Sachin Tendulkar shaped the idea of Team India in his own image
Imagine. Paris without Eiffel Tower. New York without the Statue of Liberty. London without its Underground. China without the Wall. Or Agra without the Taj.
Now imagine cricket without Sachin Tendulkar.
None of them can ever be the same without the one thing that has become its defining characteristic; it's almost like peeling off the soul from the depths of a body. The little master blaster has left us all wallowing in that void by announcing his retirement from the game on Thursday.
For a player who has demolished every record possible with rare humility and grace, it is fitting that his last match should be his 200th Test; someone may catch him in the run race, or on the averages or some other front, but they will need two lifetimes of a player to come anywhere near this milestone.
When he strode into our hearts on his majestic willow, still a little boy almost 25 years ago, he carved out two distinct types of cricket followers: those who love the game for its nuances and subtleties; and those who love the game simply because of him.
Almost overnight, he turned India into a country of cricket fanatics.
Today, it may sound apocryphal, almost difficult to believe , but the nation actually used to come to a standstill when he was out there batting, battling against the odds; old men and ignorant ladies danced at every boundary, each a masterpiece in itself, unshackling India from its chains; and puritans shook their heads in disbelief at the audacity of his strokes and, at the same time, the simplicity behind its execution.
For those who wanted to emulate him, most of his shots were in the realm of fantasy: impossible to even try.
Of course, he had to wait for the emergence of Dravid, Ganguly, Laxman, Kumble and Srinath to transform India into world beaters; but much before that he had already changed the very idea of cricket, of sport itself, giving a new lifeline to millions of kids.
He was the first million-dollar cricketer, an icon who was as popular as Amitabh Bachchan himself; India had other batsmen of similar pedigree, and some with probably as much talent, but none had the courage to look into the eye of a speed demon and whack him.
At his best, Sachin was the calm in a chaos, the last hope in times of despair, the lone beacon in a sea of darkness; Indian cricket was all of that during those years, imploding at the first hint of trouble and collapsing in a heap when it ought to have embraced glory. He was the lone crusader even though there was no promise of light at the end of the tunnel.
Those were gloomy days indeed, never mind match-fixing and other sins, when the team invited mirth and ridicule on tours; Sachin cried almost every time his mates didn't even offer a fight, wondering if his dream of taking India on the path to higher glory and No. 1 would remain just that: a dream.
Slowly, however, his belief became the motto of the team; the next generation of players, led by Sehwag, didn't know fear or failure. It provided the final push that the Class of Sachin needed, and together they attacked unchartered territory. It is not a coincidence that India became number one in Tests, One-dayers and even in T20 under his watch.
If he wasn't leading the charge, the team was amassing victories as a tribute to him. Sadly, injuries forced him to sacrifice the real Sachin and present to the world a lesser mortal; Sachin 2 was equally effective, and hungry for runs and wins, but he was still a pale shadow of himself.
Many couldn't reconcile to this transformation; they argued that the legend was being eroded, that he was slipping in the pantheon of greats despite the array of numbers. What they forget is that it was nothing short of a miracle that he even managed to bat after the elbow injury in 2003; after that it was just a conflict in his mind, a daily tussle against the body.
So yes, we know what it feels to not see THE Sachin at the crease; but Paris without the Eiffel? Agra without the Taj? It's a killing thought.
Now imagine cricket without Sachin Tendulkar.
None of them can ever be the same without the one thing that has become its defining characteristic; it's almost like peeling off the soul from the depths of a body. The little master blaster has left us all wallowing in that void by announcing his retirement from the game on Thursday.
For a player who has demolished every record possible with rare humility and grace, it is fitting that his last match should be his 200th Test; someone may catch him in the run race, or on the averages or some other front, but they will need two lifetimes of a player to come anywhere near this milestone.
When he strode into our hearts on his majestic willow, still a little boy almost 25 years ago, he carved out two distinct types of cricket followers: those who love the game for its nuances and subtleties; and those who love the game simply because of him.
Almost overnight, he turned India into a country of cricket fanatics.
Today, it may sound apocryphal, almost difficult to believe , but the nation actually used to come to a standstill when he was out there batting, battling against the odds; old men and ignorant ladies danced at every boundary, each a masterpiece in itself, unshackling India from its chains; and puritans shook their heads in disbelief at the audacity of his strokes and, at the same time, the simplicity behind its execution.
For those who wanted to emulate him, most of his shots were in the realm of fantasy: impossible to even try.
Of course, he had to wait for the emergence of Dravid, Ganguly, Laxman, Kumble and Srinath to transform India into world beaters; but much before that he had already changed the very idea of cricket, of sport itself, giving a new lifeline to millions of kids.
He was the first million-dollar cricketer, an icon who was as popular as Amitabh Bachchan himself; India had other batsmen of similar pedigree, and some with probably as much talent, but none had the courage to look into the eye of a speed demon and whack him.
At his best, Sachin was the calm in a chaos, the last hope in times of despair, the lone beacon in a sea of darkness; Indian cricket was all of that during those years, imploding at the first hint of trouble and collapsing in a heap when it ought to have embraced glory. He was the lone crusader even though there was no promise of light at the end of the tunnel.
Those were gloomy days indeed, never mind match-fixing and other sins, when the team invited mirth and ridicule on tours; Sachin cried almost every time his mates didn't even offer a fight, wondering if his dream of taking India on the path to higher glory and No. 1 would remain just that: a dream.
Slowly, however, his belief became the motto of the team; the next generation of players, led by Sehwag, didn't know fear or failure. It provided the final push that the Class of Sachin needed, and together they attacked unchartered territory. It is not a coincidence that India became number one in Tests, One-dayers and even in T20 under his watch.
If he wasn't leading the charge, the team was amassing victories as a tribute to him. Sadly, injuries forced him to sacrifice the real Sachin and present to the world a lesser mortal; Sachin 2 was equally effective, and hungry for runs and wins, but he was still a pale shadow of himself.
Many couldn't reconcile to this transformation; they argued that the legend was being eroded, that he was slipping in the pantheon of greats despite the array of numbers. What they forget is that it was nothing short of a miracle that he even managed to bat after the elbow injury in 2003; after that it was just a conflict in his mind, a daily tussle against the body.
So yes, we know what it feels to not see THE Sachin at the crease; but Paris without the Eiffel? Agra without the Taj? It's a killing thought.
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