The Game Must Go On ………..

Legacy

So the blog is back. This blog has always had a special stature in my life, for it has received all my mental chaos and outbursts. A Facebook status is too restricted a platform! And given the recent spot fixing shit, it’s really difficult for an ardent cricket follower to focus on other things in life.

When I was a kid, I always wanted to play cricket in the neighbourhood. I fantasized myself batting, bowling and fielding spectacularly, reading the game on television, performing daily rituals of newspaper articles, following cricketers, their lives and what not! But alas, I was too inappropriate to fit into the physical demands of the game. I would gasp for breathe after running for a single, produced the slowest and most ridiculous of deliveries for the batsmen to hit sixes, could never learn how to hold a bat properly and while fielding, the ball would never stick to my hands. I realized the limitations well, and hence, I shifted my desire to be involved in the game to sitting on the couch and read it. Too poor to play, and too desperate to get involved, I would umpire and chose commentary in school whenever I got opportunity.

My first memory of watching a cricket match goes back to 1998; I don’t remember watching a cricket match before that. For a 1990 born, my love for watching the game grew, ironically, after Sachin had just finished with the most glorious times in his life, post Sharjah ’98. I grew my sense of understanding watching the ’99 World Cup, when Rahul Dravid arrived. I would watch cricket endlessly, reading the shots, playing them in my mind, listening to commentators, muting the television set and doing commentary of my own.

My fanfare for the game began when Saurav became captain, and since then, Indian Captains have always been my favourite players, inspiring my life for all they would do. I grew up parallel to the accent of Indian cricket in the 2000s. I would see Sachin repeatedly fail and getting injured, Laxman and Kumble winning overseas test cricket with unmatchable grit, Rahul Dravid saving the Indian asses from shameful defeats countless times, and Ganguly building a new decade from scratch and legacy to follow.

I admired all of them, and since everyone was at their career bests except for Sachin, they all became my role models. They still are.

I watched Ind-Aus in 2001. I remember I was jumping for the whole day after the Kolkata test, difficult to control emotions. I watched the 2003 World Cup. I cried in ecstasy whenever India won, and I cried after the finals. But the way my role models went from zero to hero within three years, they all inspired me to do well in life, to achieve something, to feel that nothing is impossible. They inspired my whole generation.

I would sneakily turn on the television at 3am in 2004, when India shattered Steve Waugh’s final dream. When Ganguly set the tone in Brisbane with 144, when Dravid made history in Adelaide, and when Sachin never played a cover drive in his 241* in Sidney, I was overwhelmed by the heroism. They were true rockstars; they definitely blew me away.

I watched all Indo-Pak ODIs in 2005, when Ganguly declined and Dravid took over the captain’s reigns. If Ganguly gave birth to Zaheer, Harbhajan, Kaif and Yuvraj, Dravid created a whole new subset of youngsters within him. I was stunned by the way Irfan, Dhoni and Raina suddenly arrived into the scene. Dravid had always been my favourite as I imagined him a warrior who would never die. But post 2005, his stature grew enormously, with the way he created an all-rounder out of Irfan, a finisher out of an Afridisque MS Dhoni and an emerging middle order batsman in Suresh Raina.

Indian Cricket and its timeline became a never-ending thesis for me. It resembled falling and emerging kingdoms under changing leaderships, with newer warriors and heroes taking birth and dying. I used to create parallels out of it with my History chapters, in which I was equally fascinated by Mughal Empire and its interesting battles!

I stopped following cricket for two years before JEE. It was a difficult choice, but I was able to do that. I missed most of Dravid’s captaincy, the 2007 Caribbean WC and yes, even that historic T20 World Cup when Dhoni entered the scene. I missed the first edition of IPL ’08, and another historic CB series in 2009. I missed Tendulkar’s double hundred, I missed India’s overseas test victories under Dhoni for my own chaos at IITD.

But as a few would believe, all these matches on Youtube boast a significant share of my repeated viewing …… to the extent that I should cram up the commentators’ words, to cover up for all my indifference to the game for the lost 4-5 years.

I love the game because of Rahul Dravid, for I would chose him, out of all, to save my life if I ever get a chance.

I love the game because of Tendulkar, for his cover drive, on drive, straight drive, upper cut, third man pull, leg stump flick, square drive and the step-out sixes ……… they all create goose bumps, they all make me feel privileged!

I love the game because of Ganguly, for his aggression which should not be confused with arrogance, for his style, for his motivation, for his smiles, for showing the world that an Indian Captain need not be stereotype.

I love the game because of Dhoni, who would display inhuman control over his mind while chasing a target, who taught me that an ordinary person like me can achieve anything given s/he believes in self; who taught me that given the limited talent one has, one can pull out wonders in life with focus, concentration and keeping things simple!

I love the game because of Harsha Bhogle, who would never mince a wrong word, and who would always present both sides of the coin.

I love the game because of Ravi Shastri, whose voice thunders on the mike, creates sensations within my body, and provides a fitting respect to the heroism of individuals out there on the field.

I love the game because of those fringe players in IPL teams, who would learn from the great players in the dressing room, would throw their bodies to save runs, would complement in the partnerships, and would do anything to take crucial wickets for their great captains.

Sometimes, it feels strange when people around me are quick to give judgements. They are quick to accuse a cricketer of fixing, spurning him off if he gets out quickly, giving expert opinions as to what he should not do and why he is an asshole. They are quick to shout anti-slogans for a team they don’t like. That’s okay, but then they also give fantasy-created justifications for why a team/ a player would be an ass.

Its difficult for me to understand the people around. If I love a team, I can never disrespect the team playing against it, because in the end, it’s the game which I love, not an individual or a team! Its extremely difficult for me to disrespect a cricketer if he gets out on a duck, for the simple fact that we all make mistakes.

A cricketer would face and resolve more challenges in an ODI than what an ordinary person like us would face and might not resolve in a full year of college life! Beating a batsman outside off or hitting a four off a wonderful length delivery is a satisfaction ordinary people like us would never be able to understand. And perhaps that’s the beauty of cricket, or any other sport for that matter! It brings out undiscovered capacities of human mind, unparalleled depths of concentration and unmatchable bravery within a single over of 6 balls!

A non-sports person would never be able to reach that charisma of an international sport. It will always be a fantasy for us …… as to how a Brett Lee produces 160 km/hr or a Laxman can bat for 15 hours in scorching heat in front of fiercest bowlers of the world for a 281.

I don’t want my kids to laugh me off when I tell them that Cricket was the only game I followed, and it significantly shaped the motivation behind the decisions I have taken in life.

The current state of affairs is sad.

For all its beauty, the game must go on ……..