Aham Brahmasmi

 

If they ever tell my story, let them say I beheld one man obliterating the best fast bowler in the world for 25 runs in an over in a World Cup Semi-Final. Let them say I witnessed the moment when a captain gave his fast bowler three slips, a gully and a point in the 21 st  over of an ODI match. Let them say I breathed in the aura of a man who could attack, swing, crash, burn, dazzle, exult, deceive, soar, collapse with the same roguish grin on his face. Let them say I had tears in my eyes when a warrior looked into the camera and said “ This is the greatest time of our lives ” like he truly meant it. Let them say I lived in the time of McCullum.

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  We all know – have read about or heard of i.e. – this famous quote that is most often attributed to Einstein. But there’s something in it, isn’t there? The hoping against hope, the doomed foreknowledge and yet the vehement willing oneself on against the imminent inevitability. Over the last couple of seasons, I’ve often wondered if that’s the reason I still tune in to Federer’s matches towards the business end of major tournaments. There is something deep inside me – as it almost indubitably is in all of his fans – that warns of the fatal-stumble-at-the-very-end that has become an almost unavoidable part of Federer’s tournament progresses. And yet, I hope. And yet, Shaunak da hopes. And yet, Saibal da hopes. After yet another defeat, yet another heartbreak, we tell one another that we won’t get so involved again, that we’ll start out on the process of accepting that another Slam is too much to hope...

“Dravid didn’t fit into the rudimentary templates that the great art of coarse cricket writing has invented for batsmen. Here a sound technique always implies “compact defence”. Well, Dravid’s defence wasn’t compact: it was extravagant. His wrists twirled, his bat looped before the fall was disciplined into the ground.   Dravid was a great batsman who could do everything: he hooked, pulled, cut, swept, flicked and drove, but his entire technique was centred on the need to make sure the ball hit the ground first.” -     Mukul Kesavan, ‘ Extravagantly sound ’

It is a very nice feeling to be alive on a Sunday that has Roger Federer featuring in another Grand Slam final. Even better when it is a Wimbledon final. After last year, like many of us, I too believed that the Swiss magician ’ s last chance at Slam glory was well and truly gone. This year, with the calmness of a Zen master and serves laced with generous amounts of mesmerizing beauty and asphyxiating  venom, he has been a study in old-school magnificence. This Wimbledon, he has rolled back the years. This Wimbledon, he has made us dream again. Regardless of who wins today, Roger Federer has given me yet another Wimbledon to remember him by. All men must worship him. Valar Federeris.

You see the tattoo on the underside of his left forearm, the one that urges him to always give a better account of himself even if he fails forever. You hear him saying “ Well, you know, my dream was to play Roland Garros, not to win it, not to reach the final... ”, a man unassuming enough to be honest to all and sundry. You see how hard he fights his opponents, how fiercely he battles his inner insecurities. You see how a first round casualty at last year's French Open comes storming back to win the trophy this year. Stanislas Wawrinka, you deserve every bit of the love the world gives you! And then some more.

Disclaimer : Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack (2002) may have placed Tendulkar behind the great Bradman (as second greatest Test match batsman of all time) & behind the just as great Richards (as the second greatest O.D.I. batsman of all time), but I firmly believe that comparisons across generations and/or eras is, apart from being unfair to all parties involved, an exercise in futility – far too many variables have changed, & will inevitably keep changing, in this great game of ours to provide a level playing field for all of them. (Yes, the pun is intended) There are thus no comparative references to batsmen from other eras in this article. “ And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. ” – Genesis 1:3 And then, indeed, there was light. Coming from the old Videocon TV, my uncle’s most prized possession, that sat grumpily atop the only table in his room. My curiosity piqued by the pale incandescence & excited voices that seemed to be spilling out fro...

Wessel Johannes Cronjé was a good fielder, a handy bowler, an average batman (which he more than made up for by sheer grit) – but, head & shoulders above all his other cricketing credentials, he was the consummate leader. Thorough, charismatic & inspirational, Hansie (essayed in the movie by the square-jawed Frank Rautenbach) was the most revered youth icon & a household name in South Africa right through his six years at the helm of the national cricket team. Cronjé, then Coach Bob Woolmer (played by Nick Lorentz) & then Chief Selector Peter Pollock (played by David Sherwood) took the prodigal Proteas from being a bunch of unsure, recently Apartheid-returned cricketers to almost becoming World Champions. The curse of a movie about a deceased much-loved-hero-turned-anti-hero is that whenever there is someone from the immediate family behind it, one invariably tends to question the authenticity of its truth-telling abilities, for personal bias is an ever-present t...

168 Test matches, over 13000 runs in the format, with an average in the higher 50s and a joint-record of 16 consecutive victories in Test matches (although he did lose three Ashes series, a dubious distinction that he’s the only Australian captain to be in possession of). 375 ODIs, yet another 13000+ runs, with an average in the lower 40s and three World Cups in his extensive CV. 17 T20 Internationals, 400 odd runs, with a SR of 132.78. A combined tally of 71 centuries in International cricket (2779 boundaries and 246 over-boundaries) in all formats, across continents and against varying opponents. Add to that his fantastic fielding (there really should be some sort of ICC-recognized system for calculating the runs saved by each player in the field; he would surely have been a frontrunner in that record book), especially in the slip cordon and at cover (364 catches in total), and there remains no doubt that the retiring almost 38-year-old Tasmania-born Ricky Thomas Ponting is no doub...