Ganguly, when he was the God of the off-side |
“I don’t plan to retire. I will play for India as long as I am selected. If I’m dropped from the Indian team, I’ll play for Bombay. If I’m dropped from the Bombay team, I’ll play for Dadar Union. If I’m dropped from the Dadar Union team I’ll play galli cricket near my house. I’ll play for as long as I can. I’ll never retire.”
This
was Sunil Gavaskar’s reply to a journalist who once asked him when he planned
to retire. This may have been in a cricket magazine called Sportsweek I
used to subscribe to as a child. This was long before the internet, I wasn’t able to Google up the reference. This was also from a time before sportmen had
handlers, or image consultants, telling them what to tell journalists to
maximize their brand endorsement income. These words probably were a good
reflection of what Sunil Gavaskar thought at the time.
Gavaskar drives through the covers |
Those
words stayed in my mind for so long because that comment, that attitude,
epitomizes why Sunil Gavaskar was my first ever hero. By believing that the
game was worth playing no matter how humble the setting, Gavaskar was sticking
up for every amatuer cricketer, everywhere. Gavaskar was raising
a fist for every kid who has stepped up to the crease in a schoolyard, risking humiliation
in front of an army of snarky fourteen year olds, for the pleasure of feeling
the thonck of bat on ball. The greatest batsman in the world
was effectively punching gloves with every Mumbaikar who has ever burnt up a weekend playing Kanga league cricket in the monsoon rain on Shivaji
Park maidan, or every Yorkshireman who has braved the bitter cold and howling
winds of an English May to play for his village.
There
have, of course, been many avatars of Sunil Gavaskar, avatars
who don’t always see eye to eye. The sulky blocker who made 36 not out off 174
balls against England in the 1975 World Cup probably wouldn’t shake hands with
the furious belligerent of 1983 who scored 100 off 94 balls, in a test match,
facing Malcolm Marshall and Michael Holding, to equal Sir Donald Bradman’s
record of 29 test centuries.
Ultimately,
the avatar who refused to retire didn’t win the battle for Gavaskar’s soul.
Gavaskar did retire on a high. He stepped down as the Indian captain after
winning the 1985 World Championships in Australia, with Ravi Shastri driving the team around the MCG in his Audi. He retired from playing active
cricket in 1987, after scoring a century at Lord’s in a five day game to
celebrate the MCC’s bicentenary. Gavaskar doesn’t live in Dadar any more,
I don’t think he plays galli cricket nowadays outside his swank
apartment on the Worli sea face.
Ganguly b Malinga 16 |
The Indian player
who inherited the best of Gavaskar's spirit is Saurav Ganguly. More than any
other player since Sunny, Ganguly is the one who is obviously animated by a fierce
pride and an entirely irrational passion for the game.
Saurav's
stubbornness, his irrationality, that refusal to just accept reality, is
what made it possible for him to take charge of the Indian team after the horrors
of Azharuddin, and turn it into a team we were proud to support. That same stubbornness,
the same refusal to accept reality was on display yesterday. Saurav's IPL team, the Pune Warriors,were up against the Mumbai Indians. Saurav was awful. He made a laboured 16 off 24 balls before Lasith
Malinga cleaned him up. What made it even harder to watch was that he
clearly was trying hard, and his crawl probably cost his team the game.
Yet, despite
that predictable awfulness, I loved him for having the burning desire to come and play.
Saurav will play for as long as they let him. He doesn't need to. His image
consultants will tell him not to. He doesn't need the glory or the money.
He could settle for a safe job, as a coach, or commentator, or "mentor".
But for India's captain Saurav the lion heart, yeh dil maange more.
Whether Pune Warriors did the smart thing by inviting Saurav to come
out of retirement and captain their team is an entirely different question. That is
a topic for another day.