On a rainy evening of 1990, as we were taking a walk around the neighbourhood, my father told me a young Indian schoolboy had taken the English bowling attack to task in an ongoing match. Quite improbable, I thought, for I had a faint idea of the lethality of someone called Devon Malcolm. Intrigued, I tuned in to my first viewing of the game. I did not tune out ever again, until yesterday morning.
The phenomenon of Sachin Tendulkar to me is far beyond his mind-numbing career statistics which began getting discussed only somewhere in the last decade. He had become my hero well before I had warmed up to the game of cricket. The smooth, angular movement of his blade had me in awe well before I knew it was called a 'flick off the pads'. I secretly prayed I could grow up to be a short man. Before I knew it, Sachin Tendulkar and cricket in that order, had begun to govern every living moment of my childhood.
I bought a cricket bat and broke it soon. I enrolled in a summer cricket camp and was rolled out soon. Over the years, other priorities were made to take precedence over my directionless cricket frenzy. But Tendulkar had become a constant in my life. He stood for inspiration, passion and discipline, a little of each of which I could do with as I hit adolescence. I remember how I bunked school to watch him play. During my board exams, he chose to be at his scintillating best. Just my luck, but I struck a deal with my folks that I'd lock myself back in the study once I was done watching him bat. A Tendulkar innings took precedence over everything, and this was tacit law in the household. Time came to a halt every time he walked out to bat. His bat never ceased to wield its magic.
With time, reality dawned: he was only human. He failed too. But when he did, it made me irritable and upset. Every time he walked back to the pavilion, I wondered if he knew there was a boy sitting devastated somewhere. It was a while before I knew I was not the only one with the grouse.
Various injuries and career slumps later, people began suggesting fans get over him. Everyone knew this was a distant possibility, including the ones who suggested so. Every time cynics thought they had seen the end of him, he rose like a phoenix, bettering the Tendulkar we had seen previously. We made ourselves believe this dream would never end even as we acknowledged it would.
Once I was exposed to the various uncertainties of my own career, to blundered decisions and to nebulous aspirations, I saw what really made him my hero. He was just another man born to the same country riddled with inefficiencies and flawed systems. But he lived his dream. He defied physical limitations, unsolicited advice, unwarranted slander, and arguably the demons in his own mind. He rose above his own stature, retained his humility, and taught us the worth of grit.
Sachin Tendulkar brought delight to billions of fans across the world. This may merely be incidental to the pursuit of his own ambitions, but the enormity of his legend makes us believe in our dreams a lot more. Today, as he calls it a day, I feel somewhat cheated. It's like a segment of my memories has been stolen. But then, the legend knows better. I only wish this show could go on. In hindsight, it still does - because that elegant straight drive down the ground is going down in the pages of sporting history as one of the most delightful sights ever.
