Tendulkar: The God of all things

In 1989, during the selection of the Indian team for the tour to Pakistan, the selectors – led by the late Raj Singh Dungarpur – were faced with a tricky question. They had in their minds an outrageously talented young boy, Sachin Tendulkar, who they were sure would represent India with distinction.

The question they wrestled with was whether the boy should be thrust into the lion’s den so soon.

And the den couldn’t have been more hostile than a tour of Pakistan, facing the likes of Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis and Imran Khan in their backyard, with crowds everywhere baying for the blood of the Indians.

Would selecting the boy for the tour be the right decision? Would it leave him with mental scars that would retard his development? Would they be risking a potentially world-beating future for a tenuous present?

The selectors then were each nominated from different zones in the country. As they debated the question – so the story goes – two of the selectors thought the boy was ready, and two of them wanted to wait.

The ones who wanted to wait had the valid question: “What if the tour proves to be too much? What if he fails?”

On hearing this, another selector turned to the fifth man in the room, who had not expressed his opinion yet. This was the West Zone selector who had seen the boy blitz all comers across all playing divisions. The words he is supposed to have said sealed the deal in favour of selection.

The selector from the West Zone simply said: “Gentlemen, Sachin Tendulkar does not fail.”

And he hasn’t – for twenty years and counting.

Batman puts on a cape, Spiderman wears a costume, Superman sheds his normal clothes to reveal his true self – Sachin Tendulkar needs only to pick up a bat in hand to be a superhero.

This is not an attempt to dissect the man statistically. It is not an attempt to provide expert views on his cricket. It is not an attempt to add to the paeans being sung about him as the cricketing world celebrates twenty years of excellence.

This is simply an intensely personal view by a fan of a man who remained a hero from boyhood to adolescence and beyond.

What do twenty years mean to a fan? It means a vignette of images that Tendulkar has left us with.

From running around in a playground during the 1992 World Cup and yelling, “India beat Pakistan. Tendulkar is the man of the match!” to remembering the headline that announced that Tendulkar had scored his second ODI century after taking an inordinate amount of time to score his first – a headline that said, “Rutherford Ruthless, Parore Roars, but Tendulkar, Prabhakar steal the limelight.”

From getting excited in 1994 when he made his then-highest Test score of 179, to feeling cheated when he was not awarded the Man-of-the-series in the 1996 World Cup for being the highest and classiest scorer in the tournament.

From remembering the painful struggle he went through as captain in 1997 – when he had to battle not only opponents but officials as well – to feeling exhilarated throughout much of 1998, as the destroyer in Tendulkar returned to quell not just Australians, but sandstorms too on an unforgettable night in Sharjah.

From having our hearts broken along with his when he miscued a Saqlain doosra in the Chennai Test of 1999, to having our faith in the game restored during the match-fixing scandal, when it was revealed that bookies would take bets on Indian matches only after he got out.

From remembering the 2003 World Cup as an image forever frozen of Tendulkar cutting Shoaib Akhtar over third-man for maximum, to shaking our heads in disbelief in 2004 at the amazing self-control of a man who did not play a single cover drive in an innings of 241 not out.

From exulting with him at burying the ghost of ‘finishing’ matches for India in the CB series in 2008, to the sharing his solemn joy and humility at bringing a Test victory to the nation immediately after his city had been ravaged by scum towards the end of the year.

As the years rolled by, we got used to a different Tendulkar, and his 2003 heroics seemed the last time he would throw back the years and bat as he had in his youth. His average and strike rates didn’t suffer, but he had made a subtle shift from run-plunderer to intelligent accumulator.

And then, as he so often has in the past, he showed us that the plunderer still remained in a knock that was as inspiring as it was heart-breaking.

Through proxy-wars and floods, through terrorist attacks and droughts, through living under corrupt politicians and battling for survival at work or school – through it all, it was one man that brought us hope. One man who needed only to wield a bat to unite the most diverse country in the world.

A hero who did not need a script, arc-lights and endless retakes to have the audience gasping in awe, but played out his dramas in real-time.

The sages who seek silence to meditate go to the loneliest reaches of the planet to achieve it. But if they were looking for that unreal moment when there is a silence so pervading that you could hear a feather drop, they need to attend a match in India when Sachin Tendulkar plays.

Most of the time, when he bats, the noise will be deafening. But when gets out, as he must because he is mortal, they will hear the most deafening silence that it is possible to hear. And they will hear it in a stadium jam-packed with frenzied fans who have all come to pay homage to their God.

Even in defeat, Sachin Tendulkar weaves miracles.

Like this content? Buzz it up!

Free Email updates:

• Get a daily Cricket email

Our daily emails are only sent if there is content for the sport or that author. You can subscribe to multiple daily emails; or get the daily Roar email with all our content in it. We value privacy. More...