Sachin @ 50: Celebrating a Maestro

Anjali, the Best Half

ANJALI TENDULKAR

When you live with someone long enough, they become a part of you. To write about Sachin, therefore, isn’t easy—because it is a reflection of myself as much as it is about him. We have known each other for 33 years now. Every day has been a celebration of our similarities and differences. We have gone through different stages of our partnership, like every couple—courtship, marriage, becoming parents, and to now seeing our children become adults and carve out their own lives.

We come from very different cultural backgrounds. Yet, we have been brought up with the same value systems. Both of us believe in according every person’s dignity and respect. What is praiseworthy about Sachin is that despite all the fame and adulation, he still treats everyone equally. Irrespective of someone’s position in society, he treats everyone the same. Whoever comes to our home is our guest—and they will be treated with the same warmth. Money, power and success are immaterial; what comes foremost is that every person is a unique human being who deserves respect. Sachin and I feel very strongly about this, which we have tried to pass on to our children as well.

We have differences as well. For example, both of us love gadgets. But I would go through the operations manual before I start operating one, whereas Sachin would be more hands-on, and he would work his way through the device and figure it out by using it.

We have both supported each other in our personal and professional lives. When Sachin played for India, there would be phases when I realized he needed to be given the space required. Likewise, he has been a very supportive partner. Many people have asked me what I have planned for Sachin’s 50th birthday. We have been very private people—so this birthday will be no different. It’ll be something with very close friends and family.

Teammates

SOURAV GANGULY

Sachin is and will always remain a special person. And it was an absolute pleasure to have him and his family with us for my 50th birthday celebrations in London in July 2022. It was much like old times. We had a lot of food together and just chatted. Went back in time to the good old days. To the many moments, we have spent together. To the many successes and failures, we shared together. What was fantastic was the presence of a grown-up Sara, who I had seen as an infant in New Zealand in 1997. I had taken our daughters out for dinner, and it was such a heartwarming sight to see the two beautiful ladies converse. In 1997 Sara was finding it hard to adjust to the time zone in New Zealand. It was natural for an infant. And I remember Anjali sitting in the hotel lobby at night with baby Sara on her lap to try and allow Sachin some sleep, for we had a game the next day. Dona and I would take turns to give her a break, and to see the same Sara grow up into such a beautiful, intelligent girl is an absolute delight. Anjali was also there for my 50th, which made the whole experience special. Some relationships just mean a lot to you. My bond with Sachin is one such.

Sachin and I go back a really long way. The first time I met Sachin was at an under-14 camp in Indore. We were 13, Sachin eight months younger, and we were there at the camp conducted by Vasu Paranjpe under the aegis of the Madhya Pradesh Cricket Association. Sanjay Jagdale was instrumental in putting the camp together. I first noticed that the curly-haired boy from Bombay just loved to bat. He was the first at the nets and just kept batting. Such was his passion and intensity that Vasu had to eventually pull him out on occasions. Sachin would just bat, bat and bat. At the camp, everyone talked about him, and it was apparent that he was blessed with exceptional talent. He would hold the bat lower than the norm; this would mean he’d not feel the pressure of his heavy bat. He already had all the shots in the book and timed the ball beautifully.

After that first meeting, Sachin had catapulted himself into the national reckoning within a couple of years. He had already scored hundreds at the Ranji and Irani trophies before he was 17. So it wasn’t a surprise that at 16, he was picked for the Indian tour to Pakistan in 1989. I did not watch many of his knocks in Pakistan as I was touring with the Bengal team. However, I watched the one match where he took apart Abdul Qadir. It was a rain-curtailed ODI reduced to a 20-over-a-side exhibition contest. However, when it is an India versus Pakistan match, it can never be not seriously competitive. When Sachin came out to bat, the asking rate had gone well over 10 an over, and India needed a miracle. That nearly happened, thanks to Sachin. He went ballistic and scored 53 of 18 balls, and in the process, hit four sixes to Qadir to all corners of the ground. It was incredible hitting. Once again, it was an announcement to the broader cricket world that he was special. Eventually, India lost by a meagre four runs.

We again met during India’s tour to Australia in 1992. I was part of the team but wasn’t expected to play the Tests, while Sachin gradually established himself as the team’s premier batsman. Importantly, we were roommates during this tour, and I remember him in Sydney the night before he went on to get his first century in Australia. India was down 0-2, and we needed to play well in Sydney to regain confidence. Sachin just refused to sleep that night. I remember telling him that if he was to play the next day, he desperately needed to sleep. He said he couldn’t and started telling me where he would hit McDermott and the others! By midnight I was asleep, leaving him to his devices. The next day he said to me that he was starved of sleep and that he’d nap on the dining table in the team dressing room at the SCG. He asked me to wake him up at the fall of the next wicket. Sachin was to bat at number six, and I woke him up when Azhar got out. He said he was refreshed now that he’d had some sleep. It was odd how he could sleep on a dining table! He played a terrific innings of 148, not out, and I believe we should have won the Sydney Test.

However, his best of the series was yet to come. It came in Perth in what was the world’s fastest wicket. The WACA pitch is now slower than in 1992, and it was undoubtedly one of the hardest wickets to bat on. Sachin’s height made it more challenging to negotiate the excessive bounce, for it was impossible for a short man to play shots in front of the wicket. I can say it was the best innings of his career. To score a hundred on that wicket against the Australian bowling attack was simply sensational. Most of our other batsmen weren’t even able to get bat on ball, and here was an 18-year-old putting together a batting master class.

After the Australia tour, I was dropped from the Indian team, and it was in 1996 that Sachin and I again shared the dressing room in England. I batted well in the tour games leading up to the tests, and he came up to me one day to say my opportunity would come soon. I hadn’t played the first Test where he got a hundred. However, we lost the match at Edgbaston and conceded a 0–1 lead to England. I got my chance in the Second Test. I was to bat at three, while Sachin was to bat at four. We were not out overnight in our first partnership, and he kept telling me to play straight and get behind the line of the ball. The following day, he got out to a peach from Chris Lewis while I managed to get to a century. At tea, when I returned to the dressing room, my bat started to make a creaky sound due to the pounding it had taken. Sachin came up to me and said that I should just relax as I had to bat post tea, and he would tape my bat up. He did so, and I could keep playing with it through the innings. At the end of the day, he said it was just a start, and I should not give it away, and I had a long Test career ahead of me and should make the most of my talent.

We played a tour game between the second and third Tests at Hampshire in which I batted with one of Sachin’s bats because mine was broken. Our bats were of the same weight, and I remember walking up to him to ask if I could borrow a bat of his. He was accommodating as usual, and I got a hundred once again. Unfortunately, most of the other teammates were very senior, so I couldn’t ask them for their bats. Sachin and I had been friends for nearly a decade, which was par for the course.

In the next Test at Trent Bridge, we both got hundreds. I remember in one particular session before lunch, he was finding it extremely difficult to negotiate the swing. He was beaten several times but, being a true great, was still not out on 30 or so at lunch. I was unbeaten at 44 when we went back for the breather. Watching from the other end, I felt Sachin was going too hard at the ball when he could have just timed the deliveries. Over lunch, I told him hushedly where he was going wrong. Post lunch, he was a different batsman. In fact, he reached his hundred before me, and Geoffrey Boycott said on commentary that he wondered what Sachin had for lunch, for he had come out a completely different batsman.

He is the greatest cricketer I have ever seen. I haven’t seen Bradman, but he is as close to perfection as you can get. His insatiable hunger and incredible talent made him an absolute genius. When people say things about him, I point to them the 100 international hundreds. Can you imagine the hunger and motivation of a player who has achieved that? The difference between Sachin and a really good player is that the latter, if he scores a hundred in the first innings and has once again scored a fifty in the second, will, in all likelihood, play one loose shot after that. It happened to us all. Sachin, however, will leave nothing to chance and will get the second innings hundred as well. That’s why I always say that Lara was great and Ponting was brilliant, but Sachin, without hesitation, is the greatest.

I will not be exaggerating if I say that, barring Sachin; no one knows his game better than I do. In fact, on occasions, I could read his mind with consummate ease. If he shuffled across to the off side with his feet at an angle, I could sense that he was lining himself up to go over square leg. In fact, it once happened that he was trying to hit Shaun Pollock over square leg and was moving towards his off stumps to do so. The pitch did not offer enough pace for the shot, and it was apparent that the wily Pollock wouldn’t bowl him a short one. I went up to him and told him as much, and he soon changed his plan of attack.

Of course, he would do the same to me and often cautioned me from playing too many shots on the off side. Having batted for years together, we could read each other’s minds, making batting together enjoyable.

While I can keep going on and on about the best batsman I have seen and played with, I will restrict myself to talking about one more incident for the paucity of space. This is about the 2003 World Cup in South Africa. It was a tournament where we played some of our best cricket ever, and Sachin was in imperious form right through.

Before the tournament, there was a debate over his batting position. I felt he should bat at number four and guide the middle order. Needless to say, I was wrong. We had a meeting in South Africa between John Wright, Anil Kumble, Sachin and myself, and Anil suggested that he open the batting for us. I asked Sachin what he wanted to do, and he preferred to bat at the top of the order. I had never imposed my wish on my teammates and agreed to the proposition. The rest, as they say, is history. Sachin tore into opposition bowling attacks and guided us to the final. And this included playing one of his best knocks ever against Pakistan at Centurion on 1 March 2003.

Pakistan had scored a challenging 273 batting first. While walking out at mid-innings, I asked Sachin if we should have a team talk. He was clear we shouldn’t. He said we were already playing very well, and there was no need to disturb the momentum. Discussion would only end up confusing the boys. So I dropped the idea and left it to him to go out and play his game. Needless to say, he did. We hit 60 in the first five overs, and soon it was all over for Pakistan. Sachin again did it for us with an innings of the highest calibre. It was the tournament’s most high-pressure encounter, and he delivered when it mattered the most.

While wishing him a very happy 50th birthday, it is time I say it for one final time. He is the best I have seen and will ever see. No batsman in the next decade and more can score 100 international hundreds. Well done, my friend. And a very happy birthday.

HARBHAJAN SINGH

When I got scared seeing an angry Sachin

I was 13 when I first got a glimpse of Sachin Tendulkar but sadly, from a height of at least 30 feet and an 80-metre distance.

Indian and Sri Lankan teams were engaged in one among its innumerable bilateral ODIs back in 1993–94. Little did I know then that I would be a fixture of many such contests in the future. That day, I was one of the designated ball boys who had been summoned from local academies. But a problem arose, and there were way too many ball boys at the boundary line.

So one of the officials told me to climb up the iron stairs and help the scorers run the Manual scoreboard. So even when India fielded, Sachin mostly stood in the inner circle. So I was dejected. But I did watch Vinod (Kambli) closely standing near the boundary line.

But I did enjoy one thing. Sachin scored quite a few runs, and it was fun helping the scorer change the digit plates. However, once the match ended, those were pre-ACU days, and everyone tried entering the dressing room. Police could hardly control it as many organisers were trying to jostle for photos. I, the little sardar, climbed down the scoreboard and, with my pencil-thin frame, could manoeuvre easily among the big-bodied sardars and managed to sneak into the dressing room.

I saw Sachin for the first time; he was barely 20 and looked baby-faced. After that, I went back home and bragged about seeing Sachin to anyone who would listen. The first proper introduction to Sachin happened around three years later, in 1997, when I had already made a name in junior cricket as the guy who could bowl the doosra. I was summoned to India nets in Mohali before a Test match against Sri Lanka.

I bowled for a few days and for hours to all the India batters—Sachin, Rahul, and Dada. I was awestruck when I first saw Sachin at the other end of 22 yards. I was spellbound, as any fan would be. But there were no nerves while bowling, and he did tell me, ‘Aur mehnaat karna’.

I was indeed in a daze.

In a year, I was already playing for India in a Test match with Sachin Tendulkar as my teammate. But our friendship grew deeper after my breakthrough series against Australia in 2001. There were two things that I remember after the Kolkata hat-trick. First, Paaji came up to me and said: ‘Bol Bhajji kya chahiye tujhe (Tell me, Bhajji, what do you want?)’ I hesitantly said, ‘Paaji, I love your Adidas bowling spikes. Can you get me a pair?’ Sachin laughed and said, ‘Bas itni si baat (That’s it. That’s all you want?)?’ Within a week, an Adidas representative came with a couple of expensive bowling spikes, which I used for the next three years.

The other thing was more important in the context of my development. After the Chennai Test against Australia, which we won and clinched the series, Sachin, I remember, pulled a chair and sat beside me long after the Test got over. ‘Bhajju, have you seen a racehorse? It doesn’t look sideways. It doesn’t have peripheral vision. It looks straight, and eyes are transfixed on the target. You have to be that. You cannot be distracted by the stardom which you have attained now. You will have too many friends and well-wishers around you. You need to know who are your real friends and be careful whom you befriend,’ Sachin had told me back then.

The other thing I learnt was humility. The more Sachin achieved on the field, the more humble he became of it. But if you thought Sachin Tendulkar never got angry, think twice. Yours truly once got his rough end of the stick during a tour of Australia in 1999.

It was in one of the tour matches, and I played that game as I didn’t get a chance in the Test matches. I was stationed at the boundary, and a few pretty girls were sitting near the boundary. For a 20-year-old who had just started touring and was on his first trip to Australia, stealing a few furtive glances and exchanging smiles I thought were par for the course.

Now because of my inattentiveness, I was late in anticipating a few shots that came towards the boundary. But things got worse when I got caught busy ogling, and I didn’t hear Sachin shouting from mid-on, as he wanted a field change. Instead, before I realised it, he was standing beside me, visibly angry.

‘Bhajji, please know one thing. You have seen my good side, but if I want, I can be rude, and you wouldn’t like to see that side of me, you better concentrate.’ I wanted