Ask
him what he has lived for and the answer will be prompt, "To play for
India". Somehow, when he says it, you know it's not just a platitude but a
heartfelt truth.
I was 5 year old, when
a 16- year old Sachin Tendulkar faced his first ball in test cricket from
Pakistan Waqar Younis in Nov 1989, the Berlin wall was standing, Saddam and
Osama where still US allies, oil was at $19 per barrel and the sensex was under
750 points, the Maruti 800 was a bold young challenger to the Ambassador and
Fiat, the Internet and Mobile phones hadn’t come to India, and Doordarshan was
the only TV Channel. A mountain of mind-boggling statistics later, he retires as
arguably the greatest batsman and unarguably one of the finest Gentlemen to
ever grace a cricket field.
The
only batsman against whom Sachin can truly be bench marked is Sir Don Bradman.
But Bradman never played with the pressure of carrying the hopes of a
billion-plus people on his shoulders, never had to deal with a situation where
a loss was similar to a criminal conviction with the world's second-most
populous country sitting in collective judgment. Bradman played a sport.
Tendulkar has presided deity of a nationally-unifying religion called cricket.
The
applause that was attended with Sachin’s last walks to and from the wicket has
reverberated around the world. Sachin Tendulkar has made his peace with the
fact that there is life after cricket. But millions of worshippers are consumed
by a feeling of hollowness as they try to come to terms with cricket without
Tendulkar and the fact for the fans remains the same “there are two kinds of
batsmen in the world, one is Sachin and the two all other batsmen”
I
conclude with a Bow saying “Cricket is the best entertainment that God ever
created on earth – but Sachin is more entertaining than cricket”.
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