In a wide-ranging, insightful speech at the Pataudi Memorial Lecture the day before the India v West Indies Mumbai Test, Anil Kumble said Sachin Tendulkar had been, "all things to all men".
To the cricketing world, Tendulkar was a batsman for the ages. In 2010, when he made the ESPNcricinfo all-time World XI, Tendulkar said, "It would have been great to walk out with Don Bradman" and to talk to Hobbs and Hutton "about what it was like to play on uncovered wickets".
They would no doubt have a few questions for him too; about the creative dexterity of his strokeplay, the weight of his bat, the data-analysis business, and how on earth he handled the attention. This modern wire-walker with over three generations of team-mates, straddling two millennia and two formats, would have tried to explain how classical fundamentals could always fashion a contemporary response to an ever-changing game.
Balance, they would all nod in agreement, it's all about balance.
To Indians, young and old, inside and outside the geographical boundaries of the nation, Tendulkar offered a new vocabulary to India's batting template and did so with an old-fashioned Indianness that has never left him. When first sighted, his batting went against the grain; it was like crazy street-racing - top-down, foot-on-floor, high volume. The spectators shrieked, but importantly, Tendulkar didn't. He heard their chanting but it didn't make his head spin.
In his speech, Kumble, a team-mate, a friend, and his ultimate go-to man, also pointed out that the "median age of the country is roughly the number of years Sachin has been playing first-class cricket". He was referring to the average age of the Indian population, which is just over 26.
Tendulkar grew to stature at a time when India was an untrendy corner of the planet, its "markets" not yet sought after by global corporations. In an environment of almost reflexive national self-doubt, he stuck the tricolour on to his helmet and went out to bat, destroying bowling attacks in his first decade in the game even as the rest of the team floundered around him. This whirligig of image, memory and possibility turned Tendulkar into a Pied Piper figure for Indian cricket. One generation after another followed him, gathering around "open skies" TV screens, or being pulled into grounds whenever the team travelled. It is they who started the chant that never stopped.
A career of adulation and a lamentation upon his retirement was to be expected amongst hardcore Tendulkar fans. On his final day in the game, like the Creed song, Tendulkar laid out a lifetime of gratitude. "With arms wide open / under the sunlight / welcome to this place / I'll show you everything."
To the cricketing world, Tendulkar was a batsman for the ages. In 2010, when he made the ESPNcricinfo all-time World XI, Tendulkar said, "It would have been great to walk out with Don Bradman" and to talk to Hobbs and Hutton "about what it was like to play on uncovered wickets".
They would no doubt have a few questions for him too; about the creative dexterity of his strokeplay, the weight of his bat, the data-analysis business, and how on earth he handled the attention. This modern wire-walker with over three generations of team-mates, straddling two millennia and two formats, would have tried to explain how classical fundamentals could always fashion a contemporary response to an ever-changing game.
Balance, they would all nod in agreement, it's all about balance.
To Indians, young and old, inside and outside the geographical boundaries of the nation, Tendulkar offered a new vocabulary to India's batting template and did so with an old-fashioned Indianness that has never left him. When first sighted, his batting went against the grain; it was like crazy street-racing - top-down, foot-on-floor, high volume. The spectators shrieked, but importantly, Tendulkar didn't. He heard their chanting but it didn't make his head spin.
In his speech, Kumble, a team-mate, a friend, and his ultimate go-to man, also pointed out that the "median age of the country is roughly the number of years Sachin has been playing first-class cricket". He was referring to the average age of the Indian population, which is just over 26.
Tendulkar grew to stature at a time when India was an untrendy corner of the planet, its "markets" not yet sought after by global corporations. In an environment of almost reflexive national self-doubt, he stuck the tricolour on to his helmet and went out to bat, destroying bowling attacks in his first decade in the game even as the rest of the team floundered around him. This whirligig of image, memory and possibility turned Tendulkar into a Pied Piper figure for Indian cricket. One generation after another followed him, gathering around "open skies" TV screens, or being pulled into grounds whenever the team travelled. It is they who started the chant that never stopped.
A career of adulation and a lamentation upon his retirement was to be expected amongst hardcore Tendulkar fans. On his final day in the game, like the Creed song, Tendulkar laid out a lifetime of gratitude. "With arms wide open / under the sunlight / welcome to this place / I'll show you everything."
