My First Wingman

It’s 2:30 PM on a Wednesday. He is on a leave from office today. Listening to the radio while prepping the dishes for lunch, knowing his son will be home from school any moment now. The bell rings. His son runs in & drops the school bag by the side. “I didn’t really understand what you told me yesterday, let’s sit again, NOW!” the kid’s voice showed urgency. The father pushes for having lunch first but knows his son isn’t going to wait. So he gets a pen & paper and the two sit down at the dining table. “So, which part should we go over again?” the father asks his ten-year-old son.
“The follow-on system in test matches..” the son promptly responds.

The story above is one among the many cricket centric interactions I have had with my father, which as a matter of fact, started quite early. Remember how as a child, we used to practice maths by solving the addition & subtraction sums from the textbook? I had a slightly different curriculum at times, one where my father would give questions regarding different test match scenarios & I had to deduce the right answer – the 4^th innings target, the follow on margin, the lead, the trail, the result. Numbers and cricket, for me, a match made in heaven, entered my life at a very young stage.

I developed an interest in cricket from the age of 10 and my father was the one who introduced me to consuming the sport on TV. Little did he know that his interest in the sport would only grow manifold for his son, sometimes to his own dismay. The older I grew, the more mature & detailed our discussions became - the best cricketing moments, the most peculiar players, the match winning performances, the failure, the struggle, the jubilation. We would sit glued to the TV set & discuss the happenings, take a trip down memory lane when we went for a stroll in the park, and of course, the occasional game of cricket on the terrace between the father – son. 

As I grew fonder of the sport, I began to transcend the boundaries of “consuming cricket”. Staying up till late, waking up early, watching the entire 90 overs of play, reading through articles & magazines, collecting pictures from newspapers -  anything & everything that involved cricket.

We gradually reached a point where now I was his source of update about the cricketing events – big & small. Where once he used to wake me up at 5:30 in the morning for the test match in Australia, now I was waking him up after midnight because the India V Pakistan match had gone into a bowl out at the World T20 in South Africa.

Then came the IPL, one where our loyalties went separate ways. He was a Dhoni admirer and hence CSK supporter, & Pune for the last two years. I supported Rahul Dravid – so my loyalties moved from Royal Challengers Bangalore to Rajasthan Royals & then Delhi Daredevils for the last two seasons. Over the years, we developed this gesture of our own wherein we would congratulate each other on their team’s victory. And when the two sides were against each other, post the result, the losing team's supporter would graciously congratulate his counterpart. What first started off as a routine soon became a tradition as the years progressed.

And this tradition didn’t cease even after I left home to pursue higher education. We would text each other, sometimes words of congratulations, at others, of encouragement.  It was also quite funny, in a way that both our favourite teams got suspended for a couple of years.  And now when my job keeps me away from home, the tradition still carries on. We kept a track of the matches of the two teams – Pune & Delhi, and messaged each other the first thing after the game. And while sometimes I might forget, he never did.

It’s not a big thing. It’s not a small thing either.

I could easily write about all the things my dad taught me, the values I imbibed from him, those that made me who I am. But for today, I thought of sharing this aspect of our relationship, because it’s more personal, and dearer to me. Those who know me are aware of my love for cricket & the huge interest in its trivia & statistics, well now you know who lay the founding stone.

Cricket is my first love, and in that regard, my dad - my first wingman.

Thank you, Bajaj Saahab!
Happy Father’s Day!  

The Man I Tried To Hate

December 23’ 2004

India V/S Bangladesh, 1^st ODI

After whitewashing them in the test series, India started off the one-day series by beating Bangladesh, although not by a big margin- eleven runs. India had two debutants. One of them, the wicketkeeper- batsman, got run out off the very first ball he faced – a golden duck. Surprisingly, there was also not a single caught behind in Bangladesh’s innings, not the kind of welcome one would hope for. Never mind, it’s Bangladesh, more chances will come.

Twelve years have passed since; twelve years & fifteen days to be precise, and that “not so lucky” debutant last week decided to return back to that role – a wicketkeeper-batsman in the Indian ODI team. What happened in these twelve years you ask? A lot.

I belong to that generation who grew up idolizing the famed quartet: Tendulkar, Dravid, Ganguly & Laxman. We might not have seen their first few years in international cricket but have seen the ones that defined them. I was 11 when MS Dhoni made his debut. At that time, I didn’t know I was going to witness the entire career of someone who would take Indian cricket to new heights in the years to come. Nobody did.  

September 24’ 2007

“In the air, Sreesanth....... takes it!!”
You know what I’m talking about. We had just won a World Cup. And this was a tournament we were not expected to do well in. The star players had rested themselves, a young team was sent, not to Sri Lanka or Dubai, but South Africa. We didn’t expect ourselves to do too well, let alone win the tournament. And that is what MS Dhoni did, giving the word “expectations” a whole new meaning. And that for me, is his legacy as a captain.

You always see the lead actor bearing the burden of a movie’s fortunes at the box office, the director, not so much, at least not in the public eye. Same was the case with Indian cricket, the lead star was Sachin Tendulkar, and every little success or failure was somehow made to relate to him. But now we had a new movie director, one who had a vision, was vocal about it, and most importantly, was assuming the position only a few had held before him – take responsibility for the fortunes of the men in blue. And boy did he give us results!

Winning the 2008 CB Series in Australia, taking India to #1 in test rankings in 2009, the zenith - winning the ODI World Cup in 2011, the Champions Trophy triumph in  2013 & the semi-finals of the 2015 World Cup. Interspersed amongst these victories were some epic bilateral victories – in all three formats, against the most formidable of oppositions. Gradually, and quite unknowingly we moved on from asking “Sachin hai kya?” to the more assuring “Dhoni hai na..”

But I must confess here, there was a time when I had begun to (reluctantly) dislike him, and it had nothing to do with how he played, rather what he did. Rahul Dravid will forever remain my favourite cricketer, so quite naturally, when MSD decided to drop him (along with Ganguly) from the ODI side, I was disheartened, upset, angry. At first I thought he was rested (Pakistan ODI series 2007), but when it happened for the second time (CB series 07/08) and the third (Kitply Cup tri Series, Bangladesh, 2008), I was not happy. I knew Dravid still had a lot to contribute to the ODI setup, but our new “film director” had other plans. Not that my loyalty flinched, I still wanted the team to do well, and was happy when it did. But deep down, I had a belief that Dravid deserved to be in that team, some hope that he would come back and alongside I had a little hatred for Dhoni. Dravid did come back, as always, when the team needed him (2009 tri-series in Sri Lanka & the Champions Trophy that followed), and when he did do decently well, I had that “Hah! Told You So!” feeling. Thankfully, this little phase of disgruntlement with Dhoni only had a guest appearance in my life, and even during that phase, it didn’t affect my perception of his skills & talent.   

After serving as captain for almost a decade, last week, he felt he was ready to pass on the baton. And he did so in the same sudden, quiet manner with which he announced his test retirement. Perhaps he felt the time was right to let someone else take the team forward, someone else to drive the bus, someone else to assume the "director’s" role. He didn't quit when the team was going through a bad patch, but did so when the team was at the other end of the curve. This is a selfless thing, not everyone can do it, not everyone does it.

But he hasn’t hung up his boots as yet, and will continue to play as a wicket keeper-batsman for some more time. And when I think of it again, it seems like yesterday when I saw a young Dhoni smash 148 against Pakistan, and obliterate Sri Lanka with a devastating 183*.

Dear MS, I have been lucky & fortunate to witness your cricketing journey and look forward to the last few chapters that await us. I wish to see a glimpse of that young Dhoni once again, bringing his “helicopter” out at will, playing freely, without expectations, without burden. Thank you for everything you have done for the nation, and before you decide to bid farewell to the sport, please take us back in time to 2005 so that we can once again shout, loudly enough: “Mahi Maar Raha Hai, Mahi Maar Raha Hai..”