Just Bat

"Written when Sachin Tendulkar was about to come back after tennis elbow surgery"

He was ten years old and was scourge of the bowlers from this end of the gulli to that. They would all wake up at 5:00 in the morning, hastily put on the chaddis and jump down the stairs to the empty road below. He was always the first to be down there, would arrange couple of bricks to mark the bowlers end and his cycle at the other end with the front wheel as the make-do wickets. By this time others would have come and captains designate for the day would have split up the teams. He was always the first one to be picked and the other captain got to pick three players and first batting chance in exchange for him. He had argued against this system a couple of times as he didn’t take too much time to knock off the runs batting second. But everyone else liked it this way. He would make up for it by staying back with a couple of buddies, who didn’t mind the punishment too much, after others had gone home to get ready for the school. Of course he had to buy them a couple of candies on the way to school. School passed in a haze, except on days when there was a “Sports” period. As soon as the final bell would ring, he would run to the cycle stand, pick up his cycle, ride home, drop his bag, grab a couple of biscuits and his bat and down he would be. As in the morning, he was the first one to be there. They would play till their moms would start shouting from the windows announcing that it was dinner time. But he would stay on alone, knocking around the ball against the wall, throwing it high in the air and then catching it. His mom would then come down and had to drag him up by his ears.

All this flashed through his mind as he lay in his hospital bed. The surgery had been successful. But now the long painful period of healing would begin. Doctors had said it might take anything from 4 weeks to 4 months and even then there was no guarantee that his elbow would recover its former strength. With a weakened elbow, he knew, he wouldn’t be half the batsman he is capable of being. For last couple of years the thought of life after retirement had come like a recurring nightmare. He had managed to push it off, an eventuality to be handled in future. But this was present. Suddenly retirement seemed perilously close. Now there was no time and no space to push things off. Decisions had to be taken, sacrifices made. And he had decided to go under the knife, to sacrifice next 4 months for perhaps 4 more years.
No guarantee. How easy for a doctor to say, but those two words were breaking him now. Ever since those hours playing gulli cricket, he had been sure of one thing. He had to bat. Not because he wanted to bat or because he could bat extremely well. But because batting was part of who he was, part of his existence. He had to bat just like a bird had to fly. But now the surgeon’s voice echoed again and again in his mind. That night he couldn’t sleep.

He was riding his cycle real fast. That evening they had a really important match against the kids from the neighboring mohalla. He had been thinking about this since morning. They had all practiced an extra half an hour in the morning. It was a strong team they were up against and all the hopes were on him. He didn’t see the large stone lying on the road. When he woke up he couldn’t move his left leg and it felt a bit heavier. He realized that this was not his bed and not his room. He was discharged a couple of days later, but the plaster wouldn’t come off for another month. That night he had cried.

He wasn’t even allowed to lift a bat for some time. Even the smallest of movements in his arm would cause extreme pain. He tried to while away time by watching reruns of his old recordings. He also saw some of India’s live matches on TV . But all this only gave him more pain. Pain more severe than the pain in his arm. Therefore he started spending more and more time with his family and detached himself from the game as much as he could. But he waited patiently for the day when he would be able to feel that familiar sensation once again. The shock of cricket ball hitting the bat, which would move through his arm, up through this same elbow to pulsate his brain. That shock wave and the beautiful sound made as the bat made contact with the ball. He waited for that. And as he waited his mind again went back to that incident in his childhood. So far away in past yet now it seemed just like yesterday.

For initial few days he used to sit on the sidewalk and watch his buddies play. He would cheer every big hit and boo every dropped catch. But everyone knew this was just a façade. Sitting on that sidewalk only caused him anguish. Over and over again he would imagine himself in the place of the batsman. To every ball bowled, he would imagine at least a couple of ways of dispatching it to the boundary. And then to his horror would see the batsman play the completely wrong shot. Every shot would pierce his heart, every run would wet his eyes. So he stopped sitting there. He would still talk to his buddies and ask them all the details about the game that day. But he never again sat on that sidewalk.

The night before he was to face his first international ball in 6 months, he wasn’t sure whether he was ready. He had played a couple of domestic matches, had practiced hard in the nets. But he was worried. He didn’t know how to approach the game . In last couple of years his batting style had changed completely. He had become more defensive, mellow, tried to be more responsible. Yet he knew he had missed something. Now tomorrow, all the eyes will be on him. In fact for past few days, all the talk had been about his comeback, rather than the teams performance. He doesn’t like it that way, but can't help it. Should he try to play cautiously, feel his way back, or should he throw caution to the wind? Thinking of all this he fell asleep. And then he dreamt.

He was ten years old. The plaster was off. As usual he was the first to be down on the road. In fact he had woken up at 4:30 and was down much earlier. So he had to wait impatiently for the others. He had cajoled them into letting him bat first just for this day. Soon everything was set up. The bowler started his run up. He thumped his bat on the road, then on his shoe and then on the road again. He was ready. As soon as the ball was out of the bowlers hand he realized that it was going to be over pitched. He just moved ahead a bit and knocked it straight for a six. Next one was short and he hit it for a four. Third ball was again short and this time he hit it straight into the windows of an apartment. He was out because such were the rules of the gully cricket. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even care about how many runs he had scored. He was just happy to be out there.  His world was back to normal, the flight was resumed. He was just ecstatic to have batted once again. That’s all he had wanted to do for past one month. Just Bat.

As he woke up in the morning, he realized that all the anxiety of last night had disappeared. He felt calm, like he had not felt in last six months. As he put on his pads, he knew exactly what he had to do out there. He knew that as each ball was bowled, he would know precisely what to do with the ball. He knew that he had to go out there and Just Bat.

On Shane Warnes Retirement

"Written in Dec 06 after Shane Warne Retired"

They came in numbers. They came beating their drums and waving their red
kercheifs. The came to pay homage to their favourite son. That was three years
ago in 2003/04 when it seemed whole of sydney had gathered in SCG to bid adieu
to Steven Waugh. Now very soon, too soon infact, SCG will be the arena for the
final act of their prodigal son, Shane Keith Warne. And once again we can be
sure sydneites will not disappoint. We can hope to see young men wearing blonde
wigs, young women wearing well something atleast. But it will be a celebration
like it was that day. Mourning will happen before and after, but that day
itself will be one of festivity. Maybe there will be tears or maybe warne will
hold them back, though he has hardly ever held anything back.

Its the final climactic act of any play that lingers the longest in the memory,
the parting shot. And for steve waugh that day epitomised the entire career.
For the image that he had always conjured up in our minds was that of a
fighter. And there was one fight whose loss had hurt him the most, against
Indians in 2001. Now he was about to suffer another at the same hands. And to
add to the insult it was at his home ground. The stage was set. So it was apt
that he would go out trying to stave off his rampaging arch rivals. And he
succeeded in drawing the match and the series with a gutsy 84. The farewell
could not have been scripted better.

On the other hand, the image warne has always produced, the image that has left
indelible scars on a generation of english cricketers, is that of a predator.
He stalks his prey never letting the pressure off, each ball a signal of his
intent. And england have always been willing prey. Many a Cook and Bell have been
done for in the glare of warnes headlights.Each thud of ball on the pitch stamps
fear in their heart wondering when the final pounce will come. And it has always
come, inevitably, year after year. Therefore it is apt that warnes final act is a feast of Pom fry. What a feast it will be! Another perfect farewell.

Golden age of cricket viewing is coming to an end.

Mukul Kesvan writes about the strange death of indian cricket in his blog. I agree with his views completely and here is my take on it.

I am 27 years old as of this date and I believe I have been privileged to belong to the golden generation of Indian Cricket Audience. Anyone born in late 70s or early 80s can claim to belong to this generation. We are most impressionable in the later part of our first decade and early teens. No longer do our experiences pass us in a disconnected flow of events. We start forming a coherent picture from events around and in the process are affected at a deeper emotional level. Yet we are not mature enough to look at them objectively. 

We (and yes I agree with you that folding into a collective “We” is coolest for any sports fan), that is my generation, reached that age around late 80s and early 90s. And it was then that three important things started and continued throughout 90s. Firstly television became a household item and cable channels started gaining a foothold in Indian market. Secondly one day cricket started gaining a respectability and mass adulation that probably test cricket alone would have never achieved. Thirdly, and most importantly, a little man exploded on the Indian cricket scene named Sachin Tendulkar. I remember having a discussion with a friend during one of the early tours of Sachin. My friend told me that Sachin cannot speak English properly and I just refused to believe him. Ridiculous though it sounds now, it shows that right from the beginning of his career, he had captured my imagination like no other cricketer. Even then he could do no wrong.

Of course these 3 factors are not disconnected. In fact it is in there synergy that a more complete explanation is to be found for the phenomenal popularity of cricket in 90s. Magic of Sachin pulled more and more people to there television sets and fed the popularity of one day cricket. Yet that magic was in large part due to the fact, that Sachin was by nature a quintessential one day batsman and his aggression was coupled by a sublime beauty that probably a voice on radio could not have expressed. Television box became a canvas where he could paint his masterpieces day after day. Add to this the fact that he became the face of all sorts of myriad products, thus appearing on TV almost every single day. Sachin and cricket became an integral part of our life. We felt as if we were growing up alongside the master. People of younger generation missed the earlier part of his career while those of older were too wise and busy to be infected like us. 

But now sadly all these factors are losing there importance and from the dizzy heights of this golden period, we will probably fall straight into a chasm. With other sports especially EPL increasingly gaining prominence on sports channel, overload of ODIs many of which are complete mismatches and the impending retirement of Sachin, the age of cricket viewing is coming to an end. 

I myself am a big arsenal fan and am delighted by the sorcery of the wily frenchman every week. Yet none of his elegant passes and cool finishes can take me to the same stratospheric heights that Sachin’s backfoot punch or that signature straight drive can. Sadly in a few years, all that will remain of these are treasured memories and old recordings that only a few middle aged balding farts like me would care to watch.

The Sorcerer's Failed Spell

"Written when Laxman was omitted from India world cup squad in 07"

In a few weeks time Indian cricket team would have left for the far off shores to begin their world cup campaign. For every player boarding the flight there will be a few hopefuls left behind. Looking at that unfortunate list, your eyes will surely halt at one name. You will think that if this player has been left behind, then the Indian team must be an embarrassment of batting riches. You will be grossly mistaken. For in terms of batting pedigree and ability this man is in top 4-5 in the country. And in terms of artistry and genius, V V S Laxman sits next only to Sachin Tendulkar. If Azharuddin is the author of “Wristwork for dummies” then Laxman has been scripting “The Art of Wristy Batting” throughout his career. Yet this high art will not be on display in the biggest cricketing carnival. Laxman would finish his career without featuring in a single world cup out of the three (or four) that his career would span.

Laxman has always evoked in my mind an image on another man, a footballer. The playmaker from Argentina and VillaReal, Juan Roman Riquelme. Only a season ago he was at the peak of his powers and was being touted as a probable world player of the year soon. But today he has retired from International football and finds himself out of favor at villareal. Both these men are weaver of dreams exhibiting there own special brand of there sport. Artist’s heart caught in a sportsman’s body. Unfortunately also an artist’s Achille’s heel jutting out of an athletes foot. They suffer from something similar to writers block. There have been matches where riquelme has looked lost, not knowing what to do, searching for his muse. Similarly for laxman when the boundaries have dried, he does not take the option of smart singles, but keeps on hoping that the touch would return. But football and one day cricket moves at too fast a pace and a team carrying such a player on such a day would find the going hard. 

Just yesterday utility man Paul Collingwood showed what can be achieved with electric fielding and gutsy batting peppered with quick singles. For laxman these have been always been trouble areas. In spite of his claims that he has worked hard on these and has improved, on the international stage not much has changed. His running between the wickets remains as woeful as ever. And his favorite fielding position after the slips must be somewhere beyond the boundary ropes. These are the factors that have weighed against him and weakened his case. Hard done which we connoisseurs of his art might feel, we have to accept that there is some justification for his denial yet again. 

What we will not accept is if injustice is done in Test cricket, of which there were some indications last year. It is in the arena of Test Cricket, that laxman’s talent have blossomed. Therein he finds time and space to dream on and with slip being a crucial position is an important contributor in field too. We should not be denied of that. At least for next couple of years the graceful flick of the wand should keep on casting mesmerising spells.

Next few posts

Next few posts are just reposts for stuff that I have written which is scattered in various places. I just want to consolidate it here.

How did we come to this: Biography of a recession.

Sep 13, 2006 - HONG KONG (XFN-ASIA) - Global productivity is improving and an economic recession is not necessarily due next year, the International Monetary Fund's chief economist Raghuram Rajan told the Financial Times

Feb 27, 2007 - AP. HONG KONG, Feb. 26 -- Former Federal Reserve chairman Alan Greenspan warned Monday that the US economy might slip into recession by year's end

Sep 16, 2007 - Sep. 16--Credit markets are in turmoil, employment numbers are down, stock traders are nervous and the word "recession" is being mentioned in polite company for the first time in years

Dec 18, 2007 - AP. NEW YORK: Alan Greenspan thinks there is a 50 percent chance the US economy will head into a recession. Let's hope this is just another fumbled forecast by the former Federal Reserve chairman

Jan 18, 2008 - Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke and President George W. Bush have announced a plan to rescue the US economy from recession

Feb 6, 2008 - An economic survey showing that the US service sector contracted sharply in January leaves little doubt the economy is headed for recession, economists said

Apr 4, 2008 - AP. WASHINGTON: Dismal employment data released Friday is not just the latest sign the US economy is in recession, it is also a warning that this one could hurt more than the previous two.

Aug 14, 2008 - Germany and France toppled into the start of a possible recession today

Sep 24, 2008 - LJUBLJANA, Sept 24 (Reuters) - The European Central Bank does not yet view the euro zone economy as being in recession

Nov 14, 2008 - By AOIFE WHITE , 11.14.08, 06:09 AM EST. The 15 countries that use the euro are officially in a recession, the European Union said Friday

Dec 4, 2008 - Dec 4 (Reuters) - From the United States to Asian export giant Japan to European powerhouse Germany, the world's top economies are now in recession as the global financial crisis deepens.

Jan 5, 2009 - By Nigel Morris, Deputy Political Editor. The recession could last as long as two years without urgent action to boost the world economy, Gordon Brown acknowledged yesterday as Britain braced itself for a surge of new year redundancies

I have spared you many of the gory details but if you are interested blood is writ large in Google news archives. 

Federer and Nadal

Not more than two years ago we were talking of Federer winning close to 20 Grand slam tournaments. And Federer winning the grandslam sooner or later was supposed to be a foregone conclusion. But life can be cruel and sports more so. People had not foreseen Rafa becoming such an unstoppable juggernaut and having such a hold over Federer. I do not think any of the above is going to happen now. Infact I will stick my neck out and say that the only chance Federer now has of winning any of Australian Open, Wimbledon or US Open (French open is out of question) is if he does not meet Nadal in the final. He has to pray and pray real hard that someone upsets Nadal in the earlier rounds.

Nadal has gotten inside his head and created deep scars in his brain. Scars that do not heal and which only get deeper with every contest between these two.  Watching Federer cry yesterday was sad but also an indication of how helpless he feels against this bull from Spain. He just does not look the same sublime silky Federer which rolls over every other foe. He screwed up almost all the crucial points. In the third set, he was up 0-40 on Nadals serve and lost it. In the next Nadals service game he was up 15-40 and screwed it. In the 5th set he screwed up big time. It might be the worst set he has ever played. He made seven straight unforced errors to first lose his service game and then go 0-40 down in Nadal's. He made a double fault in his last service game.  His first service was shambolic. I do not think that in that last service game he got even a single first serve in. He missed easy volleys, made endless errors on his reliable backhand. I saw the whole match and I just kept on waiting and waiting for some stroke of genius from Federer. But it never came.  Nadal outran him, outhit him, outclassed him. And this was a man who had just played an epic 5 hour long 5 setter just one day ago.  I think now Nadal is the man most likely to win a career grand slam. Its only US open that remains and he should get it this year or the next. 

A couple of years ago there was talk of Federer cometing only against history. Well history can take a break because present has thrown up this bundle of muscles and steel who might just create a history of his own. And for Federer I am sure chasing history was much easier than chasing this man.