A fan's tribute to the swashbuckling Virender Sehwag
At around the same time last evening when I sat down to write what I felt about first Zaheer Khan's and then Virender Sehwag's retirement, a blip on my cell phone, and I had to shut my laptop – "Sehwag denies reports of his retirement" said a TOI notification. Quite sheepishly, just like the rest of the world, I smiled to myself; Sehwag had done it again – kept us at the edge of our seats.
However with Sehwag officially confirming his retirement from international cricket and the Indian Premier League earlier on Tuesday, the sheepish smile has long gone, and with the brouhaha finally settled, Sehwag won't be an international cricketer come sunrise tomorrow. Gee, this had to happen one day, and yet, just like every good thing in life, you always thought it won't.
I remember how we gasped every time he hit the ball just over covers for a boundary and the commentators cursed how it would've been a riskless shot had the front foot been in line with the ball. On every occasion he got out playing the same shot, we questioned: “ why can't he bloody listen to what they have to say? what does it take to move that front foot a yard more?”
And yet, now when you look back, there were so many who heard what they said, and then there was Sehwag, who in his own words, "played my (his) way.”
There will surely be a void, a void in that hope, which hoped against hope for Sehwag to be included in the team, every time the BCCI sat to select the squad. A void in the excitement for everyone attached to the game, especially in the first 15 overs of India's batting. There will be a void, somewhere in that slip cordon, in that dressing room and of course, out in the middle. There will be a void in Indian Cricket.
While his numbers speak for themselves, and his anecdotes of instilling fear in bowlers will live long, there will surely be an agonised statement every now and then, by a young fan, maybe when Dhawan plays a reckless shot, or when Rohit mistimes a lofted hit, stating, "Yaar Sehwag hota na..."
Someday, somewhere, in a cricket academy, under the belting sun, there will be kids practising the arduous front foot defence, while some would do it as the coach says, maybe, one wouldn't, and the next day, when he will bat in the nets, and rock on to his backfoot to cut a ball he should've purportedly played forward on, while the coach will be iffy and livid, someone will come up to him and tell him, "Ye Sehwag wala tha...." then there will again be a sheepish smile.
There’s no doubting that Sehwag’s legacy will live on, forever.
Thank You, Sehwag.