Sachin , you are my hero...! (Letter from fan's heart)
Master Sachin,
This isn't gonna be easy. I am running out of adjectives. I am just a submicroscopic speck in front of you. But I will try. One word at a time.
People call you God. NO. You are much greater than that. God doesn't make me so happy as you did. God never entertained me nor inspired generations. God was never criticized for what he did. In essence you're the hero India deserves, but not the one it needs right now. You're a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a dark knight!
For sheer apotheosis, I just can't imagine a cricketer beyond you. As long as my life spans, you remain the the-cricketer-who-tends-to-infinity, the one glimmering constant through all these years. You started smashing the ball around the time I was born, and have continued smashing it through my primary school, high school, higher secondary school, college and a year beyond that. The Time magazine sums
it up as: "When Sachin Tendulkar travelled to Pakistan to face one of the finest bowling attacks ever assembled in cricket, Michael Schumacher was yet to race a F1 car, Lance Armstrong had never been to the Tour de France, Diego Maradona was still the captain of a world champion Argentina team, Pete Sampras had never won a Grand Slam.
When Tendulkar embarked on a glorious career taming Imran and company, Roger Federer was a name unheard of; Lionel Messi was in his nappies, Usain Bolt was an unknown kid in the Jamaican backwaters. The Berlin Wall was still intact, USSR was one big, big country, Dr Manmohan Singh was yet to "open" the Nehruvian economy.
It seems while Time was having his toll on every individual on the face of this planet, he excused one man. Time stands frozen in front of Sachin Tendulkar. We have had champions, we have had legends, but we have never had another Sachin Tendulkar and we never will. "
When you were in 90's, the world would literally freeze. “Nobody moves until Sachin finishes his hundred”, people often said or "On a train from Shimla to Delhi, there was a halt in one of the stations. The train stopped by for few minutes as usual. Sachin was nearing century, batting on 98. The passengers, railway officials, everyone on the train waited for Sachin to complete the century. This Genius can stop time in India!!" as Peter Roebuck puts it.
What else will I miss? Yup. That number 10 T Shirt immaculately tucked on you. I'll never forget the way you chased the ball to the boundary line, as if you were competing a 100m race with Bolt and that return throw so accurate and fast. I'll never forget the adroitness with which you studied the pitch just before the innings began, just like a geophysicist, brushing the surface with your palms, studying the particles of sand, measuring the direction of the wind. Watching your innings is incomplete without watching these minute details: Those clever leaves, those crouches, and hooks of the bouncers, attention always on the ball, that titanium focus, that tidy leg glance, that handsome straight drive, that raising of the bat and looking at your father, that maturity, more maturity, still more maturity and even more maturity.
There's no fun in watching your innings without all these. The innings against Aussies in Sharjah that gave nightmares to Warne, the Baap-baap-hota-hai-beta-beta-hota-hai and “uper cut” match vs Pakistan in Centurian, that glorious inning in Sydney in the CB series,The highlights of these matches, they don't portray your pain, suffering, struggle under pressure and expectations and fearsome opening bowlers, dexterous shift between attack and defense, maturity in building foundation of the innings, virtuosity at finding gaps cutting through the tension and leading the innings forward, inventing the seemingly impossible strokes, and what not. The only way one can understand this art is by seeing you play all through the match, by watching your pain. No drug can induce this, no tech can simulate this.
It's sad that you're leaving the ODIs and leave cricket half dead. But it's also a good thing that I was fortunate to be able to watch you bat. As for the memories, you have left a universe full of them.
This isn't gonna be easy. I am running out of adjectives. I am just a submicroscopic speck in front of you. But I will try. One word at a time.
People call you God. NO. You are much greater than that. God doesn't make me so happy as you did. God never entertained me nor inspired generations. God was never criticized for what he did. In essence you're the hero India deserves, but not the one it needs right now. You're a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a dark knight!
For sheer apotheosis, I just can't imagine a cricketer beyond you. As long as my life spans, you remain the the-cricketer-who-tends-to-infinity, the one glimmering constant through all these years. You started smashing the ball around the time I was born, and have continued smashing it through my primary school, high school, higher secondary school, college and a year beyond that. The Time magazine sums
it up as: "When Sachin Tendulkar travelled to Pakistan to face one of the finest bowling attacks ever assembled in cricket, Michael Schumacher was yet to race a F1 car, Lance Armstrong had never been to the Tour de France, Diego Maradona was still the captain of a world champion Argentina team, Pete Sampras had never won a Grand Slam.
When Tendulkar embarked on a glorious career taming Imran and company, Roger Federer was a name unheard of; Lionel Messi was in his nappies, Usain Bolt was an unknown kid in the Jamaican backwaters. The Berlin Wall was still intact, USSR was one big, big country, Dr Manmohan Singh was yet to "open" the Nehruvian economy.
It seems while Time was having his toll on every individual on the face of this planet, he excused one man. Time stands frozen in front of Sachin Tendulkar. We have had champions, we have had legends, but we have never had another Sachin Tendulkar and we never will. "
When you were in 90's, the world would literally freeze. “Nobody moves until Sachin finishes his hundred”, people often said or "On a train from Shimla to Delhi, there was a halt in one of the stations. The train stopped by for few minutes as usual. Sachin was nearing century, batting on 98. The passengers, railway officials, everyone on the train waited for Sachin to complete the century. This Genius can stop time in India!!" as Peter Roebuck puts it.
What else will I miss? Yup. That number 10 T Shirt immaculately tucked on you. I'll never forget the way you chased the ball to the boundary line, as if you were competing a 100m race with Bolt and that return throw so accurate and fast. I'll never forget the adroitness with which you studied the pitch just before the innings began, just like a geophysicist, brushing the surface with your palms, studying the particles of sand, measuring the direction of the wind. Watching your innings is incomplete without watching these minute details: Those clever leaves, those crouches, and hooks of the bouncers, attention always on the ball, that titanium focus, that tidy leg glance, that handsome straight drive, that raising of the bat and looking at your father, that maturity, more maturity, still more maturity and even more maturity.
There's no fun in watching your innings without all these. The innings against Aussies in Sharjah that gave nightmares to Warne, the Baap-baap-hota-hai-beta-beta-hota-hai and “uper cut” match vs Pakistan in Centurian, that glorious inning in Sydney in the CB series,The highlights of these matches, they don't portray your pain, suffering, struggle under pressure and expectations and fearsome opening bowlers, dexterous shift between attack and defense, maturity in building foundation of the innings, virtuosity at finding gaps cutting through the tension and leading the innings forward, inventing the seemingly impossible strokes, and what not. The only way one can understand this art is by seeing you play all through the match, by watching your pain. No drug can induce this, no tech can simulate this.
It's sad that you're leaving the ODIs and leave cricket half dead. But it's also a good thing that I was fortunate to be able to watch you bat. As for the memories, you have left a universe full of them.
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