I am told by my mother that as a very small child I used to detest cricket. I didn't allow my parents to watch matches, frequently creating a ruckus and forcing them to change to some channel telecasting some cartoons (which I'm not sure I understood). My mother sometimes still complains as to how she couldn't follow the 1996 and 1999 World Cups (her favourite cricketer being the Winning captain in 1999 and all that). But all that changed with the 2003 World Cup, the time I began watching cricket, the time I began falling in love with the game. And it was obviously at this time that I learnt the names of most cricketers (apart from the very popular Sachin Tendulkar, Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid). The sincerity with which I tried learning names of cricketers from all the nations that played in that World Cup (with players from Kenya and The Netherlands, that was quite a tough job) during my Third grade final exams, my parents now wanted me stop watching cricket. Different situations demand reactions, I learnt that then, but this is not the space for such philosophy.
It was the Super Six game against New Zealand, supposedly a very tough team to beat and also the side that had embarrassed the Indian team just before the World Cup had begun (my mother told me that before the match had begun), was when I first took notice of the left arm seamer named Zaheer Khan. McMillan departed second ball of the match, off the bowling of Zaheer. New Zealand were bowled out for within 150 and at the end of the match Zaheer was announced Player of the Match, and another cricketer's name was etched permanently in the mind of a nine year old. Later the same month, on the fateful night of 23rd March 2003, when I was hoping and praying that we beat those all conquering Aussies, the same Zaheer Khan leaked 15 runs of the first over, 67 runs in the seven overs he bowled.But as we began chasing the huge target and the batsmen that had performed throughout the tournament began falling apart one by one, one little man still continued bludgeoning the bowlers. This little man was not Sachin, but it was his opening partner Sehwag. And when he departed run out, all hopes of winning the World Cup had died and the tears had begun the initial stages of formation.
India toured Australia end of that year, and I'd already become a full fledged cricket fan, and this was a mouth watering contest. Ganguly scored a century at Brisbane, but then before that Zaheer had picked up a five wicket haul. Dravid outplayed every other cricketer on the field at Adelaide, but at end of the match I was intrigued by the fact that Sehwag had scored exactly the same number of runs in both the innings, 47. We lost the match at Melbourne, bowled out for 366 in the first innings, Sehwag had scored 195 of them, dismissed trying to send the ball sailing over the fence. One of the commentators proclaimed "Commanding and Dominant display of batting by Sehwag!" Cricket was also helping me learn the English language better.
Test Cricket was always about batsmen taking it slow, letting the good deliveries pass by, punishing the bad ones, but here was a batsman who didn't play test cricket anything like that. Someone who played by his own terms. Australian stalwart Adam Gilchrist is credited as the Man who revolutionised the role of Keeper-Batsman. Sehwag was the man who revolutionised the role of Test opener. Amongst all the calmness and pure technique, his stroke of madness was beautiful. Who else would have the courage to bring up the country's first triple hundred with a six, the sheer audacity. But that was not the only way he knew how to bat. The same Sehwag who scored 284 runs in a single day of a Test Match scored 151 in a display of uncharacteristic slow batting in testing conditions at Adelaide, to save the match.
When Sehwag was making scoring big centuries a habit, Zaheer had to regularly work hard to maintain his place in the side whenever he returned from injuries (and that happened quite often). After bursting into the cricketing scene as young, fiery pace bowler with deadly, toe-crunching yorkers, he had to settle down with lower pace due to age catching up with him and injuries taking toll on his body. But that obviously wouldn't deter a champion like Zaheer. Using all his experience, his variations, he became the bowling spearhead that the Indian side badly needed. Batsmen found runs hard to come by off his bowling, wickets fell regularly, and Zaheer especially loved bowling to Southpaws. Ask Graeme Smith and he'll have a word or two tell about that.
Memories of Zaheer troubling the English batsmen during India's tour of England in 2007 are still fresh in my mind. But that might also be because that whole test series is still fresh in my memory. How can I forget a test series in which the only Indian to score a century was Anil Kumble.
The greatest feather in Zaheer's cap would be the 2011 World Cup. From turning around the match against England at Bangalore with those reverse swinging yorkers till ending up as the highest wicket taker of the tournament, Zaheer proved to be a World class performer in that World Cup. But when he came on to bowl the first over of the final, it gave me jitters. Memories of the 2003 World Cup final were still at the back of my head, and surely at the back of Zaheer's. When Zaheer had finished his first spell his figures read 5 overs, 3 maidens, 6 runs, 1 wicket. Zaheer had grown, I sighed in relief.
Today as I watch tributes to these two cricketers as they've announced their retirements, as old team mates shower praises on them, as new channels and news papers talk of all their achievements, there is one thing I've realised. Of all those names I tried learning as a 9 year old kid, a very negligible number still remain, either fighting on the fringes, or completely sidelined, or playing second fiddle to some younger cricketer.
Amidst the struggle to complete my degree and find a suitable job, when I hear about the retirements of these cricketers, I realise that my childhood is all but over.
Thank You Sehwag and Zaheer, for providing an integral contribution towards making my childhood awesome. So long!
-Subramaniam Nagaraj
It was the Super Six game against New Zealand, supposedly a very tough team to beat and also the side that had embarrassed the Indian team just before the World Cup had begun (my mother told me that before the match had begun), was when I first took notice of the left arm seamer named Zaheer Khan. McMillan departed second ball of the match, off the bowling of Zaheer. New Zealand were bowled out for within 150 and at the end of the match Zaheer was announced Player of the Match, and another cricketer's name was etched permanently in the mind of a nine year old. Later the same month, on the fateful night of 23rd March 2003, when I was hoping and praying that we beat those all conquering Aussies, the same Zaheer Khan leaked 15 runs of the first over, 67 runs in the seven overs he bowled.But as we began chasing the huge target and the batsmen that had performed throughout the tournament began falling apart one by one, one little man still continued bludgeoning the bowlers. This little man was not Sachin, but it was his opening partner Sehwag. And when he departed run out, all hopes of winning the World Cup had died and the tears had begun the initial stages of formation.
These two continued creating memories, either in the form of their performances in live matches or the highlights of matches that were played during days before my tryst with cricket had begun.
India toured Australia end of that year, and I'd already become a full fledged cricket fan, and this was a mouth watering contest. Ganguly scored a century at Brisbane, but then before that Zaheer had picked up a five wicket haul. Dravid outplayed every other cricketer on the field at Adelaide, but at end of the match I was intrigued by the fact that Sehwag had scored exactly the same number of runs in both the innings, 47. We lost the match at Melbourne, bowled out for 366 in the first innings, Sehwag had scored 195 of them, dismissed trying to send the ball sailing over the fence. One of the commentators proclaimed "Commanding and Dominant display of batting by Sehwag!" Cricket was also helping me learn the English language better.
Test Cricket was always about batsmen taking it slow, letting the good deliveries pass by, punishing the bad ones, but here was a batsman who didn't play test cricket anything like that. Someone who played by his own terms. Australian stalwart Adam Gilchrist is credited as the Man who revolutionised the role of Keeper-Batsman. Sehwag was the man who revolutionised the role of Test opener. Amongst all the calmness and pure technique, his stroke of madness was beautiful. Who else would have the courage to bring up the country's first triple hundred with a six, the sheer audacity. But that was not the only way he knew how to bat. The same Sehwag who scored 284 runs in a single day of a Test Match scored 151 in a display of uncharacteristic slow batting in testing conditions at Adelaide, to save the match.
When Sehwag was making scoring big centuries a habit, Zaheer had to regularly work hard to maintain his place in the side whenever he returned from injuries (and that happened quite often). After bursting into the cricketing scene as young, fiery pace bowler with deadly, toe-crunching yorkers, he had to settle down with lower pace due to age catching up with him and injuries taking toll on his body. But that obviously wouldn't deter a champion like Zaheer. Using all his experience, his variations, he became the bowling spearhead that the Indian side badly needed. Batsmen found runs hard to come by off his bowling, wickets fell regularly, and Zaheer especially loved bowling to Southpaws. Ask Graeme Smith and he'll have a word or two tell about that.
Memories of Zaheer troubling the English batsmen during India's tour of England in 2007 are still fresh in my mind. But that might also be because that whole test series is still fresh in my memory. How can I forget a test series in which the only Indian to score a century was Anil Kumble.
The greatest feather in Zaheer's cap would be the 2011 World Cup. From turning around the match against England at Bangalore with those reverse swinging yorkers till ending up as the highest wicket taker of the tournament, Zaheer proved to be a World class performer in that World Cup. But when he came on to bowl the first over of the final, it gave me jitters. Memories of the 2003 World Cup final were still at the back of my head, and surely at the back of Zaheer's. When Zaheer had finished his first spell his figures read 5 overs, 3 maidens, 6 runs, 1 wicket. Zaheer had grown, I sighed in relief.
Today as I watch tributes to these two cricketers as they've announced their retirements, as old team mates shower praises on them, as new channels and news papers talk of all their achievements, there is one thing I've realised. Of all those names I tried learning as a 9 year old kid, a very negligible number still remain, either fighting on the fringes, or completely sidelined, or playing second fiddle to some younger cricketer.
Amidst the struggle to complete my degree and find a suitable job, when I hear about the retirements of these cricketers, I realise that my childhood is all but over.
Thank You Sehwag and Zaheer, for providing an integral contribution towards making my childhood awesome. So long!
-Subramaniam Nagaraj
