Sorry Sachin haters, but this time it’s personal

By Abhilasha Khaitan If I don’t write about it, it won’t become real. But there is only that much time one can spend in oblivion. It has happened: the beginning of the end of the world according to cricket can be timed to around noon on Sunday. Dramatic much, you think. You’ll get no apologies from me. Because this time it is very, very personal. Here’s my story, and it isn’t a particularly popular one these days. I am an unabashed Sachin Tendulkar supporter. Even during his bitterest struggles, I have found it difficult to dip into that ever-growing ocean of discontent. It has never been easy to isolate the phases of strife from 23 years of unfettered commitment towards the sport. Call me naïve or, worse, a ‘fan’, but the idol mantle still sits firmly on the man’s shoulders. [caption id=“attachment_567967” align=“alignleft” width=“380”]  Sachin Tendulkar. Getty[/caption] I was on my way home from Pune when I got this text from my brother: SRT retires. Two reactions occurred in rapid succession. First, my heart jumped into my mouth and a sinking (more like drowning, really) sensation started taking root in my stomach. Then, immediately, all survivor-like, I went into complete denial mode. I refused to check Twitter or any of the usual suspects. This was obviously an unfunny prank played by my brother to spook me, I told myself. Hah. There was no way that I was falling for this one. That delusion lasted for a happy half-hour. I was forced to raise my head out of the sand. The message, although a deliberate exaggeration, was no prank. Tendulkar had indeed retired from ODIs. The news channels were obviously going to do an analysis of the greatness of the man; there would be eulogies and soundbites from experts and fans. It was inevitable. Despite the other big events of the day, at least some part of the airtime would be devoted to Sachin. However, I didn’t want to have to deal with this for a little while longer. I shrugged, switched off the TV and went off to sleep. The thing is this: Tendulkar is the main reason I even became a cricket writer (and let that not be yet another reason to criticise him!). There I was, working the numbers on Excel sheets, bored as hell of the tedium of a corporate job, when I got hooked on to India’s infamous 1999-2000 tour of Australia. You’d wonder why that particular series should attract anyone to cricket – but I was enraptured by the contest between Sachin and Glenn McGrath, riveted by the grit and helplessness of a lone man’s battle and, in a sense, inspired to write. The idea of being able to follow the journey of such brilliance was too alluring to resist and I decided to make it my job. Perhaps my motives for wanting to delay his farewell party are very selfish. Just think what a void his impending absence from the game would leave for people like me. Every writer needs a muse and Tendulkar has been that for so many of us, although it is currently uncool to admit to it. After all, what is sport minus the heroes – statistics, technology and sponsors? They are what compel us to queue up outside stadiums or wake up at 3am to watch. Take away their firepower and all you have are bright lights and neon clothing. I don’t know about you but I am staying away from the world of cynicism and even hate that now surrounds him. Embattled, alone and diminished he may be, but I’m holding on to this particular hero for as long as possible. The writer can be reached at @abbykhaitan on Twitter.