Cricket 2012: The year that swallowed them all
2012 is gone, thankfully. I have had enough of it. It has been that kind of a year. For a long time, I thought super heroes were for real and they’ll be around forever to save you. I was wrong. Five super heroes who’ve long been part of my upbringing have left me high and dry. Who would have predicted these five players would leave me altogether?
Each one has had their effect on me in one way or the other. Years down the line, when I would find all the time in the world sitting in a rocking chair, I would tell my grand children about these men. They’re among all time greats and modern day legends by their own right.
They could walk into any team straight away for the levels of class, skill and passion they possessed. Each of them had his own identity. The first one who left very early in 2012 was the most pertinacious. For most part of his career, he would duck at the bouncers hurled at him. And then there was another moment when he would go on to charge against Allan Donald at Durban. “Take me on Donald. Let’s see what you got.”
Dravid was an instant hero in my home too. These are days when respect for women in India has hit rock-bottom. There is a revolution that refuses to die down. Back then, he was still a boy working hard to seal his spot in one-dayers. MTV carried a spoof-programme fooling celebrities. If only India needed a hero to inspire, you had one teaching a lesson to all those perverts!
He was part of some cult classics. The way he worked his way to score his first ODI hundred in the Chennai heat that night won my heart. He wasn’t the most skillful batsman in the line-up. But his flicks, back-foot punch leaning into the crease and the pull shot would make jaws drop for even the best. He loved England and so did I. Every afternoon in the summer of 2002 and later in 2011, he batted as if he was born to rule England. The 2002 story was about a batsman scoring runs at his peak. But the 2011 segment was about one man standing tall amidst ruins. Broad and Anderson swung the ball at great pace. His team-mates kept falling like nine pins while he blossomed at an age when you generally notice that batsmen tend to lose their power of their vision, their wrist work and reflexes.
The second of my heroes who signed off this year was an artist. He was very very special. VVS belonged on another plane. He showed me that Cricket can be artistic. For a long time in the early part of his career, he struggled to gain an identity for himself. Once the millennium dawned, I saw the mother of all Houdini acts at the city of joy. It wasn’t a mere career saving 281. Laxman resurrected his country’s fortunes for another decade with that epic innings.
He was a pleasure to the purist’s eye. One way of measuring greatness is by assessing the way men seize big moments against the very best in sport. He made the Aussies run around the park like mad men searching for a clue that was non-existent.
Need to save a Test? Ask VVS. Need to play safe with the tail? Ask VVS. Need to play a pivotal knock at Perth and Durban? Ask VVS. Without him, Indian cricket wouldn’t have achieved even half of what they did in the last ten years. Like most of India’s cricketers hailing from South India and especially from that princely state of Hyderabad, he possessed great wrists. The style of batting has changed and with time, it is going to be rare to see a wristy cover-drive! He created angles that would excite mathematicians. He would pick a leg-spinner turning away from the right hander outside off stump, and deposit that aesthetically between the mid-on and mid-wicket fielders.
The third was a fighter renowned to not give up without a hustle. For a long time, I hated him. He was the bad man for Indian Cricket fans. He punished us by scoring hundreds at ease and then send flying kisses to his wife. It was that easy for him. Maybe he was that good! To be consistently compared with Brian Lara and Sachin Tendulkar in itself is the greatest achievement, Ponting could have earned as a batsman.
Irrespective of the general hatred, I could not stop appreciating his innings at Old Trafford (2005). He wasn’t as cocky as what he was a few years ago. I could see him enjoy his cricket. Maybe we Indians gave him that extra life in international Cricket. But even in times of distress, he certainly was the greatest ambassador of the pull shot. He would, quite often, produce a knock that defined the fighter in him. Srinath would have almost chopped his head twelve years ago. After dishing a mouthful, he smashed the leather to produce a fine Test century. He wouldn’t leave the bout without a fight. Such was the man’s passion for cricket. Being on the other side, I would have probably seen it as too aggressive. If I were an Aussie, I might have seen his attitude differently.
The fourth was the one and only Superman of Cricket. He was born to thrill masses and spread cheer among billions across the world. But this Christmas, he chose to drop a bomb. Twenty three years. That’s my association with Sachin Tendulkar. My life’s most important moments have been defined by Cricket and he was almost there everywhere. Talk about my school days at fifth or sixth grade, I would recall his match-winning effort to win the semi final against South Africans. As I was falling into the confusions of love and infatuation in my ninth grade, he continued to display his mettle with an emotional world cup hundred against Kenya. I had failed in my second semester exams. He brightened the evening by smashing Caddick to Pietermaritzburg. He promised an entire nation that they will rise to the occasion. The captain didn’t talk. He did!
Life without him was unimaginable. In a way, when he announced his retirement, I realized how old I have become. I am not the same old school boy in green uniform running helter skelter from school to watch him bat in the 1996 Cricket world cup!
The ODI format was completely his territory. Who else in this world has made us go mad, plunge into bucketful of tears, walk on the road with pride and at the same time carry a smile even during the toughest periods of our life? There will be none like him. His wasn’t just a name of an Indian cricketer. His name meant billion dollars of business. His name made Indians proud abroad. If ever you needed a superman to do the unthinkable, you know the name of the man who would do it. Sachin Tendulkar.
2005 was a time in my life when I had had enough of Michael Bevan. He was the ultimate finisher the ODI format has ever seen. Bevan went. Huss entered. Michael Clarke went on to tell recently that, if anyone has worked hard to earn the baggy green, it has to be Hussey. 79 consecutive test matches is by no means a small effort. It is a rare case of a man who had scored over 10,000 runs in first class Cricket and then earn his test cap!!
He was a captain’s delight. Hussey was part of a rare breed of Aussie cricketers who earned respect and love all over the world. He is a story of a mentally strong cricketer, a symbol of grit and passion. If not for all those attributes, he wouldn’t stand as the man with the most Test runs for batsmen who’ve debuted after turning 30.
All through his career, Hussey has produced magic across formats. His average is one of the most closely monitored numbers in the game for his first three years in the Test side. It reached 86.18 after back-to-back centuries against Sri Lanka. Think of the ODIs and T20Is and he would be there too. He was one of the shining stars of an Aussie side that was on the slide.
Time and again, each of these cricketers remind us, the fans, that we better cherish and celebrate them when they’re available rather feel sad after they go out.
Young boys of tomorrow who hold the bat for the first time will not have these super heroes for inspiration. Stars of today have more responsibility towards the sport than just score runs and help their team succeed. Every young Indian cricketer swears the BC and MC word today. It has become a style statement now. Even the most fearsome fast bowler lets out the grunt with anger after dismissing batsmen. I agree that you should try to be yourself but that said, it shouldn’t affect the way young boys look at you. What do boys of today see on television? – Players swearing and kicking the turf out of anger. Success in sport should make a man smile. These men taught a generation about it.
I won’t forget Dravid running and kissing his cap after scoring the winning runs at Adelaide. He was smiling. After reaching a milestone a minute, VVS would hug Dravid as if it was his routine. He was smiling. Every time the great man touched a milestone, he would look up to the skies and have his arms aloft. There is an unsaid calmness about this Tendulkar gesture. He was smiling. I remember the hundred Ponting scored against India last year at Sydney. A direct hit from Zaheer Khan would have been curtains for Ponting. You could see the relief when he dived at the crease, took a few seconds to gather himself. He was absolutely beaming, raised his bat to his wife and child – a champion silenced his critics! Hussey was no different. Cricket was a joy for him. Every time he would dive full to take a catch at gully or a deep-square-leg, he would run with all smiles.
The stars were born. They lit up my sky for a long time and now it is time for them to fade and give space for a new star to thrill me for another decade!