If you're
lying on your hostel bed an afternoon during your semester finals after a
brain-wracking session, claiming a period of mental recharge, this is not an
SMS you'd want to wake up to- 'news coming in, sachin announces retirement'-
especially if you've spent your childhood watching few sports as religiously as
cricket!
When we were 16, we were grappling with tricky
problems of Maths and Physics under our study lamps. When He was 16, He was
fending blizzards zooming past the stumps at well over 90 mph from the likes of
Wasim and Waqar in Pakistan.
When we were 18, we were toiling hard to get into an
IIT. When He was 18, this school drop-out was sweating profusely while raising
His bat after becoming the youngest ever to score a test century, a smile
barely making its way through His lips to our eyes.
Rest is HIStory.
Today, He’s hung up his boots, much to our surprise
and dismay, and we’re left awestruck at how soon the small, curly haired boy
with a striking innocence and grit in His eyes, batted his way right into our
hearts, and 23 years elapsed just like that.
Its surprising that it took Him more than 75 innings to register an ODI hundred. But
there wasn’t any looking back after that. In fact, as a natural lifter and
attacker of the cricket ball, so swiftly did He evolve His batting techniques
that within no time He’d become not just the batting main stay of the Indian
lineup, but the hope and idol of a billion- amassing the bulk of His runs as an
opener.
He completely redefined opening batting with His
impeccable timing, largely textbook but at times even unorthodox techniques,
and surgical placement, so much so that at times the bullets emanating from His
particularly heavy willow used to reach the fence even before one could yell
‘FOUR RUNS’. Tendulkar of the late 90s, by now a household name and a global
phenomenon, was a revelation for India and (@ShaneWarne) a nightmare for
bowlers across the world.
His trademark shots- the extraordinarily powerful
back-foot cover drive, the elegantly balanced straight drive and the wizardly
flick of the pads through mid-wicket (which Waqar Younis claimed He could play
even with a walking stick!), gave Him a reputation vested only on the greats of
the generation. He played both spin and seam bowling with such amazing artwork
that it was always a feast for spectators of either side. The way He has lately
immortalized the nippy ‘upper cut’ is another example of His sheer class. Lords,
Sydney, Wellington, Johannesburg, Jamaica, Shere-Bangla, Karachi, Premadasa-
wherever he made the long walk to the crease, unprecedented hiatus and
jubilation followed. In India, He could stop time!
One of His greatest innings was the 143 vs Australia
at Sharjah, where He single handedly steered India to victory in the tri-series
with back to back hundreds in the penultimate and final games. The 98 of 75 vs Pakistan in the 2003 WC, which also included the famous upper cut to
Shoaib Akhtar, was unforgettable in itself, as He batt(l)ed with a hamstring
injury and was caught out 2 runs before a ton on the very 1st
delivery He faced after calling a runner. Then who can ever forget the 200 not
out against South Africa at Gwalior which was not just a batting marathon but
the achievement of a seemingly impossible landmark and a psychological
impediment. Each of His 46 other ODI hundreds was as special as any, for His
countless worshippers.
The tennis elbow injury was His lowest point. It was a
time when apparently everybody started doubting Him following a sharp decline
in His long seasoned batting technique, critics even asking for retirement. But
the master blaster showed that we fall so that we can learn to rise again,
letting His bat do the answering. He never let the anger and despair cross the
5 inches between His ears, on the field. Honesty, commitment and humbleness
were His acquired and inherited traits and all that made up the persona of the
Sachin we know and revere- SUCH is the character, SACH is life!
Statistics, arguably, are the ultimate hallmark of a
sportsman. By those standards there is not a single person who has ever wielded
the batting stick, who can walk shoulder to shoulder with the little master on
His best day.
He was THE REASON cricket moved up above the 22 yards
and invaded our homes, offices, tea-stalls, railway stations, shops, stores,
hostels, common rooms, schools, colleges, ingrained into the Indian psyche once
and probably forever. It’s hard to imagine walking in to bat with a million
eyes on you. That is something He has done throughout these 23 years. This
journey- from the ‘galis’ and
practice pitches of sub-urban Mumbai, learning the tit-bits of the game from
his mentor Ramakant Achrekar, to the world cup victory at Wankhade under the
inspired guidance of Gary Kirsten- has been truly sublime.
Now, one feels He should’ve retired after the World
Cup final, on the field, at Wankhade, on His home ground, amidst thousands of
fans, with the tricolor on his shoulders and tears in His eyes. That would have
been the ideal farewell to the person who made countless children like me,
dream of becoming a cricketer.
He is an inspiration, a true legend for all sense of
the word. A hero that the game deserved but perhaps not the one it needed right
now. He was indeed the silent guardian, the watchful player- the white knight.
Adios Jersey No. 10.
Live long and prosper!
