No man might have ever played tennis the way Roger Federer does. The Swiss master constantly stretches the limits of the possible, exploring new vistas in his own luminous soul. His great matches are not athletic contests; they are timeless compositions. This is why Federer is a greater athlete than Tiger Woods, the man who might end up as the greatest golfer of all time, writes Nirmal Shekar.
The very best of sport is not sport at all; for, it is only when sport breaks its often well-defined boundaries and ventures into alien territory and becomes a sort of super-sport that it is at its very best.
This is precisely why when you experience some of the greatest sporting moments, you don't often think of them as moments of mere athletic excellence but something way beyond that.
It first happened to me in July 1984. I was floating, although I couldn't have described the feeling in any clear terms at that time, a time when `I' and `Me' were lost, pushed back to the recesses of consciousness, a time when experience itself was dominated by a glorious new unity, magically encompassing everything — the experience and the experiencer, the performer and the performance, the stage and the setting, on a balmy summer afternoon at the All England Lawn Tennis Club in Wimbledon.
John McEnroe was playing Jimmy Connors in the final of the men's championship. That, of course, was the external reality. For, internal experience told you something else. Old Johnny Mac wasn't playing anybody; for this wasn't a match as much as it was an inspired composition with a tormented genius in communion with the truly life-enhancing creative depths of his soul.
Then, it happened to me again 15 years on, at the same place, also in early July. Pete Sampras was playing Andre Agassi in the final in 1999 and from midway in the first set to early in the third, the great man "walked on water'' as his opponent would concede.
The last time I experienced this almost indescribable feeling was quite recently, at the Australian Open last month, on a Thursday evening indoors at the Rod Laver Arena. It was an evening when Roger Federer, His Royal Lightness, danced a celestial dance on air while playing Andy Roddick in the semifinals.
"You feel like he is barely touching the ground. That's the sign of a great champion," said Rod Laver, a man who knows a thing or two about greatness, having swept the Slams in 1962 and 1969, a feat that may be beyond even the Swiss maestro.
All great athletic performers, when in flow, when they are in the zone, may come close to producing in the spectators/viewers such an exalted experience. But, few actually manage to elevate their act to a reality-altering experience as did McEnroe in 1984, Sampras in 1999 and Federer a few weeks ago.
Of course, such soul-lifting masterpieces are not limited to tennis. I remember a tournament in Sharjah in the late 1990s when Sachin Tendulkar turned a desert into a blooming paradise, so to say, playing innings after innings of such breathtaking beauty.
So, indeed, have a few other great sportspersons, not the least the enigmatic Diego Maradona in Mexico in 1986, Tiger Woods at the Augusta Masters and at the British Open, the gymnast Nadia Comaneci in the Montreal Olympics, Steffi Graf at the French Open in 1988... well, you could go on and on.
Yet, the question is this: has any athlete touched this almost otherworldly high as often as Federer does these days on the tennis circuit? Has anyone ever `walked on water' not so much as a once-in-a-lifetime, near superhuman effort but almost as a matter of habit, as does the Swiss master?
Over the last few months, there has been a lot of talk in the world of sport comparing Federer with Woods, sizing up two young men treading unique paths to surpassing greatness. Not surprisingly, both the Swiss and the American are keenly aware of where they are headed, possessed as they are of a rich sense of history. They have even met a few times, exchanged notes, patted each other on the back and remain good friends.
While Federer won his 10th Grand Slam title in Melbourne, Woods stretched his unbeaten run on the PGA Tour to seven tournaments, something no man has done in 62 years. While Federer, aged 25, is well on his way to beating Pete Sampras's record of 14 Grand Slam titles, Woods, aged 31, is six short of Jack Nicklaus's 18.
Given their respective ages and the quality of opposition in their sports, both men can be backed to set a new benchmark.
Woods, perhaps, has a little more time than Federer, given that golf can be played and mastered at the highest levels a lot longer — Jack Nicklaus won the last of his majors, at Augusta, in 1986 when he was 46 years old — but Federer has fewer challengers pushing him than Woods.
"The only thing going for me is that I have longevity in my corner,'' Woods said recently.
But, then, Federer is so dominant in men's tennis that he may not take long to win another five Grand Slam titles, which is what he needs to leave Sampras behind.
Sampras himself has acknowledged this. "I don't see anyone pushing him, so I could see him winning 17, 18, 19 majors. He has 10 already and he is in the middle of his career. He just came along at the right time and is playing tremendous tennis and I don't see him stopping now,'' said the seven-time Wimbledon champion.
Federer is so far away from the rest that, as a competitive sport, men's tennis has become a bit of a joke except on clay where Rafael Nadal has so far dominated the Swiss great.
In ranking points, Federer (8120) is 3345 ahead of Nadal, ranked No. 2. If you took away that many points from what Nadal has (4775), you get as far down as No. 17! What is more, Federer's record against his Top Ten rivals is incredible. Nikolay Davydenko is ranked No. 3. Federer is 8-0 against him. Only Nadal has a superior record against Federer (6-3), although it is significant to note that the world champion has beaten the Spaniard the last two times they have met (Wimbledon, Shanghai Masters) and the trend may well have reversed already.
Against Andy Roddick, Federer is 13-1, against James Blake he is 6-0 and against Fernando Gonzalez, whom he beat in the Australian Open final, the world No. 1 is 10-0.
Playing a sport that is a lot different from tennis, Woods may not have run up such impressive statistics. But the gifted American is almost as dominant as Federer is, although he did miss the cut at the U.S. Open last year — the equivalent of Federer losing before the quarterfinals of a Grand Slam, something that has not happened since May 2004.
This apart, Woods has had to do business in vastly different conditions from week to week. Given that golf courses can be very different from one another, and given the influence that weather conditions can have on play, Woods certainly has a harder job, although tennis too is played on different surfaces and the wind and the heat can be more than minor influences during matches.
Where Woods is ahead of Federer is in his sweep of the four majors — the Tiger Slam — a feat he accomplished in 2000-01. While the American has won every one of the four majors in golf — the Augusta Masters, the British Open, the U.S. Open and the PGA championship — at least twice, Federer is yet to win the French Open, where he was beaten in the final by Nadal last year.
But, after watching Federer's progress over the last six or seven months — a period during which he has lost just one match, to Britain's up-and-coming Andrew Murray — I believe that Federer has turned a corner. He has a better chance of winning the French Open — and beating Nadal on clay — this season than he did ever before in the past. His confidence has, predictably, reached stratospheric levels, and Nadal has not come close to beating him since the French final.
"I think he can (win the French Open) because he grew up playing on clay and he's come close the last two years,'' said Sampras during a recent teleconference to announce his return to the game, playing a few events on a tour for over-30 players. "I really believe he can win there.''
If Federer does win the French, it would be a major step towards the pinnacle after being celebrated by Laver himself as the greatest to ever wield a tennis racquet.
"That (winning the French) would be a dream come true,'' said Federer, a day after taking his 10th Grand Slam title in Melbourne.
But, to me, these — the French title, the number of Slams, weeks at No. 1 — are minor details when it comes to Federer. What matters to me is not how many titles he wins, or how often he wins, but merely how he wins matches. I spent a whole match at Melbourne recently watching his feet alone, not his racquet, not his opponent. It turned out to be a marvellous lesson. The man does dance on air, or at least he gives you the impression that he does, so light of foot he is.
If it is rather pointless and plainly illogical to compare athletes across eras, then it is even more absurd to compare athletes from different sports based on their records alone. After all, Woods hits a stationary ball and Federer one that moves, a distinction that is hugely significant. Yet, the temptation is irresistible, and even professional athletes cannot seem to resist it.
"It's a joke if you think Tiger's better than Federer,'' the Havard-educated James Blake was quoted as saying in the tennis website www.insidetennis.com recently. "Not to take anything away from Tiger because he is an unbelievable golfer, I'd make a case for Roger being the best athlete of our time — not tennis player — athlete.''
This, of course, is a case that has a lot of merit. For, no man might have ever played tennis the way Federer does. The Swiss master constantly stretches the limits of the possible, exploring new vistas in his own luminous soul. His great matches are not athletic contests; they are timeless compositions.
"You know what?'' an old friend and long-time tennis fan said — on telephone from Mumbai — the morning after the Federer masterclass that ended in a humiliating defeat for Roddick in Melbourne. "Roger is not sport, watching him is a spiritual experience.''
Although I am a well grounded naturalist and materialist, I told him he was right. I could understand why my friend should have felt the way he did. That is precisely why we human beings experience the best of music and art quite often as a sort of spiritual experience. It's a myth. But it doesn't hurt, does it?
Few will say this of Woods. We are often in awe of the great golfer, like an earlier generation of sports fans were in awe of Don Bradman. But Mozart and Van Gogh don't come to mind readily while watching Woods on the fairways and greens.
They do when Roger Federer dances his celestial dance on air.
* * *
SO THEY SAID
On Roger Federer
Oh, I would be honoured to even be compared to Roger. He is such an unbelievable talent, and is capable of anything. Roger could be the greatest tennis player of all time. It's hardly fair that one person can do all this — his backhands, his forehands, volleys, serving, his court position ... the way he moves around the court. I think the art of Roger is probably the best I've ever seen.
— Rod Laver
He's the most gifted player that I've ever seen in my life. I've seen a lot of people play. I've seen the (Rod) Lavers, I played against some of the great players — the Samprases, Beckers, Connors, Borgs, you name it. This guy could be the greatest of all time. That, to me, says it all.
— John McEnroe
We have a guy from Switzerland who is just playing the game in a way I haven't seen anyone — and I mean anyone — play before. How fortunate we are to be able to see that. If he stays healthy and motivated — and the wonderful feel he has stays with him — he is the kind of guy who can overtake the greatest.
— Boris Becker
On Tiger Woods
There isn't a flaw in his golf or his makeup. He will win more majors than Arnold Palmer and me combined. Somebody is going to dust my records. It might as well be Tiger, because he's such a great kid. He has the finest, fundamentally sound golf swing I've ever seen.
— Jack Nicklaus
At the end of the day, is Tiger better than Jack, or is Jack better than Tiger? We won't know until it's all over and done with. But with the numbers he's putting up now, you have to give him (Woods) the edge.
— Greg Norman
The most impressive player that I have seen to this date, at this stage of his game, and without question with the most potential that I have ever seen — his mannerisms, his maturity, his basic fundamentals and approach to the game is Tiger Woods. He is the soundest young player that I have ever seen. The only guy I can think about that would have been close to that in youth and ability was Nicklaus. We played the other day and even Jack agreed that he didn't have the poise and the stature that Woods has right now.
— Arnold Palmer
Friday, April 20, 2007
Greg vs The Guys: a tragicomedy
Another one by Nirmal . I am huge fan of his writing and still wonder why the man doesnt get as much adoration as he richly deserves. A gem of a writer and that still remains an understatement ......
Forget the World Cup in the Caribbean. Forget, too, the evergreen Sanath Jayasuriya's marvellous heroics with the bat and the ball. Pay no attention to the celebration of the great Glenn McGrath's final hurrah. Say goodbye to Guyana and Antigua and quickly turn your attention to our own Mumbai, a teeming city where nine-tenths of life is an argument.
For, Indian cricket's intriguing, never-ending game within the game has begun once again. And the stirring, unmissable climactic scenes of the Blame Game are scheduled to be enacted in India's commercial capital on Friday and Saturday.
Nothing validates Friedrich Nietzsche's idea of Eternal Recurrence as convincingly as do the crises in Indian cricket.
In the context of the nation's sporting religion, the more things change the more they remain the same. "Life is but a dream whose shapes return," wrote T.S. Eliot in The Waste Land. Substitute `nightmare' for dream and you might get an idea of what it is like in Indian cricket.
But then, who cares in what shapes these nightmares return? After all, it is another round of riveting entertainment for a cricketing public still mourning the premature departure of Rahul Dravid's men from the World Cup.
Washing dirty linen
A complaisant audience will be treated to the latest episode of the long-running let's-smear-each-other-in-public tragicomedy. And this will be screened at convenient times, during daylight and early evening hours — you don't have to keep awake through the night to watch the drama and then land up slightly disoriented and bleary eyed at work the next day. Of course, we must thank Indian cricket for such small mercies.
One must admit that the sneak previews have been awe-inspiring. If they are anything to go by, we can look forward to seat-edge thrills on Friday and Saturday.
Then again, for all the seeming sameness, there is indeed a touch of variety these days. In the old days, the villains used to be men living across the border from us.
These days, the bad guys happen to carry Australian passports. Or, are they Indian passports? Are the bad guys home-grown ones? We are not even sure at this point. Not bad at all _ cricket is certainly doing better than Bollywood and Kollywood movies when it comes to plotlines.
So, welcome, then, to Greg versus The Guys, senior guys I might add. Forget a possible Australia-South Africa face-off on April 28. This — what is going to be played in Mumbai — is the mother of all finals.
And now, to the big question: who is right and who is wrong? Who are the heroes and who are the villains? It is no surprise, of course, that all these questions come up only when the team fails — which, these days, is often enough.
Collective failure
But the truth is, it is a collective failure — collective not merely in the sense of the coach and the players put together but in a sense that encompasses everything, even things that go beyond the sport in question.
For, it is a systemic malady. Poorly engineered leaky systems will always throw up situations in which such nightmarish scenarios arise time and again.
In a stimulating book The Lucifer Effect: How Good People Turn Evil, Philip Zimbardo, Professor Emeritus of Psychology at Stanford University, comes up with the argument that evil is not only about those who appear to cause it but, more importantly, it is about the situations and systems that let it flourish.
As much is true of all the stink in Indian cricket. For, it is not merely about individuals, their behaviour and attitudes; it is about the overall system that makes room for such behaviour and attitudes.
Surely, we can point a finger at Greg Chappell and say that the Aussie coach never thought it a virtue to keep his mouth shut, especially in the company of men and women whose job it is to make public such pearls of wisdom as may have been on offer.
After all, over the last two years, Greg Chappell-interviews have been as much a staple in newspapers and television channels as are weather reports. But the problem does go beyond Chappell's loquaciousness.
Surely, we can point a finger at some senior players for wanting to `own' their places in the Indian team, for living on past glory and believing that their celebrity alone would help them stay in the side forever. But, again, the problem goes beyond such selfish attitudes.
Clearer vision
To get to the root of the problem needs not only perseverance but also the willingness to cast away the old foggy spectacles through which we have come to view Indian cricket and its crises. It calls for vision in a business where visionaries are in short supply.
It is because of this, it is because a massive system-overhaul — something that shakes up the greedy, complacent and largely inefficient administration for a start — does not seem likely that I believe whatever comes out of the BCCI meetings on Friday and Saturday will make no big difference to the long term health of Indian cricket.
And life — and cricket — will go on as ever in this country. For, this is one product that has never witnessed any consumer resistance in India. Whatever the quality, tens of millions are ready to lap it all up.
Forget the World Cup in the Caribbean. Forget, too, the evergreen Sanath Jayasuriya's marvellous heroics with the bat and the ball. Pay no attention to the celebration of the great Glenn McGrath's final hurrah. Say goodbye to Guyana and Antigua and quickly turn your attention to our own Mumbai, a teeming city where nine-tenths of life is an argument.
For, Indian cricket's intriguing, never-ending game within the game has begun once again. And the stirring, unmissable climactic scenes of the Blame Game are scheduled to be enacted in India's commercial capital on Friday and Saturday.
Nothing validates Friedrich Nietzsche's idea of Eternal Recurrence as convincingly as do the crises in Indian cricket.
In the context of the nation's sporting religion, the more things change the more they remain the same. "Life is but a dream whose shapes return," wrote T.S. Eliot in The Waste Land. Substitute `nightmare' for dream and you might get an idea of what it is like in Indian cricket.
But then, who cares in what shapes these nightmares return? After all, it is another round of riveting entertainment for a cricketing public still mourning the premature departure of Rahul Dravid's men from the World Cup.
Washing dirty linen
A complaisant audience will be treated to the latest episode of the long-running let's-smear-each-other-in-public tragicomedy. And this will be screened at convenient times, during daylight and early evening hours — you don't have to keep awake through the night to watch the drama and then land up slightly disoriented and bleary eyed at work the next day. Of course, we must thank Indian cricket for such small mercies.
One must admit that the sneak previews have been awe-inspiring. If they are anything to go by, we can look forward to seat-edge thrills on Friday and Saturday.
Then again, for all the seeming sameness, there is indeed a touch of variety these days. In the old days, the villains used to be men living across the border from us.
These days, the bad guys happen to carry Australian passports. Or, are they Indian passports? Are the bad guys home-grown ones? We are not even sure at this point. Not bad at all _ cricket is certainly doing better than Bollywood and Kollywood movies when it comes to plotlines.
So, welcome, then, to Greg versus The Guys, senior guys I might add. Forget a possible Australia-South Africa face-off on April 28. This — what is going to be played in Mumbai — is the mother of all finals.
And now, to the big question: who is right and who is wrong? Who are the heroes and who are the villains? It is no surprise, of course, that all these questions come up only when the team fails — which, these days, is often enough.
Collective failure
But the truth is, it is a collective failure — collective not merely in the sense of the coach and the players put together but in a sense that encompasses everything, even things that go beyond the sport in question.
For, it is a systemic malady. Poorly engineered leaky systems will always throw up situations in which such nightmarish scenarios arise time and again.
In a stimulating book The Lucifer Effect: How Good People Turn Evil, Philip Zimbardo, Professor Emeritus of Psychology at Stanford University, comes up with the argument that evil is not only about those who appear to cause it but, more importantly, it is about the situations and systems that let it flourish.
As much is true of all the stink in Indian cricket. For, it is not merely about individuals, their behaviour and attitudes; it is about the overall system that makes room for such behaviour and attitudes.
Surely, we can point a finger at Greg Chappell and say that the Aussie coach never thought it a virtue to keep his mouth shut, especially in the company of men and women whose job it is to make public such pearls of wisdom as may have been on offer.
After all, over the last two years, Greg Chappell-interviews have been as much a staple in newspapers and television channels as are weather reports. But the problem does go beyond Chappell's loquaciousness.
Surely, we can point a finger at some senior players for wanting to `own' their places in the Indian team, for living on past glory and believing that their celebrity alone would help them stay in the side forever. But, again, the problem goes beyond such selfish attitudes.
Clearer vision
To get to the root of the problem needs not only perseverance but also the willingness to cast away the old foggy spectacles through which we have come to view Indian cricket and its crises. It calls for vision in a business where visionaries are in short supply.
It is because of this, it is because a massive system-overhaul — something that shakes up the greedy, complacent and largely inefficient administration for a start — does not seem likely that I believe whatever comes out of the BCCI meetings on Friday and Saturday will make no big difference to the long term health of Indian cricket.
And life — and cricket — will go on as ever in this country. For, this is one product that has never witnessed any consumer resistance in India. Whatever the quality, tens of millions are ready to lap it all up.
Trashing Tendulkar isn't cricket
One old article on Sachin Tendulkar by God of all writers on sport who else but Nirmal Sekhar.
All i can say is the man has made me smile whenever i got hold of an article by him . Savor the man and find him at his stupendeous best as ever........
MANY a connoisseur of cricket may have come to believe, on Sunday, that the unthinkable has happened when Sachin Tendulkar was booed all the way back to the pavilion at the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai by sections of the crowd. But, in truth, it was unimaginable only because we may have failed to scratch the surface of our fast-evolving cricketing culture, only because we have probably failed to see the fast-emerging darkness in the very soul of a once-great culture, which is dumbing down rather alarmingly.
Trashing Tendulkar for an uncharacteristic failure is much like attempting to dismantle the Taj because one of its walls has developed a minor crack over time. It is simply not done. And the shocking incident in Mumbai says more about where we — as a nation of cricket-obsessed people — are headed than about Tendulkar's own travails in the twilight of an unmatched career.
In the fullness of time, we will know whether the great man's nightmare-run with the bat is a temporary slump in form or, perhaps, the beginning of a much more serious career crisis. But, right now, this issue is less relevant than the fact that people who may have never had the good fortune to let their spirits soar to exalted levels with each Tendulkar symphony chose to greet his first innings departure with catcalls and booes to leave a scar on the not-so-pretty face of the game in India.
If the poignancy of that dark moment on Sunday afternoon went way beyond sport, then it was also a quick reminder that as sportslovers quite a few of us have now become ``here and now'' people in the worst possible connotation that term can take on.
For, if the ones that booed the little maestro had had the good sense to look beyond the man's momentary struggles at the crease to the grand monument he has left behind, his dismissal might have brought a sort of heaviness to their hearts and tied up their tongues in sheer disbelief.
Then again, for many sportslovers, that is precisely the problem today — they have lost the capacity to appreciate history, to look at the larger picture, to go beyond the most recent stimuli and understand events in a historical perspective.
Worshippers of instant celebrity
Many of us, thanks to the influences of the age in which we live, have become worshippers of instant celebrity. The non-stop dross coming at us from all directions has forced us to wilfully conclude that today's success is the greatest success ever achieved, that today's seat-edge thriller is the greatest game ever played, that today's superstar is the greatest megastar of all times.
When our sporting culture has suffered this sort of corruption, when its essential core has been eroded by these giant new waves, it is hardly surprising that a great icon such as Tendulkar should himself become a victim in his own backyard.
The point is, Tendulkar never promised any of us a masterly century in every innings that he might get to play. We were the ones who set that impossible goal for the little man. That he has failed to meet that unrealistic goal is no sheen off his greatness; it merely throws light on our own foolishness.
At no point in his remarkable career did Tendulkar tell us that he was immortal; we turned him into a sort of superhuman phenomenon — where none exists in the known world — because we were perhaps ashamed of our own all too human limitations and wanted someone not-quite-like-us to look up to.
Never in the last 16 years that he has been dominating our sporting consciousness has Tendulkar ever hinted that he was invincible; we turned him into an invincible champion because we felt the need to bolster our own sense of everyday reality with something supernatural.
Harsh reality
The harsh reality of the capricious business of sport is this: every champion that has ever drawn breath, every champion as yet unborn, can be sure of one thing — some day, he will fail. The world of sport is yet to toast a truly invincible athlete.
But, then, in dealing with Tendulkar's failure — or any issue of this sort — it is very easy to find the answer we want; much, much more difficult to find the answer that matches the truth.
Of course, as passionate followers of the game, we are entitled to our own opinions. If some of us believe that the great man may not deserve a place in the team if he continues to fail, that's fair enough. Nobody owns a place in the Indian cricket team — not even Tendulkar.
But what is not fair — and will never be — is to stoop down to the sort of mindless pettiness that triggered the Mumbai booing on Sunday.
All i can say is the man has made me smile whenever i got hold of an article by him . Savor the man and find him at his stupendeous best as ever........
MANY a connoisseur of cricket may have come to believe, on Sunday, that the unthinkable has happened when Sachin Tendulkar was booed all the way back to the pavilion at the Wankhede Stadium in Mumbai by sections of the crowd. But, in truth, it was unimaginable only because we may have failed to scratch the surface of our fast-evolving cricketing culture, only because we have probably failed to see the fast-emerging darkness in the very soul of a once-great culture, which is dumbing down rather alarmingly.
Trashing Tendulkar for an uncharacteristic failure is much like attempting to dismantle the Taj because one of its walls has developed a minor crack over time. It is simply not done. And the shocking incident in Mumbai says more about where we — as a nation of cricket-obsessed people — are headed than about Tendulkar's own travails in the twilight of an unmatched career.
In the fullness of time, we will know whether the great man's nightmare-run with the bat is a temporary slump in form or, perhaps, the beginning of a much more serious career crisis. But, right now, this issue is less relevant than the fact that people who may have never had the good fortune to let their spirits soar to exalted levels with each Tendulkar symphony chose to greet his first innings departure with catcalls and booes to leave a scar on the not-so-pretty face of the game in India.
If the poignancy of that dark moment on Sunday afternoon went way beyond sport, then it was also a quick reminder that as sportslovers quite a few of us have now become ``here and now'' people in the worst possible connotation that term can take on.
For, if the ones that booed the little maestro had had the good sense to look beyond the man's momentary struggles at the crease to the grand monument he has left behind, his dismissal might have brought a sort of heaviness to their hearts and tied up their tongues in sheer disbelief.
Then again, for many sportslovers, that is precisely the problem today — they have lost the capacity to appreciate history, to look at the larger picture, to go beyond the most recent stimuli and understand events in a historical perspective.
Worshippers of instant celebrity
Many of us, thanks to the influences of the age in which we live, have become worshippers of instant celebrity. The non-stop dross coming at us from all directions has forced us to wilfully conclude that today's success is the greatest success ever achieved, that today's seat-edge thriller is the greatest game ever played, that today's superstar is the greatest megastar of all times.
When our sporting culture has suffered this sort of corruption, when its essential core has been eroded by these giant new waves, it is hardly surprising that a great icon such as Tendulkar should himself become a victim in his own backyard.
The point is, Tendulkar never promised any of us a masterly century in every innings that he might get to play. We were the ones who set that impossible goal for the little man. That he has failed to meet that unrealistic goal is no sheen off his greatness; it merely throws light on our own foolishness.
At no point in his remarkable career did Tendulkar tell us that he was immortal; we turned him into a sort of superhuman phenomenon — where none exists in the known world — because we were perhaps ashamed of our own all too human limitations and wanted someone not-quite-like-us to look up to.
Never in the last 16 years that he has been dominating our sporting consciousness has Tendulkar ever hinted that he was invincible; we turned him into an invincible champion because we felt the need to bolster our own sense of everyday reality with something supernatural.
Harsh reality
The harsh reality of the capricious business of sport is this: every champion that has ever drawn breath, every champion as yet unborn, can be sure of one thing — some day, he will fail. The world of sport is yet to toast a truly invincible athlete.
But, then, in dealing with Tendulkar's failure — or any issue of this sort — it is very easy to find the answer we want; much, much more difficult to find the answer that matches the truth.
Of course, as passionate followers of the game, we are entitled to our own opinions. If some of us believe that the great man may not deserve a place in the team if he continues to fail, that's fair enough. Nobody owns a place in the Indian cricket team — not even Tendulkar.
But what is not fair — and will never be — is to stoop down to the sort of mindless pettiness that triggered the Mumbai booing on Sunday.
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