Mahela grinds India into Motera dust

Some wilt under the pressures of captaincy. For Mahela Jayawardene, it was the springboard to greatness. Always a fine batsman, and so very easy on the eye, he was one of those who frequently infuriated fans with his lack of ruthlessness. No one doubted the talent, but there were plenty of questions about whether he had made the most of it.

Then, Marvan Atapattu’s back gave before a Test series in England. And after innings of 61 and 119 salvaged the most improbable of Test draws at Lord’s – Sri Lanka batted 199 overs to save the game – Jayawardene hasn’t had the time or inclination to look back. He’s scored 13 more centuries since and now needs just 62 more to cross the 9000-run barrier. Given how the FTP isn’t very kind to Sri Lanka, that’s some achievement. Along the way, he’s scored 374 against South Africa and gone past 150 on six other occasions. After the years of moderation, the man’s become a run-glutton.

Always in shadow

Spare a thought for Rahul Dravid. Even on the day that he made one of his finest Test centuries against Sri Lanka, most of the news headlines were given over to comments made by a cartoonist-turned-right-wing ideologue. But Bal Thackeray’s critical remarks were aimed at Sachin Tendulkar, and nothing gets India into a lather quite like unkind words about its cricketing Peter Pan. So, though Tendulkar’s first innings of a third decade in Test cricket lasted just three balls, Dravid’s magnificent 177, which led the team from the wilderness of 32 for four to 426 and included his 11,000th Test run, became “in other news”.

He’s had enough time to get used to it though. Cults of personality are rare in team sport but when present, they can be especially fanatical. Most people can name only one player from the Argentina team that won football’s World Cup in 1986. With El Diego around, who could spare the time for Jorge Valdano’s finishing or Sergio Batista’s tackling? It was always the No10 and the rest.

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India’s “other” great

A month ago, he wasn’t good enough for India’s one-day side, despite having top-scored in the only completed game of consequence that the team played at the Champions Trophy. Having then enjoyed some decent form in two Ranji Trophy outings, Rahul Dravid came out and proved a point or two on the opening day of this Test series. By day’s end, he had made 177 from just 251 balls, scoring at a faster clip than MS Dhoni. Earlier in the day, he had matched Yuvraj Singh stroke for stroke as India rebuilt from the wreckage of 32 for 4.

It’s been at least two or three years since Dravid timed the ball as sweetly as he did today, and he admitted as much afterwards. With the outfield really quick, the trademark flicks through midwicket and the eased drives through cover and straight down the ground sped to the rope. And when the bowlers pitched too wide, the cut was both severe and perfectly placed.

Twinkle twinkle, little star

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart started composing at the age of five. Pablo Neruda wrote his Book of Twilights when he was 19. Sachin Tendulkar was all of six when he took up a bat in earnest. By the time he was 15, he was the most talked-about schoolboy cricketer ever. More than two decades on, he remains Indian cricket’s man for all seasons, the repository of a nation’s hope. Those that played with him in the days of auld lang syne have long since migrated to the coaching field and the commentary box. Tendulkar, his eyes perhaps set on a World Cup swansong on home turf, continues to mark his guard and settle into that unmistakable stance.

What is there left to say about this man? At the age of 18, he was standing on tiptoe to drive and cut Australia’s finest on his way to a century in Perth. At 21, he decided that he’d like to open in one-day cricket. He’s still going strong 45 hundreds later. A few days short of 25, he played an innings, with a desert storm as backdrop, that will never be forgotten by those fortunate enough to see it. At 30, faced with the longest lean trot of his career, he memorably decided to eschew the cover-drive in Sydney, ruining Steve Waugh’s farewell with a 241 that was an enactment of monastic denial on a cricket field.

An appeal to greed

It’s been nearly half a century since four mop tops from Liverpool told us, “‘Cause I don’t care too much for money, money can’t buy me love”. That’s certainly been true of the Indian cricket board (BCCI), whose coffers have swelled even as resentment towards it around the world has grown. Some of the anger comes from fossils that still yearn for a time when the far reaches of the Commonwealth were “kept in their place”, but there are many others with not a racist or imperial bone in their bodies disturbed by what they see as the organisation’s two primary mottos: “Show me the money” and “Our way or the highway”.

 

Back in early October, on the day of the Champions League final, I walked into a suite full of posh toffs and cricket officials from across the globe to talk to Haroon Lorgat, the International Cricket Council’s chief executive. One of the topics we discussed was a proposed world championship of Test cricket.

 

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Sachin and Australia

Two days after I write something on Tendulkar and 20 years at the top, he reiterates one of my points about the true definition of greatness – how you perform against the very best. You can read it here.

 

 

Mind the hair gel

After the Thrilla in Manila, Muhammad Ali was to say: “Joe Frazier, I’ll tell the world right now, brings out the best in me.” The cricketers of India and Australia appear to operate on the same principle. India, such a disappointment at the Champions Trophy in South Africa, have rediscovered their spirit. Australia, with an injury list that makes Rafael Benítez’s woes at Liverpool look trivial, have shown the same fortitude that Frazier did on that long-ago night when he was reduced to fighting from memory.

 

After falling four runs short in Vadodara, India were markedly superior in both Nagpur and Delhi. When they then produced their best fielding and bowling display of the series – four run-outs included – to restrict Australia to 250 on a beautiful batting pitch in Mohali, it seemed as though the series tide was about to turn decisively their way.

 

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Natural Born Slugger

It’s unlikely that Shahid Afridi has ever listened to Fort Minor’s hip-hop hit, Remember the Name. But if someone was to translate it for him, there’s every chance that the lyrics would resonate with a proud Pathan who has lived most of his life in Karachi.

He feels so unlike everybody else, alone

In spite of the fact that some people still think that they know him

But **** ’em, he knows the code

It’s not about the salary

It’s all about reality and making some noise

The noise associated with Afridi’s batting ever since he exploded on to the scene 13 years ago has been Boom Boom. Virender Sehwag destroys attacks with far greater consistency, and Albie Morkel can hit the ball further, but when it comes to reducing batsmanship to its most primal form, no one does it quite like Afridi. In doing so, he often brings out the Neanderthal in the fans too.

I recall a game at Kanpur in April 2005. Pakistan had come from two down to square the series, and with President Musharraf and Manmohan Singh to be part of the audience for the final game in Delhi, the match at Green Park had real significance. It was hardly a batting paradise either. The sluggish pitch and accurate bowling had stymied India’s top order, but with Rahul Dravid and Mohammad Kaif finding form, Pakistan needed to score at exactly five an over to win.

Second innings

Even if Ashish Nehra had never played another game for India, he would always have had memories of Kingsmead, the famous old ground in Durban where he bowled 10 overs on the trot to decimate England’s World Cup dreams in 2003. The numbers were special enough – 6 for 23, the best figures for an Indian in a World Cup – but most people recall the tireless effort on a humid night, with the Indian Ocean’s roar eclipsed by that of the partisan crowd. There was also the moment that spawned all the “Nehra goes bananas” headlines, as he wolfed one down and promptly threw up by the side of the pitch.

By then, it was the English who were feeling a little ill. In truth, that game should have been Sachin Tendulkar’s stage. On the eve of the game, Andrew Caddick had dared to suggest that the man with 34 one-day hundreds [at the time] was vulnerable when opening the innings. Angus Fraser, his one-time teammate, was one of many dubious about Caddick’s attempt at what Steve Waugh called “mental disintegration” and the Independent ran a story by him that was headlined: Caddick foolishly throws down gauntlet to Tendulkar.

 

Tendulkar greeted Caddick with the most emphatic of sixes over midwicket, but that evening, even he was put in the shade by Nehra’s metronomic accuracy. He bowled just one short ball all night, and with the exception of Alec Stewart, who was trapped in front, the other wickets were all edges to the wicketkeeper or slip. It was a spell that had everything: genuine pace, subtle movement off the seam and just enough variation to keep the batsmen guessing. Few knew at the time that Nehra was already crocked, and in the queue for ankle surgery.

Indian spice to the Big Bash?

After missing out on Kieron Pollard, New South Wales are said to have their eyes on Rohit Sharma and Dinesh Karthik. If something comes of it, both players – currently out of India’s 50-over picture – would benefit hugely from the experience. Karthik has impressed me each time I’ve seen him play for the Delhi Daredevils, and Rohit seems to revel in the format. Australian pitches are nowhere near as pace-and-bounce friendly as they used to be, and I can see both men making a mark if given the chance. They’ll certainly become better players as a result.