You will be missed, VVS

VVS Laxman recently announced his retirement from International cricket and he will be missed. It was always such a treat for me to watch him play; like indulging in the occasional ice cream in an otherwise restrictive diet. To see him lord it over to  a good bowling attack has been, for me, some of the most memorable moments I have had as a follower of cricket. There are other batsmen who have dominated opponents more – his teammate Virender Sehwag, for example, has been as brutal a batsman as there can ever have been; to witness Brian Lara treat an attack as if they existed only for his pleasure has been one of cricket’s great spectacles. But VVS stands out for his presentation of batting as performance art.

There was steel to him too. Time and again he – more than any other player – was the one who stood up when India had lost all hope. So adept was he at rescuing his country, and fashioning victories out of thin air, that opponents dared not think of victory until he had safely returned to the pavilion.

At Mohali in 2010, batting with the tail, and hampered by a bad back, he guided India to a victory in a game that very few thought they could have won. Those few, mind you, might well have included the Australian team, for Laxman had often saved his very best for them. Of his 17 hundreds, 6 have been against Australia, and while his overall average is 45.97, it is 49.67 against Australia, despite averaging only 19.37 on his last tour there. He has been such a scourge to the mighty Australians that Ricky Ponting once offered that his scalp was the most prized in the line-up. A line-up, remember, that included Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid.

His greatest innings of all was against the Aussies too. In 2001 at the Eden Gardens, he made the whole cricketing world sit up and take notice. India was following-on 274 behind and the score was 52/1 when he joined the fray. He departed at 608/5 and his innings marked the turning point of the series.

But perhaps even more staggering than the enormity of his 281 was the masterly manner in which they were made. Laxman unveiled his full mouth-watering repertoire for all to look on and drool. He dismissed the all-conquering Australian attack, including Shane Warne and Glen McGrath, to all parts of the Eden Gardens, probably disturbing every blade of grass in the process. It was one of cricket’s great innings.

He was not moved by the mundane; he was only stirred by the impossible, or at least the very difficult. It is as if easy runs never interested him. Sure, he would gorge himself from time to time when cheap runs were available, but the simple task just didn’t seem to concentrate his mind.

On a placid surface where run making was commonplace, he might waft airily at one outside off and put wicketkeeper or slips in business. Confront him, on the other hand, in a death-match on a crumbling last day pitch, chasing an improbable total, with the top order gone for little, and you will have a heck of a time avoiding the very middle of his classy bat. In the direst situation you’d think he was batting in his backyard against the neighborhood children. At his best, VVS was never troubled, never hurried, always elegant, very seldom violent. And no matter the intensity of the scrap, there was always the liquid ease, the deceptive timing, the high art.

It is received cricketing wisdom that Indian batsmen, brought up on docile surfaces at home, struggle to cope on very lively surfaces. Yet on a bouncy Kingsmead track in 2010, a wicket Laxman said was amongst the toughest he had encountered, India was engaged in a second innings struggle to set South Africa a decent total to chase. With 6 for 50, Dale Steyn’s wickedly late away swing was almost unplayable in the first innings, while Morne Morkel’s steep bounce was threatening rib cage and grill. Laxman proceeded to score 96 in a game where nobody else from either side reached 40 and led his side to victory on a pitch that many pundits thought — especially after they succumbed meekly in the previous test — was much too spicy for them.

He was disturbed by the fact that he never played more one-day cricket, and especially that he never played in a single world cup. I understand why he would be disappointed; he scored in so many areas that it was difficult to restrict him when he was at the top of his game. And which international cricketer wouldn’t want to display his wares on cricket’s biggest stage?

But I can understand why he wasn’t chosen too. He was not a big hitter. Of his 8781 test runs, only 30 has come in sixes. Though a good slip catcher, he was rather lumbering in the outfield. It was the test match arena that was really his stage. And he has had many grand performances on it.

VVS was also one of the game’s gentlemen. He once lost his usual composure and erupted in a screaming rage at Pragyan Ojha because of his lackadaisical running during the miraculous fight back against Australia at Mohali. It seemed, at the time, that only the distance between them prevented him from administering a physical reprimand. But kindly soul that he is, he apologized when things had settled down. I have seen him simply shrug his shoulders when verbally challenged by frustrated fast bowlers. His business was scoring runs and the banter was left up to the broad vocabulary of his bat.

Generally speaking, sixteen years is not a long time to devote to a career. But this is sport and perhaps only careers in crime are more fleeting. Cricket fans the world over should therefore be grateful that we were able to observe such a skilled practitioner over the 220 international games that he played for his country. Even when he played against your team you never tired of seeing him bat.

Laxman’s 8781 test runs at 45.97 are not the heftiest in terms of statistics. At least not when you consider Tendulkar’s 15470 runs at over 55 runs per innings or Ricky Ponting’s 13346 at 52.75. Yet, at his best, nobody could lord it over a formidable attack with more ease. But time rushes on. VVS is now 37 and it was evident in his last three or so series that he was losing his ability to cope with the very best bowling. It was time to go.

So goodbye VVS. Cricket has lost some of its appeal with you now gone. It is sad (for me at least) that you will not be seen in your country’s colours again, dominating the best in the world with the kind of ease and felicity that only you among modern batsmen could summon. Stay well.