Having seen Ishant for quite some time now, I have a pet theory.
Somebody has told him that there are two kinds of bowlers - ones who create wickets for others to take and ones who take them, reap the rewards so to speak. With his potent in-dipping deliveries and awkward bounce allied nippy pace he belonged to the former group originally. Halfway into his fledgling career the leg cutter started making an appearance. Thereafter there was this mysterious loss of pace. And guess what - Ishant no longer had that nip back into the right hander which left Ponting red in the face and frothing at the mouth because the ball had for the nth time passed between the bat and his body, shaving nothing but air.
One can only be what one is built to be. Ishant is another Srinath or another Flintoff. They are pressure creators. And a team needs all kinds of performers. He just needs to get his in-dipper in place and at pace. The rest will follow. His newly learned leg cutter should be a surprise weapon - sort of like a coup de grace. Not one to be used every other ball by any means.
The IPL started yesterday with a big bang featuring a gala opening ceremony, another ceremonial 'Spirit of Cricket' oath and a Green initiative featuring all the IPL team captains. With Ravi Shastri constantly testing the upper limits of his voice, there was no opportunity left to remind the viewers that they were supposed to be excited and charged up. I thought Lalit Modi's opening speech was strange and fairly lengthy for the crowd collected at the D Y Patil stadium, Mumbai. He started off explaining the whole IPL initiative and what was being done new in this edition and then went on to attack the 'elements' which tried to stop the IPL from taking place and finally celebrated India as being the foremost cricketing nation (or something to that effect).
Just viewing the opening ceremony reminded us that we were seeing an amalgamation of sorts. Entertainment cross-bred with business and being introduced to sport. A lot of the folk I know started watching the opening game between Deccan Chargers and Kolkata Knight Riders with a headache owing to the 'gala' opening ceremony. I wonder if the IPL commissioner could get a poll going among the general public and see how many actually like seeing the opening ceremony. The point about bringing in world class musicians is absolutely lost if proper sound arrangements are not made. The musicians themselves would cringe at listening to their sound coming over our TVs.
We are constantly reminded that the IPL is just not for us - the passionate cricket fans. It is also for non-cricket fans - those who are in for a good time basically. Even so, I am not so sure that the opening ceremony ticked all the boxes. And this is not the first time that the IPL opening ceremony has given rise to such an effect.
Moving onto the match itself, the cricket was fine. There was a lot of heart and skill on display - starting with Chaminda Vaas' beguiling swing to fine hitting from Angelo Mathews, Owais Shah and to an extent Gilchrist. For me the most entertaining innings though came from VVS Laxman who revelled in the opening position and even smote a straight six off a medium pacer! Something which I have never seen him do at the international level in any form of the game. Chalk one up for yourself, VVS! And there Harsha was,clucking disapprovingly at what he termed agricultural strokes by VVS. The man is turning over a new page in his mid 30's for god's sake, Harsha! The least we could do is applaud the effort and recognize the effectiveness. We would be deluded to look for just grace and elan in the game's shortest form! The Knight Riders won in the last over although the result itself was not in doubt after Rohit Sharma's exit.
Any mention of the match action is incomplete without calling to attention the latest advertisement gimmick that IPL has introduced. While I did not notice too many DLF maximums in use from the commentary box, that relief was short lived when various advertisement snippets came full screen in the 5 to 10 second gap that a bowler takes while walking back to his run up! To say that I was incredulous would be to understate the case. Have the advertisers themselves given any thought to how irritating this could be? Have they considered that this could potentially work against them in the market with people getting irked at being forced to watch these ill-advised ad breaks smack in the middle of cricket action? That the advertisements themselves were cringe-worthy is quite another case.
On reflection the IPL tries to woo a huge section of people. Hardcore cricket fans, casual cricket fans, general sports fans, curious business people, interested investors, people from the entertainment industry, housewives and children. Given that it tries to provide a package which is supposed to be everything to everybody, it is no wonder that a few of these groups might feel shortchanged. It is also no wonder that this amalgamation is giving rise to an entirely new breed of sports fan in India and abroad. There is no room for judging the IPL. Nor is there time for such endeavours with the commentators exhorting us and goading us towards wild abandon. Lets just enjoy it then. The best part of it is that you will find some aspect of IPL interesting - no matter which group you fall into out of the ones quoted above. How I wish our TV broadcast would allow us to pick and choose the elements of IPL that we like.
At its simplest level, sport is about possibilities. We fans dream up spectrums of possibilities. We align ourselves based on these spectrums, pledge our allegiances and set ourselves up for emotional and sometimes even physical reactions based on how things actually turn out. Most times our dreamt up possibilities are restricted by our citizenship - in itself a simple piece of paper, if you think about it. It is perhaps then all for the good that there still exist a few in the realm of sport who make you forget about these restrictions and think only about the sporting possibilities. It takes no special skill to surmise that I am talking about Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar and the possibilities that only he brings to the sport that he adores and so beautifies and typifies - cricket.
I lay the blame squarely on Sachin Tendulkar - for making it so hard to write yet another article on his prowess and achievements and landmarks, which show no signs of fading away. Superlatives pale. Praise falls flat and comparisons do not seem to fit, if only because we are finding it harder to find appropriate standards of comparison as time goes on. Cricket's prolific writing community has driven itself against the wall praising his two decades in the game. It has worked itself into a fury trying to explain to the layman about his passion for the game; his unsurpassed mastery of the art of batting. It has tired of continuously extolling his virtues on and off the field as a champion and a true sportsman. So much so that when you want to write about Tendulkar or his exploits it pays to take some time to think deeply to try and not repeat either yourself or the numerous others who have tried their hand at the same exercise over the years. I have a confession to make. Nothing seemed to suggest itself as exemplary enough. As momentous and unique enough to grace yet another occasion, yet another peerless achievement by the maestro. For a while I was stymied when trying to write about his latest achievement - that of scoring a double century in an ODI contest. Yet another time when he carried his bat through and batted for his team's entire quota of 50 overs.
I have heard it said that emotions tend to illuminate even the darkest paths where the light of reason fizzles out and leaves you alone. This is a case in point. If following sport is in essence a vicarious pursuit into which you throw not yourself but your faiths on individual players and/or teams, then nobody qualifies to be a Vicar quite as much as Tendulkar. The magnitude of emotions, enjoyment and realization he has been able to convey and amplify to millions and maybe even billions of people over the years across borders of nationhood, religion, economic means, caste, creed and colour ensures that it is so.
It is not difficult to describe the drives, the cuts, the pulls and the cutest of nudges that he essayed today en route to the first ever double century in One Day Internationals. But it would merely be superfluous. His supporters may very well be in the right if they argue that this was always on the cards. A splendorous 175 earlier this year had already tantalized his fans. Informed and tempted them about this possibility. And when a summit beckons, Sachin cannot be far behind. He finds a way to the top. And so it was today. 200 not out off just 147 deliveries against the 3rd ranked side in the world. A successful man cannot have people simply singing praises about him. Ask his detractors. They would point out that the Roop Singh Stadium at Gwalior had short square boundaries, lightning fast outfields and an absolute marble-top of a wicket. And they would be absolutely right. But here is something they might consider. Give a top class artist a canvas. Give him a room and give him a vista. See what he comes up with. For the art produced thereof we credit the artist himself; not the canvas for its whiteness and blankness. Not the room for the comfort it offered. Not even the vista for its having conveniently presented itself. They are all incidental. Art is transcendental. So too is Tendulkar's batting.
Much has been made of his drive for runs. Of the man's sheer hunger for putting bat to ball and staying on there at the crease much to the bowlers' bemusement. Forget the fact that he is largely peerless and matchless. He also appears tireless with the bat in hand when you observe his speed and skill when sprinting up and down the wicket putting pressure on the fielders at 36 years of age. Countless have been the questions posed to him about his desire to play the game and of the day when he wants to hang up his boots. Perhaps they have been posed in an attempt to find out just how long the game will be graced by his presence. The game's own need of his genius does not however go far when trying to explain his superhuman dedication to the craft of batting and of the sheer determination that has powered him to make several sacrifices in order to be there for his team. In typical Sherlock Holmes' fashion, if we eliminate the possibilities one by one it only leaves one last item. That Sachin Tendulkar needs the game just like we mortals need our oxygen, our daily fix of sports and the fount of vicarious joy it promises. That his bat is not an extension of his body as has been often said. Perhaps quite the opposite - that he is an extension of his bat. That his body arranges itself conveniently so that the bat may strike the ball at the most opportune time with optimum speed. All the better for our vicarious enjoyment. That he gives of himself every time through his bat so that we may once again experience the heady breathlessness that sports brings into our lives. So that over the years we all have a bit of Sachin Tendulkar in us. And that he suggests, in the true spirit of Vicar-ship, the existence of sublimation and transcendentalism in sport, also leaving us with the comfort that even after he ceases to perform his superhuman deeds on the cricket pitch he will live on in our minds - fuelling our dreams and defining our spectrums of possibilities.
Add Comments
Read More
Comments (2)