What makes a person follow another and revere, love and respect him just as he would a God? I’ve never been able to answer that question. Yet, there is not one, but two Gods I’ve followed, and both of them belong to the world of cricket.
It began during India’s win against Pakistan in the 2003 ICC Men’s World Cup. You’d assume it was the Little Master, and I won’t blame you – his flamboyant 98 and that amazing six in the match make him an easy suspect. But, it was the laborious, unbeaten 44 by another young batsman in that match that won me over. With effortless ease and quiet gravitas, Rahul Dravid made a special space for himself in that corner of my heart that was reserved for cricket.
Anyone who was watching the man play might have mistaken him for just an average wicketkeeper – his straight drives weren’t extraordinary, he was not one step ahead of the bowlers, he was not the best fielder, and as Vice Captain, was the opposite of the aggressive Ganguly, whom many credit for having transformed the Indian team.
And yet, he was a man who knew his shortcomings. His will to improve and grind it out even in the toughest situations, never failed their commitment to my fandom. For me, his greatness lay not in the incredible sixes but in the stoic front foot defence to the world’s most lethal bowlers.
When Dravid finally hung his boots in 2012, it was in the same unassuming manner as he had started out – without a farewell, sans fanfare. India lost more than just the test series against Australia that year – it lost a legend of a player.
It would seem that cricket lost its charm for me that year. The young lineup of players who became the new faces of Indian cricket were no match for the composed genius of Mr. Dependable.
And yet, unknown to me, another player was preparing to take that coveted space in my heart – a player as unlike the dignified Wall as was possible.
Incidentally, it was in the middle of the same series that proved to be Dravid’s last, when in the middle of a test match, a young man gave the Australian crowd the finger. Talented, but brash and popular for his ‘attitude problem’, this youngster was a nightmare to those of us who were true fans of the soft-spoken, dignified crisis man, who’d kept the sanctity of the game intact for so many years.
Quite unexpectedly, though, Virat Kohli – neither underdog, nor popular – quickly rose above the ranks to become (arguably) the best player in the world. Not in a particular format, not in a country, just the best player in the world.
His initial years were full of inconsistent performances – flashes of brilliance, followed by irresponsible shots and throwaways, which reflected his devil-may-care attitude. Within a year of his debut, there were calls to drop him from the team, from fans and experts alike. Kohli’s response to the criticism was an astonishing century at Eden Gardens in 2009, the first of many consecutive masterful performances on the field. Contrary to expectations, he quickly became the most dependable batsman in the team. The victories followed in quick succession and before we knew it, Kohli was being called the Chase-Master for his incredible chases in the 2012 IPL tournament. When eventually he became captain of the Indian team, few had concerns or complaints.
But it was going on off the field that really made me begin to admire and respect the guy. Behind the glamour and flared nostrils, Kohli’s love for the sport was undeniable. He single-handedly raised the bar of fitness among cricketers around the world. TV shows started telecasting how he hadn’t touched butter chicken in years, which he admitted were to move and control his body movements better and get a split second more to react to the ball. This was dedication beyond belief. Almost unwillingly, the cricket lover in me recognised in this man a different kind of cricketing God.
Every single converted into a double, every cover drive, and every outrageous six hit straight over the bowler’s head on a short ball made me still more respectful of Virat Kohli – the brash youngster who eventually became King.
I still can’t quite reconcile the two parts of my heart split between such dynamically different sportsmen.The Crisis Man and the Chase Master. Complete opposites, yet held by the same emotion in my heart.
Lucky for me, Kohli is here to stay a while longer – his retirement would leave me a Godless man, once again, after all! Then again, who knows? Unknown to me, another young sportsperson strapping on knee pads and warming up to enter the field might just be poised to keep my devotion going after all!
Have a favourite cricket player? What is it about him or her that you like most? Write in with your thoughts for #CricketPeCharcha on Youth Ki Awaaz!