I write this not to praise Tendulkar, but to denounce the hundred.

1. It has come in a game India  lost.

2. It was the cause of the loss (he scored too slowly).

3. It took the focus away from the rest of the team on the game itself.

4. The year long drama waiting for this hundred has clearly affected the man and the team negatively.

5.  It is no indicator of the form that he has been in of late (in Tests and ODIs).

6. The year long focus on the hundredth hundred has meant that we’ve not paid enough attention to the complete disarray the team is in right now. The disarray has happened in front of our eyes but very few eyes have been focused on the causes and solutions of the problem and far more have been obsessing over the hundredth hundred.

7. It is perhaps his most meaningless hundred (in both senses). It didn’t possess the boy-on-the-burning-deck grit of the 114 at Perth, the ferocious beauty (and utility) of the twin hundreds in Sharjah, the spine tingling relevance of the 100 at Chepauk post the Mumbai-terror-attack, the epic Greek-tragedy of the other Chennai hundred (and to a lesser extent the 175 in Hyderabad), the barrier breaking nature of the 200 or the sheer self-denial and strength of will that went into the 241 at Sydney.

All of these hundreds mean something to me and most others. When we tell our long-suffering descendants (yet another) Sachin story, it will be one of these.

Of the cuts and pulls on that Perth bunsen burner as boy barely taller than the stumps. Of the many barriers of pain he walked through under that wrenching Chennai sun to hold up a faltering batting lineup. Of the elevation we all felt when, for two days in Sharjah, he was the most invincible batsman on the face of the planet. Of the tears we wept with him at the emotional release of that hundred after the terror attacks.

As with all good devotees, I’m going to end up blaming the worshippers and not the deity.

We expected too much. We wanted a sign. We wanted affirmation of our own beliefs.

When they were not forthcoming, we raged, ranted and raved at the deity.

At the end of it all, the deity’s just a man. Flesh, blood, bone and sinew.

We refuse to believe that.

——

*I’m not using “God” here in the times of India headline sense, but from this DFW piece

There were fleeting displays of brilliance in the first two tests from Sachin Tendulkar – who is still in search of the vaunted 100^th international ton – but he has consistently fallen short of imposing his will. Rahul Dravid, magnificent in England when no one around him rose above mediocrity, has looked grotesque every time he’s batted in the series. That he’s been bowled, often through the gate, in each of the tests doesn’t help either. But with Dravid it has never been only about technical perfection – some of his greatest innings have, in fact, lacked textbook purity. It has been his ability to come on top through a mighty struggle against all adversities, whether it is playing on the wickedest of wickets or against the fiercest of opposition that has been his most outstanding quality. In Australia, not only has his batting looked ugly, but he’s also seemed incapable of rising above some of these adversities. V.V.S. Laxman, one of cricket’s most artful match-winners, has scarcely made runs away from home in the last two years, and his celebrated hand-eye coordination is certainly not what it once was. Virender Sehwag and Gautam Gambhir have likewise been less than ordinary lately – yes, India have struggled for many years to find a consistently good opening partnership, but the pair has been anything but consistently good in recent times.  Away from home in the last three years, Sehwag averages a meager 32.55, while since the beginning of 2010, Gambhir has recorded only a single century, averaging just 32.05. Numbers can of course be misleading, but these are certainly not figures that help teams win test matches.

The time for mere introspection has passed. The time to enforce a seamless transition has also passed. Where youngsters could have once been eased into the eleven, they now need to be thrust into it. Laxman’s place in the pantheon of greats may be assured, but it has been reported that he may not even make the team for the fourth test at Adelaide. It shouldn’t have come to this; he has performed a terrific service to Indian cricket, and in the ideal circumstances he would deserve a proper farewell. But there is no place for sentiment in sport, certainly not when you are down 0-3 in a four match series. It continues to baffle the mind that Rohit Sharma is yet to make his test match debut – had the transition been more structured, he’d have been playing a pivotal role in this series. But regardless, he must be given his chance in the fourth test in place of Laxman, whether or not Laxman chooses to retire. Ajinkya Rahane, Sharma’s teammate at Mumbai, who has made oodles of runs in domestic cricket, must also be accorded a place in the team. This, though, would entail a tougher decision of dropping one of Sehwag, Gambhir or Dravid – something, which I doubt, the authorities would be prepared to take responsibility for.

The root of India’s problems, though, goes far deeper than issues of selection, and is entrenched in the shortsighted, supercilious attitude of the B.C.C.I., exemplified by its president, N. Srinivasan’s reported remarks after the defeat at Perth: “Next New Zealand is coming to India and it will be followed by England and Australia. We will beat these three teams on our own soil. They cannot beat us here and we will feel very happy.” That the president of India’s cricket board is willing to virtually forego its games away from home shows the incredibly myopic vision of the game’s governing authority in India.

This is a real pity for India is not lacking in talent, certainly not as far as the batting – which has been in shambles in Australia – is concerned. Ajinkya Rahane, Rohit Sharma, Abhinav Mukund, Subramaniam Badrinath and Cheteshwar Pujara have all performed with aplomb in domestic cricket, and certainly deserve a sustained chance at the highest level. Dravid’s performance in 2011 – in which he scored five test match centuries – notwithstanding his display in Australia, perhaps, indicates that he still has runs left in him. But if he is to be retained, he must be pulled down the order, and Virat Kohli – who showed that he has the temperament for test cricket with his displays at the WACA – must be allowed a continued run at one-down. India also needs to think of Rahane and Mukund as viable successors to Sehwag and Gambhir, who cannot be carried on for too much longer solely on the basis of their reputations. Sachin Tendulkar in whatever time he has spent batting in Australia still easily looks India’s best batsman, but nobody should be considered bigger than the team, not even Tendulkar. I am not suggesting that India should, at once, axe Tendulkar and Dravid, but if you’re going to suffer such mammoth defeats as India has in Australia, you might as well do so with youngsters in your team.

Just as worrying as the batting displays has been M.S. Dhoni’s captaincy. Dhoni has always had a laid-back, casual approach to the job – when it works he looks cool and brilliant, and when it doesn’t he looks unconcerned and uninspiring. But the demeanor apart, neither has he looked like a good leader of men nor has his tactics been up to scratch. That he’s batted like a hapless tailender hasn’t helped either. Virender Sehwag who is the vice captain for the current tour has never showed any interest in the job, and in any event his form with the bat scarcely helps further his case. Gambhir is, perhaps, the only other contender, but his batting form has been worrying too, and his long-term future in the side is by no means settled. This then leaves us with Virat Kohli – who for all his indiscipline – has, since his Under-21 days, been considered as a future captain. In recent times, transition to test match captaincy has generally occurred via the ODI path. There has indeed been nothing to complain about Dhoni’s performance as captain in the shorter format, but assuming India wants to prioritize test cricket – which it admittedly doesn’t, but nontheless – it may not be the worst of ideas to consider Kohli, at first, for the ODI vice-captaincy with a view to him taking on the job in the not-so-distant future.

In a series in which the batsmen have given the bowlers so little to play with, it may be unfair to heap much blame on them, but Ishant Sharma’s form, in particular, has been worrying. The verve and the talent that the displayed the last time he was in Australia has been completely non-existent. It is difficult to point a finger at the exact reasons for Ishant’s decline, but none of the consistency in line and length that he once displayed has been evident. Umesh Yadav, while terrific in phases, does not have the reliability of a James Pattinson, who is three years junior to him. That said, Umesh’s raw pace and aggression means that his bowling can certainly be worked upon. What India doesn’t want to see, though, is a regression on lines akin to what Ishant has gone through. Zaheer Khan still retains a lot of his magic, particularly when bowling with the old ball, but it’s doubtful he has too many years left in him. Sreesanth and R.P. Singh who have played important roles for India in away victories have fallen by the wayside, but it is encouraging to see that Irfan Pathan is beginning to make a comeback into the side. Managing the fast bowling group is far harder with the depth in India’s coffins not as rich as its batting talent. But the BCCI’s decision to pick a fast-bowling pool and identify bowlers who would form the bench strength has been one of the more encouraging ones in recent times.

For the average Indian fan, the displays in England and Australia have been far more disappointing than the consistent mediocrity of the early nineties, where the expectations on the team, at any rate, were lower. As daft as it sounds, India went into both these tours as genuine contenders, but perhaps, the team has needed these poundings to grasp the malaise that has slowly been building up. But all things considered, if these defeats do result in relatively wholesale changes, as they should, India are certainly in for an exciting, even if, potentially, painful phase. Virat Kohli and Rohit Sharma are two of the finest young batting talents in the world and I am looking forward – as I am sure many others are – to see their fruition as test match batsmen. The darkest hour is just before the dawn.

Football

Best goals: At the end of the day, regardless of the extent of our connoisseurship, it’s the goals that we remember most, so I’ll start there.[2] Dejan Stankovic’s goal in Inter Milan’s Champions League quarterfinal first leg against Schalke was my favourite goal of the year. I have a thing for volleys and long-rangers, and Stankovic’s goal fits both of those categories. It was barely 20 seconds into the game when Esteban Cambiasso floated a ball behind the Schalke defense, which their goalkeeper Manuel Neuer came out bravely to sweep up, launching a header towards the halfway line. Stankovic, hanging about in the center circle, spontaneously volleyed the ball back, remarkably sending the ball over the out of position Neuer, and into the empty goal. It was an extraordinary goal, one that had the quality of bringing a neutral observer to his feet.

Staying with volleys, Robin van Persie’s recent pearler against Everton has to surely be up there with the best goals of the year. Just as Alex Song’s ball over the defense was dropping in front of him, van Persie conjured up a strike of astounding technical purity. He hit it so sweetly that I can still hear the unblemished sound of boot on ball.

It would be injudicious of me not to mention Wayne Rooney’s winner in the Manchester Derby in January here. Unlike Stankovic’s and van Persie’s efforts, I have watched this goal over and over again. The beauty of the strike apart, the goal had a sense of occasion to it, making it all the more special.

Berbarotica: Before it gets too late, I want to get my mention of Dimitar Berbatov away. In spite of being the top scorer in the 2010-11 season, Berbatov has found himself dropped from the Manchester United starting line-up – and often even from the squad – with Sir Alex Ferguson preferring to go with either Javier Hernandez or Danny Welbeck as Rooney’s strike partner. Against Fulham, earlier this month, though, Berbatov came on to score a sublime goal. It wasn’t against the toughest of opponents nor did it have a sense of occasion to it, considering it was the final goal in a 5-0 rout, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Berbatov let Antonio Valencia’s low cross slide past him, deceived a lunging Fulham defender, and then produced a cheeky backheel to find the back of the net. It was deft, languid, imperious and impudent all at once; it was typical Berbatov.

Silkiest skill: Had I seen this goal live, it may well have been my favourite of the year; it comes close nonetheless. Neymar has attracted several comparisons to Lionel Messi already, and this goal against Flamengo provides a microcosm of his unique talents. There were about 15 tricks that he performed in under 20 seconds – first there were a brace of ingenious turns on the left wing, then a one-two to get himself to the edge of the box, followed by an outrageous bit of skill that left the centre backs flummoxed and finally a finish to match the move.

Most elegant player: David Silva has been the most fun player to watch this year. He doesn’t slalom his way past opponents like Messi; he doesn’t have the pace and power that Cristiano Ronaldo possesses; nor does he dictate the tempo of a game in the manner of a Xavi or an Iniesta, but he is certainly the most elegant player going around. Silva doesn’t run past opponents, he glides away from them with a balletic grace. Everything he does on the pitch seems to have a rare beauty to it. And it certainly doesn’t hurt that he is left footed.

Best game: My favourite game of the year was Arsenal’s 5-3 defeat of Chelsea at Stamford Bridge in October. Minutes to go, Arsenal have worked their balls off to come back into the game and go 4-3 up – aided no doubt by some abject defending – and just when you think they are going to play sensibly, and defend the lead, they bomb forward, scoring a fifth. It was a game full of thrills and spills, fantastic moves and schoolboy defending, but it was such fun! [I can’t find a video of the game, so you’ll have to make do with reading Scott Murray’s MBM in the Guardian]

Oh Scholesy! I’ve missed Paul Scholes, and unimaginably so. I miss the long-range blasts; the beautiful, precise diagonal balls; the little turns to get away from prying tacklers in the middle of the pitch; the change of pace that allowed him the time and space to dictate play; the late bursts into the penalty box; the cunning short passes that helped Manchester United retain possession; heck I’ve even missed those dirty tackles. [You can read my tribute to Scholes, who retired in May, here]

*****

Cricket

Favourite Moment: India’s World Cup victory seems such a long time ago after the humiliation in the test series in England and the recent loss at the MCG. But M.S. Dhoni’s six to seal the win against Sri Lanka in the final at the Wankhede, will remain etched in memory forever. I do, however, want to forget Ravi Shastri’s robotic, headache-inducing commentary that accompanied the moment.

Best ball: James Anderson was terrific during India’s tour of England this past summer, and his delivery to snare V.V.S. Laxman in the second innings of the second test at Trent Bridge, Nottingham was, perhaps, the ball of the year. It seemed to move both ways, first swinging into Laxman, before moving, ever so slightly off the pitch, away from the outside edge to hit the top of off-stump. Geoff Boycott reckoned that it was a simple case of Laxman missing the ball: “He played down Bakerloo and it went down Piccadilly,” he said, but Anderson’s skill certainly can’t be discounted.

Best innings: Alastair Cook made oodles of runs this year and Rahul Dravid batted with obstinacy and courage in the series in England, but neither produced an innings of particularly captivating worth. Pakistan had a terrific year, with Misbah Ul-Haq, Younis Khan and Taufeeq Umar, all making lots of runs, but I haven’t watched enough of them to offer a valuable comment. So the honour will have to go to one of Mahela Jayawardene or Ian Bell, the former for his innings of sparkling elegance in the World Cup Final, and the latter for his splendid late-cut riddled century against India at Trent Bridge. I’ll let you take your pick. I enjoyed both these knocks immensely.

Sehwagology: Virender Sehwag transcended a few boundaries in his brutal 219 from 149 balls at Indore against the West Indies. I didn’t name it in the best innings category for a regulation ODI has, in my opinion at any rate, lost significance. Nonetheless, it was a spectacular effort that at many levels defied description and served as a reminder of not only Sehwag’s genius but also of his contribution to the game. He is, at once, a revolutionary and a visionary.

Best contest: Dale Steyn’s two spells to start the first two sessions on day 3 of the Cape Town test between South Africa and India was as nifty a spell of swing bowling that one could have hoped to see. That Sachin Tendulkar faced 48 of the 66 balls bowled in those spells made it that much more of a spectacle. It was marvelous; test cricket at its very best. Second ball of the first over, Steyn beat Tendulkar with a gorgeous away singer that moved at tremendous pace. Three balls later, another outswinger, only this time, Tendulkar got to the pitch of it and drove it gloriously through extra-cover for a boundary. After a luckless first spell, Steyn came back after lunch to snare Pujara LBW with a gem that straightened upon pitching on leg. In his next over, he had Dhoni caught at third slip with another trademark outswinger. It was a glorious, beautiful day of test cricket, an innings in which Steyn picked up five wickets and Tendulkar made 146.

******

Tennis

Best match: It was THAT match in which Novak Djokovic produced THAT shot. US Open semifinals, the Serb goes down two sets to love against Federer, then wins sets three and four only to trail 5-3, 40-15 in the decider. Everyone who’s watching it thinks, and knows even, that it’s over. Federer places his first serve wide of Djokovic’s forehand, a little undercooked, and boom, the return is past the Swiss even before he’s seen it. It was all Djokovic from there on. To me, the forehand on match point was a moment of pure inspiration. After the match, Federer called it a lucky stroke, he even seemed to question Djokovic’s moral right to go for that shot. Well, there is no arguing that Djokovic took an all or nothing approach, but what else could one expect?

Best point: Novak Djokovic has produced several remarkable points this year, many of them winners from inconceivable angles, when his whole body was seemingly stretched like rubber. But this honour belongs to Rafael Nadal. In the final of the Madrid Masters against Djokovic, after a rally of astounding interplay, Nadal somehow found himself at the net and produced a touch volley, which in turn brought Djokovic forward. The Serb, with his tremendous foot speed, got there with time to spare, and conjured a superb lob, that Nadal first tried to smash on his backhand side, on the turn, only to find it to be beyond his reach. But not one to give up, he chased after it, and manufactured a tweener – a between the legs effort. Only, this was no ordinary tweener. This wasn’t one of those, let-me-just-try-and-stay-in-the-point efforts. It was a tweener-lob – adroit, imaginative, and simply exquisite.

Quote of the year: “Umpires are like emotional girlfriends — once they make up their minds, there’s no point in arguing”: The incomparable Janko Tipsarevic

Comeback player: Almost bizarrely, in a year in which he didn’t win a Grand Slam for the first time since 2002, Roger Federer has to be considered as the comeback player of the year. Since losing to Djokovic in the US Open semifinals, he went 17-0, winning titles in Basel, Paris and London, regained some of the lost aura and once again looked an imperious, graceful force. Federer’s run of form at the end of the year has set up 2012 beautifully.

Player to watch in 2012: Andy Murray is still the best of the rest as far as the rankings are concerned, but the one who came closest to denting the oligarchy at the top in 2011 was Jo Wilfried Tsonga. The big Frenchman was often imposing and fantastic, particularly in his come-from-behind win in the Wimbledon quarterfinals against Federer. And crucially, unlike Murray, he seems to believe that he is capable of beating the top three at the highest of stages.

Most disappointing player: Richard Gasquet – as has been the case for each of the last five or six years. Anyone who can stroke a backhand as regally as he does has no right to be losing as many matches as he does.

Best parliamentarian: Not sure this category should be called “best” parliamentarian, for I have no clue what work Marat Safin – who was elected to the new Duma after elections in early December – actually does. But I’d imagine – or I’d like to believe, at any rate – that anything Safin does, he does it with panache. And for what it’s worth, Sampras had this to say about Safin’s victory: “Marat is very intelligent, articulate and well-spoken so I think it’s great that he’s getting involved in government in his homeland. In 20 years, Marat will be the President of Russia! Trust me, this guy is going to go a long way.”

[1] I’ve watched a whole lot of sport this year, like most other years, but I’m restricting this piece to football, cricket and tennis, the holy trinity as far as I’m concerned.

[2] It’s likely I have failed to mention a number of quality goals in this post. That would either be because I didn’t find them worthy enough or that I simply don’t remember them (I wanted to list out moments which I can conjure from memory as opposed to watching a YouTube compilation of best goals in 2011 and picking my favourite).

Also with the NBA season finally set to get underway, Longform.org aggregated a set of six wonderful stories “about the lives of great basketball players, on the court and off,” including David Halberstam’s immortal piece in the New Yorker in 1998 on Michael Jordan, which is a must-read, if you’re a fan of basketball or any sport for that matter.

***

Gary Speed, 42, shockingly and suddenly, died earlier this week, apparently by taking his own life. As someone who grew up watching football in the 1990s, Speed, to me, represented a colossal figure, the archetypical professional that could never be discounted. Regardless of which club you supported, Speed was a player you respected – always fair, and always a threat to the opposition, with his pace down the wings in his early days, and his sense of positional awareness and tactical acuity in the latter part of his career. Speed scored in every season of the Premier League, right from its inception in 1992-1993 to 2007-08, his last season in the league with Bolton Wanderers. Tributes poured across all football grounds in England, including one at Elland Road, “As Leeds United staged what amounted to a communal public elegy for one of British football’s favourite sons of the past 20 years,” in the words of Barney Ronay. Speed began his career at Leeds, where he won his only league championship, the year before the Premier League’s foundation. Sky Sports produced a touching 4-minute video with many of Speed’s peers, including fellow Welshmen, Ryan Giggs and Mark Hughes, paying tribute to their one-time teammate. At a midtown bar in New York, Legends 33, hordes of Newcastle fans who had gathered to watch their game against Chelsea in the early Saturday morning hours, joined in the 1-minute applause prior to kick-off and continued with chants of “Speedo Speedo” throughout the course of the game. David Lacey, wrote in the Guardian, that “football matters precisely because it does not matter that much.” Nick Szczepanik’s touching obituary, again in the Guardian, and The Telegraph’s collection of images showcasing Speed’s careers are also worth looking at.

***

In what has been a particularly depressing week for football fans, the flamboyant Brazilian, Socrates, 57, died, in Sao Paulo after suffering a septic shock. Socrates was the captain of a ridiculously talented Brazil team in the 1982 World Cup Finals when the country to the horror of its fans that extend to date failed to go past the second round. Socrates was also one of the few qualified doctors to play football at the highest level. Read the mandatory Brian Glanville obituary here; an interview that Socrates gave Alex Bellos last year, in which he discusses a new book that he was writing that was to release in time for the 2014 World Cup Finals, and Gabrielle Marcotti’s tribute in the Wall Street Journal.

***

Staying with football, Sam Fayyaz has written a fine piece in The Run of Play comparing Fernando Redondo and Javi Martinez, titled Generalissimo. “There is something uncannily similar about the manner in which they impose themselves on a match: almost managerial or authoritarian without being brutal or grotesque in the way of a Nigel De Jong or Roy Keane. There is a kind of death-and-taxes inevitability about their centrality in the proceedings of any given match,” Fayyaz wrote. He also makes reference to Redondo’s sumptuous skill – a most ridiculous nutmeg of Henning Berg that I can see 100 times a day and not get bored – en route to assisting Raul in Real Madrid’s 3-2 defeat of Manchester United at Old Trafford in the Champions League quarterfinal in April 2000. The nutmeg, Jonathan Wilson later wrote, in the Guardian, had a substantial impact on the development of football tactics in the noughties.

***

Captaincy has provided an impetus to Michael Clarke’s batting and in the first innings of Australia’s commanding triumph over New Zealand at the Gabba, he produced his third century in four tests; yet another splendid innings littered with the most sparkling drives. Read, Chris Barrett in the Sydney Morning Herald.

***

Mukul Kesavan’s piece on why Tendulkar’s 100^th ton sholdn’t matter, meanwhile has garnered much attention, so much so that the article, which first appeared in the Telegraph, has since been republished by Yahoo and Cricinfo. Kesavan says, amongst his other arguments, “The real cricketing illiterates are the people who believe that adding ODI centuries to Test centuries and arriving at a hundred gives you a heroic landmark. It doesn’t. This isn’t just a meaningless statistic, it’s a pernicious one, because it equalizes two different orders of achievement.” But aren’t all statistical appreciations inherently whimsical? Who is to say that a hundred should be feted while a well-made 88 shouldn’t? But for whatever reason, be it the decimal system or something else, the order of history has shown that hundreds have always been considered a significant achievement. Now, nobody – at least nobody in their right minds – is arguing that statistical feats are the only claim to greatness, but cricket is a game of numbers, and statistical attainments have always been treasured. Kesavan’s argument that to celebrate Tendulkar’s impending feat would result in equalizing two different orders of achievement also doesn’t cut it. That Tendulkar has been so successful in both formats of the game should, in fact, augment his claims to absolute greatness. Jacques Kallis, the second on the list of Test centurions – with 40 hundreds – has a total of 57 international tons; Ricky Ponting has a total of 69; Rahul Dravid and Brian Lara, fourth and sixth on the Test list, have 101 between them. All of this only shows how staggering Tendulkar’s achievement would be. And in any case, 100 100s has an amazing ring to it, and in the ultimate analysis, statistical appreciation is purely arbitrary, as Tim de Lisle pointed out in a piece in this year’s Wisden Almanack.

***

Addendum: On Socrates, also read this piece by the always superb Alan Jacobs in The Run of Play. He writes: “He was the anti-Bartleby: Melville’s scrivener went through life saying, “I would prefer not to.” Sócrates went through life saying, “I prefer to.” I prefer to drink; I prefer to smoke; I prefer to back-heel the ball; I prefer to take penalties without a silly run-up. I even prefer to get a degree in medicine, to be Doctor Sócrates.”

Ricky Ponting and Mahela Jayawardene conjured centuries of differing style if equally fine merit in the quarter-final and final respectively, but India emerged as the winner on both these occasions without any of its batsmen reaching the three figure mark or any of its bowlers scalping a substantial portion of the wickets. Likewise against Pakistan in the semi-final, it was an amalgam of exceptional fielding from almost every member of the team and a collectively excellent performance from all the bowlers that won India the tie. This is in stark contrast to the World Cups between 1983 and now, in which the team has relied, almost solely, on individual performances for success.

In 1987 as defending champions, playing at home, India was a much-fancied team, but in the semi-final against England, the bowlers wilted, allowing Graham Gooch to sweep his way to a marvellous 115 and in reply, barring a fine, stylish hand from Mohammad Azharuddin the team yielded without a whimper. In 1992, India failed to make the semi-finals, with its victory against Pakistan – a team to which it has never lost in World Cups – the only bright spark. In the next edition, held in the sub-continent, India was amongst the favourites, even though the side was virtually a one-man army, which was perhaps the cause of its undoing. Sachin Tendulkar had a magnificent tournament, but when he fell for 65 against Sri Lanka in the semi-final, the team capitulated under the pressure of the chase, albeit on a deteriorating Eden Gardens wicket.

1999 again contained many moments of individual brilliance – most notably Rahul Dravid’s and Sourav Ganguly’s partnership against the Lankans at Taunton and Tendulkar’s hundred against Kenya, a day after he had returned from India to complete his father’s funeral, but the team lacking in verve and imagination, succumbed in the decisive fixtures. It defeated only Pakistan in the Super-Six, failing to qualify for the semi-finals.

In 2003, no doubt, India had an excellent tournament. But in the final it surrendered to a combination of a masterful showing from Australia and its own lack of command over the situation – blatant over-excitement amongst the players, exemplified by that infamous first over from Zaheer Khan. Inside the opening exchanges of the game, India had the wind knocked out of its sails.

Four years down in 2007, as Alok mentions, the World Cup was altogether forgettable, memorable neither for notable individual showings nor for the team’s performance – an embarrassing exit ensuing at the Group stage.

The recently concluded World Cup, though, as I mentioned earlier, may not have contained many moments of statistical individual brilliance, but in displaying wonderful skills collectively, the team has, as a group, captured our imagination. In the tournaments between 1983 and 2011, what we remember are those solo displays – whether it be Tendulkar’s 97 against Pakistan in 2003, Ganguly’s and Dravid’s partnership at Taunton in 1999, Ashish Nehra’s 6 for 23 against England in 2003, possibly even Sunil Gavaskar’s only ODI century, a 103 that came, wonder of wonders off a mere 88 balls against New Zealand in 1987, to name a few. But in the years to come, when we look back upon the triumphant 2011 campaign, it is perhaps the team as a collective which we will remember – an incredible achievement indeed.

]]> http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/an-incredible-journey/feed 4 http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/world-champions-2011-weve-come-a-long-way http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/world-champions-2011-weve-come-a-long-way#comments Sun, 10 Apr 2011 21:50:36 +0000 Anisha http://www.criticaltwenties.in/?p=2756

Dhoni hits the demons out of the park

Sport has this ability to generate special moments that swell to occupy the popular consciousness, often distorting reality: moments that capture the imagination and form moorings in a sea of hazily remembered scorecards. One such mooring is the dismissal of Sachin Tendulkar for 136 against Pakistan in 1999, leading to a 12-run loss for India. Two months later, Brian Lara struck an unbeaten 153 against Australia, earning his team a one-wicket win. Tendulkar was written off as lacking big-match temperament, while Lara was declared the ultimate saviour. For years, these two moments engulfed any statistics that made claims to the contrary.

A similar moment was the India-Sri Lanka semi-final at the 1996 World Cup. I watched as Tendulkar fell for 65, followed by a dreadful batting collapse, and, along with millions of fans, I came to two conclusions. India could not stand the pressure of chasing. India could not survive without Sachin.

This belief was vindicated in 1999 when Tendulkar left the tournament midway after the death of his father. In the one game he missed, the wheels fell off the team’s chase of 252 against Zimbabwe – a loss which proved to be critical.

In 2003, Sachin was on song and so were we. Come the final, however, several million hearts sank the moment Ganguly inexplicably opted to field. Chase? Us?? The moment Tendulkar got out, TV sets were switched off, including MS Dhoni’s.

By 2007, the tide had apparently begun to turn. Tendulkar seemed a spent force in a Team India that seemed to be doing just fine without his contributions. Come the World Cup, however, and India sank to two characterless defeats.

The twin demons have long since been banished in all forms of the game but it was only in 2011 that they were finally laid to rest in the World Cup. I was actually pleased when Dhoni lost the toss because I thought we would pace our innings better if we batted second. My heart definitely skipped a beat when Tendulkar got out but it never occurred to me to write off the match. And even as the celebrations began with all-too familiar paeans of praise for Tendulkar, I could only think – we’ve come a very long way, indeed.

Now that the dust has begun to settle, though, on India’s victory against Pakistan yesterday, it may be time to release the fervour which was draped around us and look at the game from outside the prism of our fan narrative, as challenging a task as this may prove to be. The game admittedly took a shape that went beyond the realms of sport – what with the prime ministers of the two nations choosing this as the occasion to break their countries’ diplomatic deadlock. As it turned out, it was as much an occasion for fans of extravaganza of any kind as it was for fans of the sport – the cheers that Aamir Khan got even as some of the cricketers were going about their motions in the build up to the game was mildly sickening. But its every man for himself I suppose – who am I to pass judgments on the degrees and boundaries of fandom? What I can say, though, is that for all the hullabaloo and in spite of the appreciable importance of India’s triumph, I may probably remember close to diddly-squat about this match in the years to come.

As I reflected on the game today, I couldn’t help but note that there was nothing particularly special about the victory. The quality of the cricket wasn’t at any admirable standard and, perhaps, a few years from now this game, devoid as it was of outstanding moments, will be eradicated from memory. The 1996 quarter-final and for that matter the meeting in 2003 between these teams, though, will conceivably be etched forever in my mind. Ajay Jadeja’s slog-over heroics and that celebrated delivery from Venkatesh Prasad to dislodge Aamir Sohail’s off-stump a ball after he was unleashed with a mouthful of vitriol from the batsman are indelible moments. Likewise, Sachin Tendulkar’s brutal assault at Centurion in 2003 against a bowling attack composed of Shoaib Akhtar, Waqar Younis and Wasim Akram, in a game played on the backdrop of boiling political differences between the nations will remain amongst the finest World Cup moments. Those three Tendulkar strokes in Akhtar’s opening over for 14 thrilling runs represents a moment of peerless genius.

Yesterday, though, from an Indian perspective there was little of outstanding note. Had Pakistan won, maybe the game would have been remembered for the inspired and quite astonishing spell of swing bowling from Wahab Riaz. As it turned out Riaz’s performance, easily the game’s best individual act was not even good enough to bring him the man-of-the-match award. Instead, Tendulkar, dropped on four occasions en route to a scratchy 85 – possibly one of his worst ODI half centuries – bagged the honours. Thank heavens, though, that this was not the day for his hundredth hundred. India’s batting barring Virender Sehwag’s explosive start and Suresh Raina’s fine hand at the end was largely insipid and stripped out of its character by the superb Riaz.

In response, Pakistan began brightly, but as is so often the case with it, it somehow contrived to gift wicket after wicket to the Indians. Mohammad Hafeez, Asad Shafiq, and Younis Khan all fell to innocuous deliveries. Misbah ul Haq dawdled around for eternity, leaving it far too late for the final assault. No doubt, Munaf Patel and Ashish Nehra – whose inclusion in the Eleven ahead of R. Ashwin seemed inexplicable – bowled disciplined spells and M.S. Dhoni captained with typical calmness if not panache, but the game lacked a performance of singular brilliance – an unforgettable act of distinction.

It remains, however, a victory for India over Pakistan, that too in a World Cup semi-final – up until now the highest round in which the teams have ever met in the competition. The histrionic pre-game build-up was more incredible than any in recent memory. The victory celebrations lived up to the game’s billing – firecrackers were set alight across the country. Maybe it’s the occasion which we will remember in the years to come and not so much the cricket. But by any account, it will count for nigh-on nothing if India is to come a cropper at Mumbai on Saturday.

But before I get to the morality of the issue of walking or the aspect of decisions balancing themselves out over the course of a cricketer’s career, it is important to point out that Tendulkar hasn’t always been a walker. To exalt his decision to walk against the West Indies as a saintly act would, therefore, be a statement steeped in misconceptions. As Sourav Ganguly remarked in an interview with a television channel, “Sachin has never done that in the past, let’s be honest, and he shouldn’t because there have been times when he has been given out and he was not out.” The headlines in many Indian newspapers, such as the Times of India, which read “Sachin Tendulkar puts integrity above quest for 100^th ton;” the Deccan Herald, which expressed his decision as “Walking tall on the cricketing pitch” and the Hindustan Times, which said that this was “another instance of the high standards he has set for himself,” are all not even worth the price of paper on which they’ve been printed. There have been numerous instances when Tendulkar has been happy to wait for the umpire’s decision; carrying on, in fact, had the decision wrongly gone in his favour. So let’s not idolize inconsistent acts and lose track of the distorted moralities of cricket.

The broad conception that has developed in recent years, particularly on the back of Adam Gilchrist’s decision to walk in a World Cup semi-final – it may also be worthwhile to point out that Gilchrist himself has failed to walk on odd occasions – is that it is the prerogative of the individual to choose whether to walk and that morality doesn’t dictate such actions. But the fact remains that cricket, albeit a game littered with individual statistics, is a team sport. Had Virat Kohli, who batted at one-drop, got a clanger from Steve Davis, I am not sure the Indian team would have been best pleased with Tendulkar. As Ganguly said in the same T.V. interview, “It could be a big game, India 100 for three, Tendulkar batting on 55 and holding the key to India’s success. I would really not want him to walk unless an umpire has given him out.” A cricketer’s decision to walk does affect the performance of his team and therefore to consign the choice as purely the prerogative of the individual is scarcely in the interest of the sport.

Further, a person’s move to walk could impact an umpire’s decision-making. If a batsman renowned to be a walker stays his ground when he has, in fact, edged a ball even if he is honestly unaware of it, psychologically the umpire may think – hang on, this fellow usually walks, so he surely couldn’t have edged it and rules, wrongly, in favour of the batsman. No doubt it is the umpire’s job to look beyond such possibilities and make decisions purely on the basis of what he sees. But that said I find it difficult to imagine that umpires, being only human, are unaffected by such psychological considerations. The game would be richer I believe if everyone did their own jobs without aiming to claim a moral high ground.

But this begs the question as to what constitutes genius? Is there at all a place for the word in the world of sport, where its usage is hackneyed – often employed even to describe the banal and the pedantic? Teresa Lacerda and Stephen Mumford in an outstanding article in the Journal of Philosophy on Sport – yes there does exist something of its ilk – argue that while in art, the genius “innovates some new technique, movement or style”, in sport, “the genius is one who creates new sporting strategies that tend toward competitive success.”

To me, genius is a mastery of space, achieved through intuition – an exertion of one’s will over another. Throughout history man has been fascinated by space and philosophers great and meek have theorized on its forms. The German philosopher, Immanuel Kant, wrote in Critique of Pure Reason that space is an a priori form – something intuitive from which knowledge is later gained. Kant’s work may have come under intense criticism, but in many ways his theory on space finds embodiment in the world of sport and nowhere more perfectly than in the batting of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

As Tendulkar carved gaps in the field that even to the probing eye seemed non-existent, my father, with whom I was watching the game, opined that this was down to pure providence.  Placement of such precision, he said, cannot be calculated. Yet, I thought, it was this innate ability of Tendulkar’s that sets him apart from the rest. His knowledge of where the spaces in the field were seemed utterly intuitive and not least bit manufactured. The works of a genius are rarely explicable and as Kant argued, even the genius is himself often unaware of how his idea was conceived. I am sure Lionel Messi would not have an answer to how he dribbles past maze after maze of defenders like they never existed. Genius is vague and enigmatic and therein lies its beauty.

Matthew Syed in his book, ‘Bounce: How Champions are Made,’ uses the Malcolm Gladwell line of thought and argues that talent is overrated; a person acquires command of a skill through purposeful practice for a period of at least 10,000 hours. Tendulkar in his rigorous sessions at the dusty Sivaji Park in Mumbai where he learned the game would have undoubtedly lapped up these hours well before his teenage years. But it is difficult to believe that at the core of his achievements are not his inherent gifts but the strenuous and committed practice of the art. The intense coaching and painstaking training must have surely contributed towards the thriving of his genius, but they most certainly cannot account for its creation.

As he twists his wrists to find the minutest of gaps that leave the opposition and the spectators gaping in awe, Tendulkar himself I doubt is aware of the gravity of his accomplishment. This intrinsic gift, though, is only but an element in his genius. To him creativity bears no boundaries. In a career of over twenty years, he has been faced with the need to constantly innovate; to change his game to suit the demands of the time. But this burden has rested easy on his shoulders. Creativity comes intuitively to Tendulkar. The double-hundred in Sydney in 2004, where he famously shunned the cover-drive was by itself a manifestation of his force – an ability to eschew the natural as an inventive answer to the necessities of the situation.

The sustenance of his talents for more than two decades is, perhaps, the greatest element in Tendulkar’s genius. By meeting the need to create in every step along the way, he has imposed his will like no other – an imperious mastery of space by a true genius.

We watch sport for a variety of reasons and a riveting story is often what we search for. In that sense, this game fulfilled our needs – constantly remaining on a knife-edge. But when you cut through the brilliance – admittedly there was a lot of that, especially from the two centurions, Sachin Tendulkar and Andrew Strauss – you are left to grapple with lots of dismal performances in the field. Easy catches were dropped, misfields were aplenty, the lines from the bowlers – barring Tim Bresnan – were wayward and the captaincy and the field settings from both M.S. Dhoni and Strauss lacked verve and imagination. All of this, while contributing heavily to the narrative, certainly did not make for pretty viewing. So to say that the contest was ‘a perfect advertisement’ for the one-day game – which it may well be, considering the general obsession with runs – veils the quality that both teams lacked.

On current form, regardless of their batting prowess, it looks unlikely that either India or England will be in contention towards the end of the tournament. Unlike test-matches, one-day games can, no doubt, be won on the strength, purely, of a team’s batting. But World Cups tend to be different – might in a single department has never been sufficient to lift the trophy. At least England was missing Stuart Broad, who is easily its best limited overs bowler. India had no such excuses. Its bowling – barring a brief yet stirring spell from Zaheer Khan – was uninspired and consistently poor, outdone in its sloppiness only by the fielding. India must, therefore, consider the option of playing five bowlers, a buffer that is necessary on sub-continental pitches for teams lacking sufficient bowling quality – an option that is particularly viable in India’s case, considering the strength of its batting. This would, of course, mean that one of Virat Kohli, Yuvraj Singh, Gautam Gambhir or Yusuf Pathan would have to be excluded; not an easy decision by any means. But the exigency of the situation calls for a bold move and in view of the form of Kohli (not to mention his fielding skills), Yuvraj’s usefulness with the ball and Pathan’s undeniable match-winning abilities, it may well have to be Gambhir who makes way.

Gambhir is a fine one-day batsman, whose worth to the team is undeniable. Yet, in a squad filled with as many batting stars as India’s is, it is inevitable that one of them will have to miss out. India could learn from Spain’s football team, which for much of the 2010 World Cup, started without Cesc Fabregas, favouring the more defence minded Sergio Busquets in the interests of team-balance. Winning a World Cup is no easy feat. And it certainly won’t be possible if sentiment is preferred over pragmatism.