There was such poise in his presence, such power behind his shots, such assurance when he stood at the crease. And to think he was not yet 14 then. Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar already had a halo surrounding him, scoring so many big hundreds that it astonished the bench when he failed. The year was 1987, and in Mumbai’s cricketing circles, he was already a future superstar. My memory quite vividly tells me, in one of the school matches at Azad Maidan, he won us a game almost single-handedly, scoring 178 not out. He drove with precision, cut and pulled with elan. He not only took on the bowlers but also the crowd which had come to support the local school team, Anjuman-e-Islam. He epitomised the Mumbai cricketer’s attitude from then, not ceding an inch to the opposition. After the game, we went for Top Gun at Regal theatre. We celebrated our win, had some fun, then caught a train and went back to Shivaji Park for practice. What amazed me about Sachin that day was how easily he switched roles, an aggressive, mature cricketer on the field and a total teenager off it!
Years went by and from a promising youngster he became the heart-throb of Indian cricket, the mainstay of India’s batting. In 1999, before Sachin left for the World Cup we friends decided to meet up over dinner at my place. Deep in conversation, I was astonished that he could remember all his hundreds in school cricket, even the mode of dismissal and the bowler he got out to.
As the evening progressed, we suddenly heard some loud voices. I peeped outside to see what the commotion was about. The sight was shocking—a sea of people stood outside my window screaming “Sachinnnnnn, Sachinnnnn”. It was as if we were in the stadium. I became almost paranoid, worried about his security, but Sachin was cool. He glanced outside and in fact reassured me that things would be just fine, that all this was “normal”. normal!! He then walked up to the window and pulled open the curtains. The crowd broke into a loud cheer and clapped. He smiled and waved to them, as if an emperor waving to his subjects. The memory still gives me goose bumps. They wished him luck and slowly disbursed.
664 n.o.: Tendulkar, Kambli during their marathon partnership (Photographs courtesy: The Making of a Cricketer)
Today the man has gone beyond human boundaries as a cricketer. His feats defy logic, defy convention. Revered by Indians and fans the world over, he is the closest the post-War era has seen to the great Sir Don Bradman. But in spite of dominating international cricket for over 21 years, his heart still beats for Mumbai cricket. This was evident when we were playing the Ranji Trophy finals in Hyderabad in ’09. Surprisingly, he got out early but kept a close eye on proceedings sitting in the Mumbai dressing room. He had a white board on which he kept writing notes and numbers, making crosses and ticks on it after every session till the time we had a firm grip on the match. All of us in the dressing room were struck by his involvement and love for Mumbai cricket.
Now, as he becomes the first cricketer to get 200 runs in an ODI, the first one to complete 50 Test hundreds, only the World Cup remains to be conquered. The pressure of expectations has never bothered him. This time, hopefully, the Cup will come home with him.
The author is a former Mumbai Ranji team captain
