EXPECTEDLY, when India lost by a thin margin in Delhi, there was disappointment and anger. "We have," remarked a bitter critic, "again snatched defeat from the jaws of victory." Not really, the match was evenly poised, and anyway one-dayers ARE decided by thin margins where one wide, a stolen single or a diving save on the fence makes a decisive impact. The last overs were so tense that captain Ganguly, keen to keep track of unfolding events, forgot to take his pads off after being dismissed.
That India missed victory by a whisker caused gloom in the dressing room, distraught players sat with heads down, shaken by the loss. Which provoked an observer, more charitable than the earlier one, to comment that this was a welcome development. Most critics accuse the Indians of accepting defeat easily, blame players for considering losses as part of the game. This is not an accurate assessment, players realise the need to perform (if only to protect their backsides) and understand their larger responsibility towards fans and the sport as a whole.
While matches are serious business for players, for spectators this is pure entertainment, they see cricket for enjoyment and fun. A one-day game is a huge mela, people come to cheer their heroes and have a good time. This time round there was unprecedented rush for tickets (besides the customary scramble for passes), no wonder concerned officials in Delhi went underground. Cribbed someone who failed to get through to anybody after two days of desperate chasing: George Bush may flush out Bin Laden from a 50 feet deep bunker but would have failed to locate someone with tickets in Delhi.
On match day the stadium was packed, while ordinary fans crammed the stands, Delhi's VIP's populated the Club House. President Jaitley, suave and affable, went round to ensure things did not go out of hand. Seeing the mad rush - and the growing craze - he has pressed the fast- forward button on DDCA's plans for stadium renovation, which means enhanced capacity and improved facilities soon after the Zimbabwe match in end February.
But people in the crowd happily put up with discomfort, all they ask for is a glimpse of Sachin - and Sehwag - and that India wins. Consider, for example, the disappointed murmurs of a pretty lady who complained about the sluggish run rate (maarte kyon nahin?) as Ganguly blocked three balls but screamed her head off when the Indian captain deposited Giles into the stands! Clearly, the lady wanted Diwali fireworks from Indian batsmen, cricket was low on her agenda, she came to party with snazzy sun shades perched on forehead and black hair stylishly streaked a shade of brown. She carried with her all essential equipment: binocs, autograph books, Indian flag and a mobile.
Seated close to her was another committed cricket fan, a rather fierce looking sardar, probably from the interiors of Bhatinda who broke into vigorous balle-balle each time a boundary was scored. His face was painted in the colours of the Indian flag, the T-shirt had names of the team on the chest and on the back was an interesting message which said: The bottom line is to win! The young sardar conveyed the mood of the entire crowd. Winning matters, in fact, winning alone matters. What is the use of training, coaching, NCA, MRF, camps, physios, psychologists, foreign this, foreign that if the team does not win? Winning is viagra, it provides strength and potency; the body language is transformed, the team acquires an aura, the sponsors start smiling. Even the media starts writing cute things.
Nobody can escape the reality that cricket serves exciting on-field action and a delicious social cocktail. The Club House crowd treats the match as a fashion parade and a social engagement, a happening event which contains the right mix of sport, entertainment and loads of fun. A cricket game is a place to chill and have a ball.
But the emphasis remains squarely on instant action, everything must move quickly. Runs should be scored quickly, bowlers have to bowl not just to beat the bat but register high marks on the speed gun. Anything not frenzied is rejected - the artistry of Sourav's cover drive or Sachin's imperious back foot strike through the off is fine but, basically, we want masti. Yeh dil chahta/mangta hai action. Cricket triggers a massive dose of plastic nationalism as well, it does not (and should not) move us as much as Kargil but when Sachin demolishes bowlers a strong feeling of deshbhakti is aroused.
Next to Sachin, Sehwag is Indian cricket's biggest star but he remains unaffected by his rapidly rising status. "I just play my game and when a ball is there to be hit, I hit it," he says with a smile. Is he affected by the expectations of fans? "Not really," he replies. "I work hard and leave the rest to God."
This philosophical view, in someone so young, might seem surprising but Sehwag's incredible rise was probably authored by the Almighty himself. Till class 11 Sehwag did not play cricket, in a school trial he made a hundred in about 38 balls, he did not know what a turf wicket was till much later.
He made 99 (inclusive of several sixes) in his first major club game, and was dismissed trying to hit a left-arm spinner over mid-wicket because six fielders were defending the off side boundary!
Sehwag is an amazing success story, in less than four years since his first class debut he is today one of the most gifted stroke makers in the game. Yet his methods remain simple and uncomplicated. He still practices at his old club ground in the company of kids who chuck synthetic cricket balls at him in the nets. "That is good for tackling short balls," says Virender Sehwag. Simple, isn't it?
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