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Literary Review
Our `boys'
J.T. JACOBJ.T. JACOB
WHEN Laxmibai Gijhe first bowled to her two and a half-year-old nephew, little did she know that 14 years later, he would be facing up to some of the fastest bowlers in the world, right across the border. A curly-haired dynamo, named for one of India's all-time great music composers, he had begun his steady climb up the rungs of cricketing greatness. Sachin Tendulkar had arrived.
Gulu Ezekiel has written an eminently readable life story of India's most loved sportsperson, weaving together statistics and accounts of matches from Tendulkar's cricket career with the history of Mumbai cricket, comparisons with Donald Bradman and Brian Lara, his friendship with Vinod Kambli and his transformation into an ad man's dream. Indeed, there is hardly an era of the journey, from boy-wonder to the world's greatest batsman today, that is left uncovered. Even his family — "altogether a different issue", according to the man himself — is portrayed in fairly good detail — his father Professor Ramesh Tendulkar used to take extra classes for students who had played inter-varsity cricket for Bombay University.
The author traces Tendulkar's rise up the ranks — by the elevator, as Kambli famously put it — through the Giles Shield, the Harris Shield and the Kanga League. He recounts the schoolboy's tutelage under Ramakant Achrekar and his donning the country's colours for the first time against archrivals Pakistan, in between scoring centuries on debut in each of India's three main domestic competitions — the Ranji, Irani and Duleep trophies. Sachin's coming into his own in the away series against Australia in 1991-92, his world cup campaigns, his stint at Yorkshire, his ups and downs as captain of the Indian team, and of course his many memorable innings are all recounted in detail.
The boy-man's passion for cricket shines through, as he speaks of his first experience facing up to Kapil Dev. "I couldn't sleep that night because I had played 15 balls from Kapil Dev. I remember each of those balls like it was yesterday" (p.31). While bowlers have since discovered that it is not easy to find a chink in the man's armour, Ezekiel has tried to convey a sense of how even Sachin can be human on the cricket field as when he missed his first Test century in the second Test against New Zealand at Napier in 1990: "I cried so much when I was out, I could not see" (p.54), when he finally made his first century "... at 97 there was just that tiny sign of nerves as he ducked Fraser and left his bat sticking up... " (p.61) or in the occasional sledging that he has resorted to, especially against those past masters, the Australians.
There is a little bit of everything here, that makes for cricket as it is played today. The statistics by S. Pervez Qaiser are laid out in neat and easy-on-the-eye tables, and are quite exhaustive. However, the photographs leave much to be desired, including the one on the cover.
All along the length of the book are interspersed beautiful snippets that would leave a trivia maniac panting for more: the imperturbable batsman who lets his bat do all the talking having a foul-mouthed John McEnroe as his sporting hero; Tendulkar and Gavaskar just missing playing on the same team for Mumbai at the Ranji Trophy in 1987, because the latter had announced his retirement by then; getting out to Abdul Qadir in his debut series with the off and leg stumps falling but the middle stump standing; Tendulkar breaking a batsman's nose with his bowling (for Mumbai against Delhi in the Ranji Trophy, 1990); and best pals Tendulkar and Kambli being the first to be given out by the third umpire in Tests and ODIs respectively (yes, the one about Tendulkar was old hat alright, but whoever knew of Kambli?)
* * *
IN Sourav: A Biography, Ezekiel starts with a little, gentle ribbing of the Bengali cricketing establishment, with the eternal gripe that it has had about Bengali cricketers not finding places on the national team. And indeed, he does build a fair argument for this being the case, quoting among other things, Ramachandra Guha's thesis of the correspondence between Bengal's cricketing and political fortunes.
Sourav Ganguly's life as a youngster with every comfort to speed both his and his elder brother Snehashis's rise up the Bengal cricket playing hierarchy with strong backers and well-known connections is well portrayed. In Sourav's case it was his elder brother who suffered when the former took his place for the Ranji final in 1990 that Bengal won.
While the younger Ganguly's talent was never in doubt, there have always been more than the usual talk of his attitude problem and his self-centredness, an impression that he himself has constantly denied, but which nevertheless was presumed to have brought to a hasty end his first stint in the Indian team. When he got back, he was more successful in holding on to his place. In 1997, despite a terrible year for the team as a whole, Ganguly himself had hit a purple patch becoming the highest run-getter in ODIs. That he was ambitious was also not in doubt, as he accepted that crown of thorns — the captaincy of the Indian team — as if to the manor born.
Sourav Ganguly has also had a rather testy relationship with spectators, the media, match officials and senior cricketers. Not yet out of his teens, he was hauled up before the authorities — a scene that was to play out repeatedly in the future — for taking on a rival team's fans, abuse for abuse. And as captain, he was banned for "excessive appealing and dissent" at the final ODI versus Zimbabwe at Rajkot in late 2000. Earlier in 1996, he was quick to rebut in no uncertain and quite impolitic terms Ambar Roy's criticism that Ganguly should not have played at the Eden Test versus Australia if he had not been fit — this through an article that he insisted be carried despite the newspaper's reluctance. He would later pan the media in general and Ian Chappell in particular, for having run down his team after the loss in the first Test against the Aussies in the home series in 2001.
There were facets of his game too that would leave teammates and coaches furious — notably his tendency to get his partners run out and his lackadaisical fielding. There were early signs of Ganguly not playing by the rules as the secret marriage to Dona Roy against family opposition proved. He would be the antithesis of the norm of the gentlemanly, uncomplaining cricketer.
Nevertheless, his persistent and unshakable faith in himself as player and as captain held him in good stead. To quote ex-Hampshire captain Mark Nicholas from the book: "he cares not a jot for the opinion of others. There is something of Douglas Jardine's bloody mindedness in Ganguly... " As captain his confrontations on and off the pitch with rival captains have been frequent. He has neither asked nor given any quarter and in the series against Australia, there was a conscious effort by the team to give back as good as they got. In addition, his unhesitating support for the players under him have seen him and his team bounce back always from setbacks, as was of course evident not so long ago in the World Cup. Ganguly's record of five Test wins abroad as Indian captain also speaks for itself.
An important feature of this book is that the world of advertising and sponsorships has made its presence felt, what with constant references to deals being made and broken and even threatening cricket, as in the run-up to the ICC Champions Trophy in 2002 and the World Cup after. Pervez Qaiser has continued his good work with the tables and statistics but Ezekiel has repeated whole paragraphs from his earlier work on Tendulkar. However, it is the second volume under review that truly captures its central character, warts and all.
The Book Review Literary Trust, P.B. No: 5247, Chanakyapuri, New Delhi 110021
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