Sachin Tendulkar: At 50, not out

We didn’t know him personally, but he was a very important part of our lives. The one who dictated even your moods, the one who lifted you up from all the chaos that surrounded us, the one who made you sleep well, the one who made you experience each and every one of the emotions, the one who made you grow with him, the The one who showed you how you can be the best in the world even if you come from a third world country, The one who showed you what it takes to live up to expectations, The one who taught you how to handle flattery with grace, The one who who showed you how to turn stones into milestones, who was synonymous with the transformation of a nation, who showed you that a billion people can shed tears together when they decided enough was enough 10 years ago, on November 14.

If you were born in the late 80’s or early 90’s, you might relate to this. You may not have seen him get punched in the nose by Waqar Younis or pick up champagne in Manchester. You may not have seen him play his favorite Test century in Perth or open in an ODI for the first time in Auckland or make a cricket-mad nation dream of a World Cup in 1996.

But when you got old enough to know what’s going on around you, your father, your neighbor, your older cousins, your uncles, who were already consumed by this genius, would tell you the stories as you sat with them in front of the televisions. to see. bat. Every time someone came to your terrace to adjust the antenna so that the Solidare or Nelco televisions in your living room would not show grainy images of the Little Master at work, stories of his heists were told, including how he dismantled Abdul Qadir in a game of exhibition. he passed just like his grandparents would tell him stories during bedtime.

So when you started watching cricket, you already knew who to root for. That was how you were drawn into the world of Sachin Tendulkar. Just like your grandmother was building the characters before you started watching Mahabharat on Doordarshan. So when Tendulkar comes on to bat in Durban ’97 (those were the first innings of his I can remember seeing) your mind is already filled with expectations. I had seen some of Aravinda de Silva’s art in Lahore ’96, but what one saw of Tendulkar that night was entirely new. If you happened to grow up in Tamil Nadu, the 90s were arguably the time to live.

AR Rahman, whose career began almost at the same time as Tendulkar’s, was introducing sounds into your ears that you had never heard before. And watching live cricket on TV, Tendulkar showed you something new: the back kicks, the cover shots, the straight hits, the slices… oh! You’ve heard of him, your expectations of him are already through the roof, but talk about someone who not only meets them, but exceeds them all. That was the afternoon, one day before my eighth birthday, that I entered Tendulkar’s world.

This is the phase where there is nothing to worry about. Whatever you see, you tend to think it’s yours. You start imitating him. After watching him adjust his box, you would do it in your schoolyard; after watching him play the paddle sweep, you would try to play it and break your teeth; you would erase the manufacturer’s name on your bat and write MRF; With a fever, you cried all night to convince your father to buy Pepsi because he saw him drink on TV.

You are now getting to know cricket beyond Tendulkar as Australia and Shane Warne arrive in India in ’98. Since then, no series has become more of a one-on-one contest. At Chepauk, Tendulkar would treat Warne with such disdain that no batsman has ever come close to matching him with any bowler of the same class. After the unprecedented euphoria of ’98, the following year Tendulkar showed you what heartbreak feels like. Having failed to understand the magnitude of the Titanic tragedy after watching the movie in 1997, Chepauk’s Test vs. Pakistan would give you a heartbreaking feeling. That loss still feels personal. Every time you enter Chepauk, you can still hear the collective sigh and the silence of a pin.

Then he starts hearing about his back problem. Many predict that we will not be able to see the Tendulkar of old. Yet in Nairobi, as he briefly talks to Glenn McGrath and pummels him for three sixes, you feel liberated. It is the period in which Tendulkar begins to receive support from the rest of his batting roster. Others flourish around it, the Tendulkar you grew up seeing, not the same as always, but still gives you moments like Chennai 2001, Headingley 2002 and 673 reasons to savor the 2003 World Cup, including those six.

Now you are a teenager and he is around 30 years old. You find out about the tennis elbow from him and then he disappears from your TV screens for longer periods. As you battle injury after injury, you pass classes 10 and 12. Your parents thank Tendulkar for not ruining your preparations, even as two tours to Pakistan coincide with those exams in 2004 and 2006. The number 10 disappears from the back of his jersey, replaced by 33, in reference to his age. Not the Tendulkar you knew. The 2007 World Cup comes and goes.

You are in college now. The best part of adulthood. News leaks that the 2011 World Cup final would be in Mumbai, and for now, Tendulkar is beginning to reinvent itself. Those blows that defined him are increasingly regular. Sitting in the distance, he could feel that he is preparing for 2011. As a pall of sadness descended on us in 2008, in a match against England in Chennai. He gave us a healing touch and delivered us a victory. When watching TV, you wish you were there instead of Yuvraj Singh, raising it. You see the ground crew running to say thank you. If I had been given a choice, all of India would have lined up and done the same. Your heart feels a little lighter.

You have the feeling that you can’t stop it now. He is taking things into his own hands. The 175 in hyderabad it feels more like a 90s entry. She goes to Sri Lanka and shows you that there is nothing to fear from Ajantha Mendis. A year later, he climbed Mt 200. Another expectation fulfilled.

Then, during three tests in South Africa, he becomes the best fast bowler of the time, dale steyn, he feels useless about bowling with him when the n test centuries roll around. #50 and 51. You are in your first job now and there is a World Cup at home. It is spoken of as the ideal farewell, in which Tendulkar will lift the trophy in Wankhede and announce his retirement. Everyone wants to see him say goodbye on high. Everything happens as planned, except the withdrawal.

Tendulkar is one less than 100 centuries now. As he picks and chooses the games you start to lose your patience and by the time the hundredth rolls around you feel like enough is enough. You’re getting to see the human side of him. Probably the mind is willing but the body is not. On a personal level, you hope he plays one more game in Chepauk so you can see him in person. Your wish is granted and you can watch Tendulkar bat twice in the Test. As he comes out to bat, you hear the kind of noise you’ve never heard before.

As you go off the mark with one limit and follow it with another, the decibel levels simply increase. The 81 that he marks feel double just for the experience of being there. The two sixes he hit on his first two second-inning deliveries feel more like a thank you to Chepauk, a spot he calls his favorite after Wankhede. Six months later, the moment arrives in front of his local public. He sheds a few tears, you shed many more. He is finished.

Ten years later, when he turns 50, he has given us the opportunity to review our memories. And through thick and thin, there is only one constant: Sachin Tendulkar. He keeps hitting.

venkatakrishna.b@expressindia.com