Sachin Tendulkar - A trip down memory lane

“When he goes out to bat, people switch on their television sets and switch off their lives” – BBC Sports

The earliest memory I have of Sachin Tendulkar playing for India, ironically, is a bowling performance. It was the 1993 Hero Cup semifinal against South Africa. Revisiting the match now on YouTube shows frantic discussions between the captain and the senior players regarding who should bowl the final over. But I can only recall listening to the elders at my place cursing Azharuddin for giving the last over to a young Sachin Tendulkar. Apparently, he was not a bowler and definitely not experienced enough to be bowling the last over of a semifinal match against a team like South Africa.

But then, Sachin was the only one who knew he could do it. And I watched him bowl a controlled over, keeping Alan Donald on strike for 4 balls and then getting McMillan to miss the final delivery. The ensuing celebrations confirmed to me that this was a special man, and I was going to be his fan, at least for the time being.

The tournaments that followed perhaps did not stop the progress of Sachin, as the only next thing I recall was the 1996 World Cup, held in India. It was a time when it was a common habit among people to switch off their tv sets as soon as Sachin got out, because the rest of the team was useless anyway. Whether it was really true or not was immaterial to me. All I had in my mind, Sachin needs to stay in the crease as much as possible, improving the chances of India winning a match. Because, if he got out early, it meant I had to go into my room and start studying. Nobody wants that!

And he didn’t disappoint! He ended up scoring the most number of runs in the tournament, and even though we lost in the semifinals in the most farcical way, I did not blame Sachin too much. Of course he couldn’t do anything if the rest of the team was just going to throw their wickets away! And we kids whispered in hushed tones that the reason India lost was because Pakistan threatened to bomb the Indian team if they set foot in Lahore to play the final.

It seems stupid now, but a 10 year old will take such explanations readily, and forgive his hero for not living up to his expectations.

While the 1996 Titan Cup was again mostly a blur, the only thing I remember was a relative, who had recently returned from Botswana in the African continent, and who was more or less supporting South Africa, comment that it was unfortunate that the only match they lost in the tournament was the final and that too against India. I rejoiced as once again, Sachin led his team, this time as captain, to their 1st tournament win of the year.

Fast forward to the 1998 Commonwealth Games. There was a huge tussle between the BCCI and Indian Olympics Association as to the team that was to be sent to the tournament. The BCCI wanted to send a second string team to the CG and send their strongest side to play another tournament, and if memory serves me right, it was at Sharjah against Pakistan. After much wrangling, the BCCI agreed to lend Sachin and nobody else from the first team. The IOA readily agreed, thus confirming to me once and for all that Sachin was the only cricketer in the country that mattered.

The 1999 World Cup started with huge expectations on my part, as I was sure that the disappointment of 1996 would be erased in this year. But tragedy struck as Sachin lost his father and had to return mid way. Though he returned, and his teammates tried their best, it was a lost cause. And I came to terms with it easily as Sachin’s loss was far greater than the disappointment I felt.

Many tournaments came and went but I was only looking forward for the 2003 World Cup. I was pumped up and absolutely sure that this was going to be THE year, so much so that I even started collecting paper clippings and made a scrapbook so that I would not miss even a single game. And staying true to my trust, Sachin and gang blasted their way past all opposition to set up a meeting against Australia in the final.

I remember the headline in The Hindu to this day: “Sachin gets his stage, at last!”

And I wholeheartedly agreed!

But things turned to the worse, with the young bowling line up no match to the Aussie demolition. But I did not lose hope. As long as Sachin remained, there was always a chance. But then, he got out in a hurry, and my world was forever crushed. Cricket was never the same again for me, and my anger at Sachin for disappointing me yet again was ferocious. And being a teenager, I was prone to drastic decisions. I tore up the scrap book, vowing never to care too much about cricket again.

And yet, I could not tear out that one particular news clipping.

“Sachin gets his stage, at last!”

I no longer watched any cricket matches anymore, but I silently kept track of Sachin’s feats, his scores and his contributions. But the love had died; it no longer craved the need to watch him play. But every time I happened to watch him play, the heart still gave a leap when that cover drive hurtled to the boundary.

Somewhere at home, amidst numerous books, in some corner of the bookshelf, still lies that clipping. I don’t know if I will ever try to search for it again, but it matters not anymore. For Sachin has bid adieu, and I will never get the closure I so desperately needed.

The pain is forgotten but the memories will remain; memories that have shaped a childhood. Sachin may have retired, but he will never retire from the hearts of millions of fans, all over the world.