The end of a dream?

As a child, I got interested in cricket around 1991 when India were playing in Australia for the Benson and Hedges series. The third team was West Indies. I vividly remember the first cricket match I watched. It was a cold December morning when Dad and I sat down to watch India play West Indies. India made a paltry 126 runs with most batsmen falling cheaply. West Indies made a mess of the chase and were nine wickets down with just 113 on the board. The last wicket partnership however added 13 more runs to equal India's tally. Dismayed that India was going to lose, I forlornly waited for the last ball of the over being bowled by a short man with a stock of curly hair. Dad told me that he had already given away five runs in five balls and most probably we shall lose on the next ball itself. He added that if we could get a wicket now, we shall tie or draw the match. Drawing the match seemed an awful lot better than losing - so I prayed fervently and willed the bowler to get a wicket. As the ball was bowled, suddenly everyone around myself and on the field erupted with joy! Not understanding but sensing the mood, I asked "Hum jeet gaye kya?".

"Beta, Sachin just got us a wicket!", was Dad's reply.

And realizing that the match was tied, I rejoiced. Sachin was the first name I knew in cricket. Sachin was the name of the protagonist of my first memorable cricketing moment. And Sachin was the name of my only hero for the next thirteen years!

A day or two after India lost 2-0 in the finals to Australia, Dad asked me during a math lesson to bring all newspaper reports of India's matches and to calculate batting averages for all Indian batsmen. Sachin's was again the highest!

On came the '92 World Cup in which India played quite poorly in most games. But there's one image from the tournament that I shall never forget. I think it was the match against New Zealand in which Sachin was caught in the deep when on a score of 84. Angry and frustrated at having missed a century, he wept on his way back to the pavilion. I remember weeping with him on that day!

My interest in cricket grew in direct proportion to my admiration and love for Sachin's performances on the field. Soon I realized that Sachin was not only India's best player - there were people who dared call him the world's best batsman! My heart swelled with pride. Soon enough, I was watching cricket only so I could see Sachin win.

I doubt if anyone outside my family has given me more reasons and occasions to be happy than Sachin Tendulkar. The memorable last over in the Hero Cup final - the brutal 82 in New Zealand in his first innings as opener - his first ODI century after six remarkable years of international cricket - the thiry-six that have follwed since then - his exploits in the '96 World Cup - the mauling Shane Warne received in '98 - single-handedly winning the tournament in Sharjah - the superhuman 140 against Kenya when just the day before he had cremated his father - the succulent six of Shoaib Akhtar in the last World Cup. These are a few images that flash through my mind when I think of Sachin's career. These are moments I grew up with. And these are moments that make up the dream that began on that wintry December day when Sachin dismissed Andrew Cummins to tie the match.

Unfortunately, I fear that the dream may be coming to an end. The Sachin of today seems to be a pale shadow of the dominating figure he was four years ago. The first major reverse he suffered in his career was the back injury he sustained after Australia toured India. No longer could Sachin pull or drive with abandon as he used to. His back was at a risk while playing any lofted shot, more so with the hooks and the lofted straight drives. Sachin practically deleted the shots from his repertoire and continued tormenting bowlers. A more significant setback was soon to follow. Soon after, he was appointed India's captain for a second time and India performed miserably while he was at the helm. Whatever be the reasons, I feel his failure as India's captain had a tremendous impact on his confidence. He has never been the same again.

True, we are still fortunate enough to see occasional flashes of brilliance. But when I think of Sachin, I do not think of brilliant flashes. Rather, I think of a continuous stream of brilliance that started over a decade ago. He makes enough runs today, but his runs do not give me the kind of happiness they used to. Today when he scores runs, he toils hard like any normal batsman, much different from the child prodigy who used to effortlessly smash bowlers all over the park. The arrogance in his batting has gone and with it has gone the aura of invincibility that surrounded the man.

This post was sparked off because I had this discussion with a friend on whether Sachin was responsible for India's recent defeat in the Asia Cup final. No he wasn't. In fact he was the best Indian batsman on display in the final. While India's loss might be the team's collective fault, Sachin's fault lies elsewhere. I remember a Sachin who would not only win us matches, but win us entire tournaments on his batting prowess alone! In this tournament he got two tailor-made opportunities to bail his team out of trouble (against Pakistan and in the final). Both were crucial matches and in both he was the best Indian batsman on display. And in both India lost. And in both these matches I got the distinct feeling that Sachin cracked under pressure! The man who could win a match alone, now needs a team to support him! Should I be faulted if I think that somewhere along the line, he changed from an out-and-out legend to just a great batsman?

Legend he may still become. But not all cricketing legends are my heroes. My hero was someone who was the world's most attractive, most attacking and most productive batsman - all at the same time. Today his batting is neither as attractive nor as attacking, just productive. Nothing saddens me more than this realization and nothing would make me happier than if Sachin were to regain his old self.