Being a Rohit Sharma fan

Rohit Sharma fans forever live the the fear of the next brain freeze moment

‘Rohit Sharma.’
‘No no, it’s Lord Rohit Sharma.’
‘Why yes, he does bat in a regal manner.’
‘You’ve got to be joking. The man is a walking wicket. Rohit? More like Nohit. Drop him. Flog him. Hang him by his thumbs.’

This conversation is one many Rohit Sharma fans have had to endure over the years. And that doesn’t even include the ones where the ‘K’ word is used. Do you want to know what the worst part is? Every time we think he’s going to reward our faith, he remembers he had too much ice cream the night before and has a brain freeze. Just as he has you purring in approval after a shot that’s played with so little effort that he has no business looking so damn elegant, he throws it away. Out. Gone. See you.

Circle of life? How about the Circle of Rohit.

There’s a lot to like about Rohit. The time he has while batting, the fact that he looks good even when he’s beaten, the sheer exquisiteness of his stroke-play (I can hear the critics laughing already). If cricket was all about style and not substance, if individual shots mattered more than the innings, if we lived in a world where Ramprakash was better than Chanderpaul, Rohit Sharma would assuredly be the poster boy, brand ambassador and Overlord of such a reality.

We don’t.

The truth is that it’s difficult being a Rohit Sharma fan. Take the recent India-Pakistan Asia Cup game for example. If there was any of that muesli that Tendulkar had before that Champions Trophy game in 2000, Rohit had got his hands on it. He batted with arrogant disdain, as if the ball was unworthy to be in his presence longer than the few seconds it took to hit it all over the ground. Dhawan fell. Kohli (did I just say that out loud?) fell. Rohit strolled along. The bowling didn’t bother him. The pitch didn’t bother him. He batted pretty much as he pleased.

This was our moment, we told ourselves. He would vindicate our faith and sculpt an innings so spellbinding that it would have all his critics falling over themselves to enter Ravi Shastri’s favourite diner and order some humble pie. I felt a soothing tranquillity before I remembered that I had been here before. He had been here before. And it always ended badly. Cue the Gelato. He threw it all away, we hung our heads in despair, and he walked back to the pavilion.

It’s not easy being a Rohit Sharma fan.

Some say he shouldn’t open. Some say he shouldn’t bat in the middle order. Some say he shouldn’t be in the team. The harsh reality is that no matter what Rohit does, it is never going to be enough. His critics are a mixture of those who say style be damned, he’s got enough chances, move on.

Then, there are those who cannot fathom how somebody so talented keeps throwing it away. When he was batting with Tendulkar in the CB Series final in early 2008, many felt that he would soon take the world by storm. He batted like a dream, they said. He’s got all the shots, they said. He’s got the temperament, they said (yes, I realize the irony). They said it was only a matter of time.

They are still waiting.

I am still waiting.

India is playing Pakistan tonight. It’s a T20. Some feel he shouldn’t open because he takes too much time to get going. Others feel it will free him up to play his natural game. I just want to watch him bat.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll paint an oil masterpiece in this spray-paint form of the game.

Or, he could throw it all away again.

We’ll never know. It’s difficult being a Rohit Sharma fan.