yet, even for someone who started leaving his imprint on the landscape of cricket far and wide at such an early age, he admits to having his moments of doubt. “In the earlier part of my career, in the second Test at Faisalabad, I scored 58. But in the previous Test I had got out early and I had actually questioned myself whether I belonged there. I felt out of place, tense, and didn’t know what was happening around. In the second Test I went out and decided that, come what may, I’m going to be there. That innings was the turning point of my life because after that I felt I do belong here,” he says. Interestingly, while it is his ODI exploits that come forth in one’s memory—maybe because he has played so many of them—it is the Test innings that he brings up often in discussions. Tendulkar may have dished out hi-cal, instant gratification performances in the shorter version, but it is the subtle flavours of the longer version that he prefers. “We should play more Test cricket for sure. It is obviously not a great news that we are only playing five Tests this season. Ideally, for any team to progress you need to play more Test cricket as that is where the real cricket is,” he says. Tendulkar often speaks about how his game has evolved from the aggressive one a 16-year-old played to the vintage essays that come off his bat at 36. Brand Sachin, too, has evolved in a similar fashion. Tendulkar being a minor, his father, Ramesh Tendulkar, had to sign his contract with the BCCI on his behalf before his debut series against Pakistan in 1989. Six years later, in 1995, at 22, he entered into a five-year contract worth around Rs 30 crore with WorldTel, which made him the richest cricketer in the world. In 2001, a Rs 100 crore deal was signed with WorldTel. In 2006 he entered into a contact with Singapore-based World Sports Group. There he sat under dim lights, his charcoal grey Adidas T-shirt sporting another logo on the right side—ST, underlining his essential character, understated mostly, with glimpses of flashiness (as reflected in his love for expensive fast cars). ST branded cricket equipment and kids’ consumer goods, like clothing, food and toiletries sporting the brand, are some of the plans in the pipeline. Having never rushed in his career, he has mastered the art of patience (the 241 at SCG in 2003-04 did not have single one of his trademark cover drives). It is this patience which has seen him live his life under intense media glare. Yet, here he was, answering every query, which he had probably answered a zillion times before, with not a hint of impatience. His voice sounded tired after a few hours but a few cups of black tea kept him going. There were no grudges about what he has to do; just a simple, uncomplicated acceptance of how things are and how they have been. “This is the way I’ve known my life from the age of 14. That is when I started playing first-class cricket when I was part of the Mumbai Ranji Trophy team. But I’m comfortable with it,” he says. “People have appreciated me for what I am, so I don’t make any special effort to change.” That is Sachin for you—simply Sachin, even after 20 years.