PRIMAL PEDIGREE

This was a piece I had penned back in April. Now that Virender Sehwag has again demonstrated how he can swing matches single-handedly with an astonishing 293 (shame that he couldn't get to be the first player to get to 3 triple centuries, but don't bet against him) against Sri Lanka in the third test match at Mumbai, it is an apt time to share this unpublished piece of work celebrating the force of nature that is Viru!

THE third match in the second season of the Indian Premier League presented a very peculiar situation for Virender Sehwag, the Delhi Daredevils skipper. In a match already shortened to 12 overs a side, the Kings XI Punjab had put up 104 runs on the board and rain and the intervention of Messer’s Duckworth and Lewis were imminent. Suddenly, the Daredevils were chasing 60 odd runs in a six – six! – over game. Unperturbed, Sehwag did not put a foot wrong or change his approach even a wee bit as Delhi romped home in an innings as short as a commercial break! And that is the value of Virender Sehwag, the matchwinner. He can win you test matches, he can chase down targets in one day matches with unbelievable ease and his mental make up and physical aggression is just perfect for the Twenty20 version too. Turns out, he can even win you six over contests. In terms of match winning and sheer impact on the game, in modern times there simply isn’t anyone who comes close to the marauder from Delhi. Wisden chose him as the ‘Leading Cricketer in the World’ for 2008, and a run through of what he achieved in that year, not just in terms of statistics but sheer game changing power, is enough to illustrate the point. Viru is a match winner, one whose mould was destroyed once they made him. Writes Ravi Shastri in Wisden, ‘Virender Sehwag is a marvel of modern times, a genius who has confounded conventional wisdom, whose daring is now a part of cricket's folklore’.

You can take a look at the stats for evidence. His improved figures (his ODI average jumps an amazing 27 points in wins since 1^st May 2007) in wins bear out his contribution, but then, with Sehwag numbers never capture the whole story. Audacity and gumption are things that are not taught at coaching clinics and neither are they measurable through an average or a strike rate. Consider this stat – In matches won while chasing in a one day international (since May 2007) his average stands at a whooping 73.50 in 9 matches. Numbers can merely vaguely reflect the kind of impression that he’s left on every venue he’s played his cricket in. There is no denying that India’s recent dominance at home and brilliance abroad has been fuelled by a hungry and lethal bowling attack, a solid middle order batting base, an astute captain and generally sharper fielding. But just look back at 2008 and you realize the Sehwag signature is there all over. A phenomenal strike rate of 85 per 100 balls in Test (yes, Test!) cricket, and 120 in One Day Internationals are testimony to how he can change things, and change them quick! When he’s at the crease, time becomes a blur. There was the fastest triple century in Test history against South Africa, a stunning effort by any standards (‘After 200 runs, I was very tired and wanted to score runs quickly but Rahul Dravid told me that if you can hold on and stay there for a while and use this lifetime opportunity to score your second triple hundred…so I played my game patiently and it worked in my favor’ ) followed by a double hundred in a Test in Sri Lanka where the rest of the batsmen struggled to even get to fifty. Paradoxically, Sehwag hasn’t been all about an ephemeral ‘Crash! Boom! Bang!’ in Tests, 11 of his 15 Test hundreds are scores of 150+.

The debate has often raged as to whether Sehwag is the greatest Indian batsman. It’s a little preposterous to propose that at this moment, but he definitely belongs to a class of one – a unique force of nature that’s a marvelous mixture of technique and tenacity, a combination where the cerebral meets the cocky. His own philosophy and approach towards the game is incredibly simple and clutter free. When asked about his approach at dominating bowlers most of the time he said, ‘We played with the 20-20 format when I was a little boy and all I did was apply the same mindset to international cricket.’ How’s that for simplicity? Sure, living on the edge like he does at the crease has its disadvantages, but if he were to let those concerns rule, we would all be missing the point. He has altered the psychological underpinnings of putting bat to ball, just calling it aggression would be doing his attitude and approach a disservice. He is a performer so powerful that it’s impossible to imagine every form of the game without him.

Virender Sehwag is about testing, what a TV program in the 1980s called ‘The Outer Limits’. He’s the mad scientist of world cricket, unafraid to experiment and back his guts, consequences be damned. After all, there is a bit of madness in every genius.

MY TENDULKAR TRYSTS

2013 Update: This was written four years ago.

And while the world didnt quite end in 2012, we finally have to reckon with the prospect of cricket without Sachin.

I dont need to overemphasize that it wont be the same anymore.

"Cricket lives in my heart and whenever I'm on a cricket field I enjoy it, and somewhere there's still a 16-year-old hidden inside who wants to go out and express himself" said Sachin Tendulkar in an interview to Cricinfo.com as he completes a phenomenal 20 years at the international level, pretty much all of them at the top of his game. Genius is such a cliche and legend such a trite adjective that they do no justice in capturing the luminosity of Sachin's radiance in the cricket world. 

Newspapers, magazines, TV channels and of course websites on the internet have been working up a frenzy as the master hit a rare milestone (quick, think of another international cricketer who's spent 20 years indisputably at the top. Can't think of any? Thought so!) and all his innings, achievements and impact on the game have been super analyzed to bits. I would spare you a re run of all that, dear reader, because I wish to offer my connection with the Tendulkar universe. Firstly, in the interest of disclosure, I have never met Sachin Tendulkar. The nearest I have come to him is about 20 feet, and there was still a boundary rope, a gutter, and a six feet high fence between us. And yes, there happened to be an India Pakistan test match going on. Further disclosure, in my three years as a (sort of) sports writer, I have never had the fortune of an interview (telephonic or e-mail. What about a personal interview, you ask? Well, hello! I told you I have never met him! And I'm sure it's illegal or something to try and hurl questions at a cricketer fielding at fine leg during an test match!) or even a press conference (lousy press pass!). Truth be told, it's perhaps a good thing that I've always admired him as a fan for the pure joy he has brought to our lives through his expression of the game and his dedication to it. 

My view and connection remains untainted by the need to criticize or compare or the urge to sully or sensationalize. To me, he remains the embodiment of Bob Dylan's classic song 'Forever Young'. And that's why that line at the beginning makes so much sense. For Sachin, I wish to remain the 10-year old cricket fan forever who doesn't have to analyze why his average drops in the fourth innings of a test match, or figure out why India lose even when he bats brilliantly, or suspect that he plays for a milestone sometimes, or question his captaincy credentials or theorize that he has a weakness against the ball that seams in. Of course, I can talk about Sachin's great innings - Sachinnings (one Sharjah paper called a hundred of his against Pakistan in 1996 'Sachinnings!' and I've stuck to that ever since!). Like that hundred in the desert storm in Sharjah against Australia and the one immediately after that in the final of that tournament. Or the outstanding pain barrier conquering yet Greek hero like tragic epic at Chennai against Paksitan. Or the masterfully manipulated and controlled 'look ma, no off side' double ton at Sydney. Or the cracking 114 on a fast Perth wicket where men twice his age were after him trying to take his head off. Or that poignant return against Kenya at the World Cup 24 hours after his dad's funeral. Or even that un-batting contribution of a nerveless over against South Africa at the Eden Gardens in the Hero Cup semi final in 1993 where he had just six runs to defend! I mean, you get the picture.

Almost 30,000 international runs and a mind boggling near about 100 international tons and the numerous other records, the innings and the achievements cannot be captured even in a fraction of their grandeur in a puny blog like this. But there is a perfect Sachin moment I'd like to share with everyone. It was the fifth and deciding ODI on India's historic tour to Pakistan in 2004 and India, having put 293 on the board were looking to pile on the pressure. But Inzamam Ul Haq unleashed a few classy strokes and was growing in confidence threatening to bring Pakistan back into the contest. He lofted the left armer Murali Karthik over mid on and the shot looked good enough for a six, before Tendulkar plucked it off right on the boundary rope pulling off a superb catch. 

"The flat hit seemed to have just enough strength to clear long-on, but Tendulkar, skirting dangerously close to the boundary, hung on to the ball even as he ensured that he didn't step on the rope" wrote Cricinfo in their match bulletin. He ran wild with enthusiasm having contributed vitally by cutting Inzamam's dangerous looking innings short and the childlike excitement on his face as he celebrated was impossibly infectious. Seeing Sachin celebrate with such boundless mirth was an uplifting experience in itself. As the umpires confirmed that he was not touching the rope when he held the catch, what Sanjay Manjrekar said on commentary was telling. He said, 'If Sachin's claiming the catch, it has to be out!' He has always been a sportsman first, a superstar much, much later. And to top it all, it was Sachin's 100th catch in ODIs. Of course, with Sachin you're never far from a milestone. That one moment captures almost everything about what Sachin Tendulkar brings to the game.

Excellence, a lot of other players have in loads, but genial humanity and strength of character? Try searching a coaching book for those chapters. He has always been driven and happy to contribute to the game he loves so much, and that love has made millions of others feel a rush that they will never forget in their lives. Look at the picture above and seeing Sachin acknowledge the congratulations of the groundsmen after winning the Chennai test against England in 2008 tells you all you need to know. If you are looking for a soundtrack to describe his legacy in the world of cricket I have the perfect piece - Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 whose last movement contains the words from the poem 'Ode to Joy'! Yes, Sachin will retire one day (I can't imagine that day because all my proper cricket watching life I've never had to confront that possibility). 

If the world is coming to an end on Dec. 21, 2012 like the Mayans say, my only wish is that Sachin retires on Dec 20!

IN DEFENCE OF GOLIATH

EVERYBODY wants to root for the underdog. It's nothing novel, or radical. After all, some of the most fascinating sports stories are where the proverbial David and his humble slingshot are able to take down the proverbial Goliath. But spare a thought for Goliath here, the superperformer, the man to beat, the undisputed champion (till of course, David introduces the dispute!).

Since I started watching baseball and specifically Major League Baseball about a decade ago, I have hated the New York Yankees. They seemed to be on a roll, wrapping every pennant and title in sight, virtually untouchable packed with some of the most awesome talent (MLB's biggest payroll can buy you lots of the good stuff!) and their storied leagcy only reinforcing their aura. For a first time baseball fan, they are a perfect starting base to enjoy the game - the big historical heroes like Joe Di Maggio and Babe Ruth, the current generation superstars like A-Rod and Derek Jeter and of course the lure of New York, New York! But the splendour and almost too easy success somehow did not appeal to me. In the same vein, I didn't go with Manchester United when I started watching the Premier League and I sure as heck wasn't going to back Australia when watching a cricket match. It's not a coincidence that the Yankees' 27 World Series titles are the most in MLB history, Australia have 4 World Cups to their credit (three straight from 1999-2007) and Man U have the most Premier League titles (currently tied at 19 with Liverpool, but the way this season's going they should head the table soon). Or even look at Real Madrid, undoubtedly the true Goliaths of European Football. All these teams have great pasts and look brilliantly solid for a great run in the future. And that's perhaps why, apart from their fans, almost everybody else loves to hate them. It is easy to despise the 'Big Guy'. There's
always the anti established kind of sentiment that spreads like wildfire and everyone else would give an arm and a leg (well, if that sounds far fetched, ask the Afghans who fought Russia) to see the Big Guy take a tumble.

Somehow, Big equals Evil. A little digression into the world of business - when Google was a start up challenging Microsoft everyone loved them, but now suddenly, as Google grows big, it has become the 'evil' corporation! But consider for a moment a world without these Goliaths. No Roger Federer in tennis, or Tiger
Woods in Golf or Yanks in baseball, and the sports littered with small teams of almost equal abilities. Sports fans would have a boring time having no one to direct their hatred at. Big Guns are, in my opinion, those who bring in the real excitement and along the way absorb enormous amounts of hatred and crticism for everything from tactics (Aussie sledging?) to abuse of money and power (Real buying the hottest footballers every season) to even large scale cheating (Juventus accused of running a systematic doping program in Italian Serie A) .

Watching the Yankees this year at the World Series in baseball against the Philadephia Phillies (I was obviously rooting for the Phillies) made me realize that you look at an efficient and ruthless sports team and you realize that being Goliath is not so easy after all. And most of the times, Goliath's win is what lends that feeling around you that there is some order in the world. An occasional chaotic moment, an upset win, a huge collapse from the favourites is alright, but if it becomes the norm, believe me, you will begin feeling scared and disoriented.
Humans crave for order and sense, and a lack of it for even a short while may be too much too handle. Goliaths bring stability to proceedings in that sense. And watching the best do their best sometimes can grudingly lead you to concede the simple superiority of the 'Goliath' in the battle. Watching Alex Rodriguez, Andy Pettite, Mark Teixeiria and Derek Jeter for the Yankees in that World Series gave me that kind of a feeling. In the middle of the series I had resigned myself to a Yankee win and all I wanted was for the Phillies to just put up a good enough fight. The same is true whenever I watch a Man U game. These powerhouses with their clinical displays most often set the benchmarks for the rest to follow, to pump themselves and raise their games to the next level. If there weren't any Sachin Tendulkar, whose wicket would you aim for? In that sense the existence of these Goliaths is the very essence of competition in sport and thereby they are doing a great service to the game.

Like I said, it's fairly easy to deride them, but the familiarity of Goliath gives you that feeling that there's some constancy in this world. No wonder Yankees Team President Randy Levine said after the 2009 World Series win (Yanks' first title since 2000) "The Yankees won. The world is right again." After all, if there weren't any Goliath, who would David really stick it to!

THE JUDAS STRAIN

LAST weekend while watching the Liverpool vs. Manchester United game in the English Premier League my most difficult moment as a Liverpool fan came in the 73rd minute of the game. The Reds were already leading via a fantastic Torres strike, but Sir Alex had just made a
substitution. Michael Owen had taken the field at Anfield, in a Man U. shirt. It was a strange feeling for someone who'd seen Owen from his earliest days and one of the reasons Liverpool became my favourites was Owen's style and enthusiasm. But then 'Boy Wonder' left his nursery for Newcastle, and a few frustrating seasons later committed the footballing equivalent of apostapy by signing up with Manchester United. It was a strange feeling akin to the great cricket writer Nevile Cardus's who used to pray "Please God let Trumper score a century tomorrow in an England win". Cardus loved the Australian batsman Victor Trumper, but after all he was English. So, Anfield did roundly boo Owen, but surely some (Ok, at least me anyway!) were secretly hoping for some magic from Owen.

When one of Mersyside's favourite sons moves over to their archrivals, it is hard not to get sentimental about it, say what you will about the professional sportsman and dreams of avarice being the fuel that keeps their engines running. Or take the case of Brett Favre - NFL quarterback who spent his entire career with the Green Bay Packers first retires and then comes out of it (un-retired, as some savvy newspapers put it!) and dons a Minnesota Vikings shirt. And then? Well, he returns to Green Bay to beat the Packers (thus becoming the only QB ever to earn a win against all of NFL's 32 franchises!). Green Bay fans, players and officials obviously weren't totally kicked about it - again never mind the fact that they wouldn't have given Favre a start had he stayed with the Packers. And of course, the biggest case of them all - Boston Red Sox selling Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees in 1919. The Yanks, led by Ruth, went on to become one of baseball's most successful franchises (actually, the most successful) while the Red Sox suffered from the 'Curse of the Bambino' going title less for 86 long years in baseball. Wonder how the Red Sox fans felt as Ruth rocked every department for the Yankees.

But in this modern world of globalized sport, should this 'Judas' strain be considered so seriously? Yes, players will move where the flow of capital takes them (you know, it's way more than 20 pieces of silver for which Jesus was betrayed) and often they may land up with bitter rivals. But if they are true professionals they will continue just the same - plying their trade at the highest level possible. Naturally, a Michael Owen can't let the sentiment of returning to Anfield mar his chances of making a contribution to United. For the fans, though, it will always remain a different story. And boy, was I glad that I was saved some seriously conflicting views had Owen scored a winner or an equalizer. As a student of mine put it, 'There would be a riot out there'. Sure...a riot of conflictinf emotions.

THE LITE RUNNER

RUN CITY
Berlin. Bogota. Buenos Aires. Guadlajara. Guangzhou. London. Mexico City. Milan. Monterrey. Mt. Fuji. New York City. Oslo. Padova. Rio De Janerio. Rome. Seoul. Singapore. Taipei. Tel Aviv. And of course, Bangalore. These were the cities across which Nike was organizing its giant and unique marketing effort - the Nike + Human Race 10k. There is no question about Nike's marketing prowess but even by their lofty standards involving about three quarters of a million runners across 27 cities in the world on the same day in a celebratory run was quite something. It was the uniqueness of the experience that drew me in. A 10k road race was no longer a 'will-I-finish-it' challenge. But the prospect of bettering my competitive 10k timing was incentive enough. Nike believes that if you have a body, you are an athelete. And true enough, about a 1000 Bangaloreans of all shapes and sizes showed up on a Saturday afternoon eagerly waiting for the race to be flagged off. It was the pre race warm up ritual that was the most fun. Usually in races runners tend to stick to own personal styles of warm ups, but here we were asked to organize into files and gym instructors on stage ran us through the steps. Looking at 900 odd people going at the manouvers at the same time and half of them going right when the instructor screamed 'left' almost made me feel I was back in the middle of a school P.T. class! Chaotic warm up over, it was time for the starting gun to be fired.
START ME UP
The emcee for the evening VJ Yudi had a few words of encouragement as everyone took positions. He explained how the world was running together and once we'd all run the race everyone's timing would up on the Nike website (thanks to a timing chip everyone was wearing) and you can impress people all across the world with your timing. 'Even the ladies in France will be checking the timings', he quipped. The female runner just ahead of me shouted, 'What about the men in France?' Just then, the starting gun wen off, fired by Indian cricketer Sreesanth. Yudi was at it again quipping that it was a good thing Sreesanth did not fire the gun at somebody!
This was a race I was feeling really confident about running because for some reason I was feeling very light on my feet. From the first kilometer onwards I focussed on keeping the steps quick, nimble and light. There were live bands along the way murdering rock songs twice over, but the runners were concentrating too hard on their rhythm or were not keen enough rock fans to care or both. I ran at a fair clip, and lest you think I was idling, let me assure you I was at my productive best. Having received a call at the 3rd kilometer, I had managed to book tickets for 'Wake up Sid' that evening for my boss by the 7th kilometer, all without even breaking into a sweat. No wonder, I was feeling amazingly light. Between the 5th and 6th km, thirst took over slowing and breaking my rythm. I ran to the nearest aid station and emptied a glass of water on my head only to realize it was actually electrolytes! Heck, I thought, my brain was screaming for glucose anyway! My body has actually been built perfectly for a 7k race. At every 10k race, I virtually trick it into running the remaining 3. In this race it was no different, but the 'glucose-in-my-head' therapy seemed to be working because I felt stronger in the final stretch this time.
HOME STRETCH
In what was my strongest finish in a 10k race (alright, I have run only 3 of them, but it was my strongest finish!) I ran hard in the last kilometer and sprinted the last 100 yards or so. With about 20 yards left, I could hear someone chanting 'Nike. Nike. Nike. Adidas. Nike.' Puzzled, I followed the sound and could see a guy near the finish line chanting that into his walkie-talkie. As I ran past, and he shouted 'Reebok!', I realized what was going on. He was tracking the shoe brand for each runner! Oh, yes, I'd forgotten that we were all in the midst of a giant marketing gig from the mother of all marketers. Capitalism's queer cries were not enough to distract me though as I crossed the finish line in 56 minutes and 22 seconds! An improvement of 3 minutes and 20 seconds over my last time at the Sunfeast 10k! Shaving off 5.6% off your personal best is no joke (just ask Usain Bolt whose jaw dropping 100m world record - 9.58 from 9.69 - at the IAAF World Championships imrpoved on his earlier record by about 1.5%). Ok, I exaggarate. About the only thing I have in common with the 6'5" fastest man on earth is that we both wear Puma socks while running. But still the excitement was hard to contain, though I maintained a straight face and didn't exactly indulge in Bolt-like celebrations. A satisfying race completed, it was time for community cool down exercises and this time the crowd was much smaller - about 100 - since a whole lot were still running. I hadn't really thought I'd shatter my personal best in such spectacular fashion but there's something about the spirit of the runners in this city that eggs you on. I felt light on my feet, because hundreds of Bangaloreans were gliding past me effortlessly well.

All I can say is that when Nike chose its only city in India for staging part of the Human Race, it chose well.