Unfortunately, WWE (then WWF) and Shaktimaan ended up capturing my attention more often. I even recall an instance when I wanted to watch a cartoon on TV, my grandfather an India v Pakistan match (yes, I was a goof).
Later, New Zealand were scheduled to tour India and I was all enthusiastic about just one major facet of that series - Tendulkar was set to return after a back spasm that had kept him out of action for a while. That New Zealand series was when I became a cricket freak. My friends and I started discussing how a rejuvenated Tendulkar would prove to be our deal-breaker and how Javagal Srinath would steam in and rattle the Kiwi top order.
It was then that I became an avid cricket fan, watching my team beat the Black Caps in both the Test and ODI series. Along side Tendulkar, I started witnessing the likes of Rahul Dravid and Sourav Ganguly, who in the years to come would epitomize the mainstay of the Indian batting. The result of this was that I started copying Tendulkar’s inside-out six shot and bowled like Srinath (I was complimented more for my imitation skills, though).
I would go to school and shout the lines from my favorite Indian cricketers in a Pepsi or Wills ad. Not too long after, India would have a rather forgettable tour of Australia where we would register just one win in as many as 20 encounters. I again used to be saddened by the fact that Tendulkar as a captain was failing time and time again, since that feeling of wanting him to get a hundred every time had kind of crept in. Hansie Cronje passed away, the match-fixing scandal came into the limelight, Ganguly became the captain and led India to series wins against South Africa, Zimbabwe, England and of course that famous series against the Aussies in 2001.
I remember having heard that ‘Cricket is a religion’ in a very trivial manner. Little did I know that almost a decade later, I would realize that this is clearly an understatement in our nation where every individual who follows cricket considers himself an analyst and believes what he thinks is the best that either Tendulkar or MS Dhoni should do.
Those glorious days of the beautiful game, that period from 1999-2007, were something to embark upon. I would always rest my hopes on the shoulders of Tendulkar, Dravid and Ganguly to carry my team forward and more often that not my hopes paid off. Watching them walk back to the pavilion in a tough, competitive encounter at times used to bring me to tears, only to forget about the tragic result and packing another big bag of hopes for the next match. Such was the intensity and the drama of every single match.
The virtual connection we people formed with our team was beyond reality, something beyond the words of any dictionary. It was then the biggest heartbreak was when your favorite player got out on 99. That agonizing “NO” was hard to accept and would be louder than my mother screaming at me when I wouldn’t put things back in place.
Commentators too used to instill a totally different vibe into the game. Tony Greig would jump off his seat and shout his lungs out whenever Tendulkar would smash the ball out of the park, addressing the ball as a girl – “Into the fence she goes”. Or when Navjot Sidhu would notoriously use phrases on air such as “the ball would have easily kissed an air hostess and come down”.
A time where chasing a score of 300 was almost next to impossible, I believe I was privileged enough to see my team chasing down such targets on many occasions. The 301 against South Africa in Kochi, 325 against West Indes in Ahmedabad and that 326 against England at Lord’s were my personal favorites.
It’s surreal to believe that I saw these cricketers reach the iconic statuses that they are at now. The Yuvrajs and Zaheers had burst into the limelight as promising newcomers and we all know what they are capable of doing today. A hat-trick was termed as a ‘once in a life-time’ moment. Something that people would reserve to tell their kids about in the future.
In India, so many budding cricketers came and went. That period saw ample number of wicket keepers generate from different parts of the country, only to fleetingly grace the international stage. The likes of MSK Prasad, Sameer Dighe, Vijay Dahiya and Ajay Ratra all promised big but failed to live up to expectation. Bowlers like Debashish Mohanty, Avishkar Salvi and Tinu Yohannan all had potential but somehow it was never utilized.
Not too long ago when Dravid decided to call it a day, it was saddening. The era where I grew up watching cricket is slowly and steadily closing its door on the cricketing front. Four years back the spinning legend Anil Kumble, the third-highest wicket-taker in Tests, decided to quit after receiving a blow to his bowling arm. The feeling was again the same but a little more intense when Ganguly decided to inflict upon us the irony of no longer being able to witness the most majestic cover drive in world cricket (maybe this was because of the Bong connection). Yes, the off-side will always miss Dada.
It is a known fact that change is inevitable and that all of this would have never remained permanent since every good thing must come to an end. But accepting this fact is turning out to be tougher than expected with every retirement. One can’t help but emphasize with the generation to follow because although they would always remain connected to cricket through their favorite Dhoni or Virat Kohli but they would never be attached to the game the way we were. They would never shed tears on the failure of their favorite cricketer and nor would they ever imitate their batting stance. There would never be another ‘c Dravid b Kumble’ mode of dismissal and nor would ‘McGrath to Tendulkar’ ever appear on our television screens again.
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