The retirement paradox that haunts cricketers

Par.a.dox (noun): a self-contradictory proposition.

I have to first clarify why I call it a paradox. In cricket, there are players and there are gentlemen. And some, who dangle mysteriously between two poles, torn between self-obsession and an ethical sense of duty towards his or her team. Retirement, therefore, becomes one of the biggest questions faced by a cricketer. I could extend the above lines for all forms of sport. But then, I don’t want to deviate at this point. So, let us stick to cricket. It is a colossus of a problem, a problem which grows its tentacles by the shades of the night, inch by inch, every year, from the time a cricketer has just started garnering recognition, moving through highs and lows of his career and finally into the twilight. ‘When should I retire’, is a question every cricketer asks or wants to ask. That is because not all cricketers are offered a choice in this regard. Mind you, I am talking about retirement from international cricket. Most cricketers are good enough to conjure symphonies at domestic level with alarming ease long after their international retirement. It is a paradox, because your introspection about retirement rarely arrives on time or rarely allows you to be honest. It is a paradox, because the question questions its own existence.

Mr. Cricket retired at the age of 37. The Wall, who could have owned the ‘Mr. Cricket’ sobriquet with just as much panache if not more, retired at 39. Ricky Ponting retired at 38. Shane Warne retired at 38. Brian Lara too, retired at the same age. All these players indulged themselves even after their retirement at club or first class level. All of them retired, it could be derived, with some juice still left to squeeze. There could be many incentives that spark a retirement. More often than not, players cite family as the most important reason. To watch the kids grow becomes a cynosure for most successful cricketers who travel a lot, missing out on spending quality time with family. For some, a home Test is a great incentive to retire, sometimes with up to 6 months of fuel still left in the tank. For some, it is the fear of being dropped that does the trick. For some, it is the absence of hunger that helped them put up with obnoxious drills day in and day out, throughout their career. Any cricketer who says he or she hasn’t given a thought to the legacy they would leave, is in all probability, lying. One of the most revealing insights into the retirement process was offered by none other than Dravid himself. Selfless is the only word that comes to my mind during such mind-numbing events.

When Ponting walked to the crease in his last Test innings, he received a guard of honour from the Proteas. Sportsmen dream of such days, dream of evoking that respect. Ganguly was carried on his teammates’ shoulders after his last innings. In fact, Dhoni, the captain, came up with one of the most wonderful gestures seen on a cricket ground. He let Ganguly call the shots in the last few overs, captain the side – a fitting finale to one of the most successful and boldest captains the Indian team has ever had. Dravid would have deserved the same, a farewell match, a guard of honour and a special mention and memento during the presentation ceremony. It would have been a nice way to walk into the sunset. But he retired during the off-season, not letting himself indulge in his whims, almost disciplining them to do what was right for the team. A series prior to his retirement could have been the best time, after he turned out to be one of the very few Indian players to have actually competed against the bulldozing England side. He could have retired and saved himself the embarrassment of a bad series against Australia where he lost his stumps multiple times. Yet, Dravid says, “that would have been selfish” for India needed him in Australia. For him, leaving on a high wasn’t as important as standing up in the hour of need. He retired ahead of home games, easy games, where he could have added to his massive tallies. But by retiring, Dravid let another fringe player be eased into the game.

Great players like Mohinder Amarnath never had the opportunity to retire on their own terms for they found themselves dropped before the time was up, keeping them waiting for eternity for that call-up that never came. I wonder if it is ever possible to perfectly time your retirement. If there is juice left to be squeezed out, an early retirement makes a waste of it. If the desire lingers on, there is the constant paranoia of humiliation occupying certain creases of your mind. In the rarest of cases and this is where Sachin Tendulkar lies, the decision becomes terribly difficult. His legacy isn’t going to be tainted even if he fails in a dozen more matches. His hunger and desire are still intact. He is still way ahead of the next crop of domestic players. He will not be dropped. So, exactly what question does he ask himself? Does the question, “Why should I retire” ever occur to cricketers? ‘Why’ instead of ‘when’ leads to a healthy debate, a debate, which encompasses ethics and conscience, the joy of playing cricket and the sacrifices.

It is a paradoxical question, the one about retirement. Logically and ethically, no player should think of retirement. It is the selectors’ job, a job they are paid to perform. It is they, who have a vision for the next couple of years. It is they who know about the pool, often more intensely than a player does. It is they who understand, or at least should, how much the younger ones in the dressing room are in need of a mentor, a brother figure in the form of a senior player like Sachin or Dravid. All a player should do, is be available for selection. For choosing not to play cricket, when selectors want you to, in order to avoid the ignominy of not being selected is from some angles, unprofessional. It is a sign of the fear of nudge that makes players retire. It isn’t wrong or unjustified, mind you, for great players have fought all their life in the toughest conditions, for pride. So, losing that pride is tantamount to failure.

Nevertheless, in the ideal world, the fear shouldn’t have existed. In the ideal world, legacy and farewell are words that don’t exist. Team and team’s interests are the only ones that do exist. Yet, we have churned out, ironically enough including this piece, reams of pages discussing retirements. The paradox called retirement is neither of the cricketers’ realm nor of the spectators’. Therefore it is best left alone, letting the cricketers and the spectators enjoy the game without the burden of a future decision.