For fans of cricket, particularly those in India, the world as they knew
it for close to 25 years has changed forever. Sachin Tendulkar’s
decision to retire after his 200th Test match, scheduled against West
Indies in mid-November, brings to a close a career like no other. There
have been several exceptional careers in cricket, but save for Don
Bradman there hasn’t been a phenomenon — in terms of the collective
experience of the artiste — like Tendulkar. For long the most startling
thing about his iridescent career was its inevitability. Great deeds
were foretold when he was still a boy, the lofty predictions scarcely
allowing for sport’s inherent caprice. “Gentlemen, Tendulkar never
fails,” the late Naren Tamhane is reported to have said in a selection
meeting, when someone wondered if a 16-year-old should be sent to
Pakistan to face the likes of Imran Khan, Wasim Akram, and Abdul Quadir.
(Waqar Younis made his debut in the series as well.) And incredibly,
almost supernaturally, beginning with the debut series in 1989, the
master has fulfilled all but the wildest of predictions. Until the
arrival and establishment of Rahul Dravid, Tendulkar was India’s lone
reference for excellence in testing conditions abroad. The pressure to
succeed every single time, the claustrophobia that comes with every
little action being scrutinised can scarcely be conceived. And yet
Tendulkar wore it with lightness and dignity, making brilliance
commonplace, unremarkable.
Indeed the essence of Tendulkar’s greatness lies as much in his
preternatural ability as in his handling the weight of being cricket’s
biggest icon. For many in India, Tendulkar was God — a statement, from
the evidence of the frenzy he frequently triggered, several came
dangerously close to believing. Certainly much of Tendulkar’s batting
seemed like a gift from above. But the impression short-changes him for
no one worked harder to hone natural talent. And no one was less
concerned with his image as a batsman — struggling for touch in England
in 2007, he sublimated his ego and eked out runs. But just as the
experts said the newer version of Tendulkar was effective but
unappealing, he did what great champions do. He challenged popular
perception by reprising later in the year in Australia, the thrilling,
spontaneous style of his early years. At 37, he had his most fertile
year (2010), scoring more than 1500 Test runs and forcing a revision of
how both the great batsman and the old batsman is viewed. Longevity is
the gold standard of greatness for nothing is left untested; the arc of
Tendulkar’s career ensures it will be the new gold standard. In recent
years, the national obsession with him hadn’t dimmed, but it had been
distributed among the members of a resurgent Team India. These next two
months will see a return to the old days, one final celebration of the
Age of Tendulkar.
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