A Poetic Justice ???

July 22nd, 2007 would probably remain as a historic day in a few minds. When the clock ticked to 20 minutes past 4 in the afternoon the whole of Lords stood in unison. It was a moment when one of all time sound test player was leaving the arena while the other one was just entering. For the one final attempt.
India was reeling at 55/2 chasing an improbable target of 380 at Lords and in came the little master, or should I say, arguably the world’s best batsman of our era? The stage was set for him, to make a final attempt and evolve into a genius, to score that elusive century at Lords and save India.
But, as it has been in most of the cases, the expectations got better than his capabilities. After a tantalizing stay of 35 balls in the middle, the murderer of Shane Warne could not judge a simple arm ball from an upstart left arm spinner and the dreaded finger of Steve Bucknor sent him back on the long journey.
The scoreboard showed for the statisticians –
SR Tendulkar lbw b Panesar 16 (42m 35b 3x4 0x6) SR: 45.71

Again, true to its legendary status, Lords applauded the superhero, albeit for a different reason. They acknowledged the contribution this man has made all over the world in the game, the entertainment he has provided to every spectator even though they happened to be those unlucky few who always remained thirsty.

So, in a career spanning over almost 1.6 decades (and still counting), Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar has not been able to get a century at the Mecca of world cricket. Not a very big thing to loose your sleep over, ehh??

So what?? Would thunder the billion followers. There are so many players who have not scored a century at Lords. And how on earth could I still breathe without remembering those magnificent innings at MCG, WACA, Old Trafford, Barbados or Johannesburg. How should I justify my love for the game without remembering his service to this poor India (not in economy, in sports, any sport you could think of)? The burden on him is heavier than Hercules’s, age is catching up with him and my connection of Lords with Mecca of cricket – it smells about old colonial hangover man.
And I am not supposed to react. Because you couldn’t fight against a billion with rational statistics.

So what if he doesn’t have a match saving effort in second innings (isn’t it also the responsibility of 10 others in the team?), so what if he is kind enough to rookie spinners but not to Warne, so what if he doesn’t have a triple century to his name and so what if he is only doing a shadow fight in the middle?

In a sense, I find it perfectly justified that most of the present famous Indian cricketer don’t posses moments which every cricketer would love to. A world cup victory, a series win in Australia (against a full strength side) or South Africa, a brilliant match winning triple century at Perth, MCG or Barbados. There are so many of them.

In my book they simply don’t deserve them. Not because they are not talented, not because they are not sincere and also not because they don’t love to win. It is just that we prefer flair against effective, percentage cricket. And it’s not only their fault. It’s a collective failure of the countrymen, of the billion fans and of the system. We could produce a few Sachins or Azhars but not a single Steve or Gilchrist. Because they are not entertaining, they are only winners.
And in sports, like in any sphere of life, to succeed you need people who could fight. They might not produce the magic wrists or godly off drives, but their ugly fight would bring laurels. We keep appreciating the entertaining brand of cricket and then hope that rain would save the day for us.

It’s a natural justice that the famous quartet of this generation (Sachin, Rahul, Sourav and Laxman) retires without winning a series in England or Australia. It’s only but natural that they produce billion fans, but very very few moments which they could cherish long after. I am happily justified in describing those accolades showered on them only because of volumes and market economics rather than pure cricketing jurisprudence.

No century at Lords for Sachin and Rahul? Somewhere somebody really knows the definition of silent justice.

Or should I call it “The Poetic Justice”?