Sachin's 100 was a nudge, not a blow

I watched the century with the commentary on ‘silent’ – except for the exact moment, when I had to hear Gavaskar’s voice, as he was and is the guide and guideline for Sachin – and the English verses of Swami Vivekananda playing in the background, speaking eloquently of the calm between the peaks of passion, and the light in the deep of night; and I had just come from rehearsing a play on Gandhi_ji_. And there he was, all five and a half feet of him – Gandhi_ji_’s height – complete with strange new haircut and oh, so familiar stance and grimaces – and his hundred run was a nudge, not a blow – and his celebration was muted, not mindless. And he had done it – has done it – done what even his deepest critics will have to acknowlege. He has done it. But, but, but – he cannot be happy – not truly. [caption id=“attachment_249143” align=“alignleft” width=“380” caption=“Sachin’s ton wasn’t his best and he knows that. Reuters”] [/caption] How could he be truly happy when we lost the match? How can we be truly happy? He knows, we all know, that another fifteen runs would have done the trick. And now the match – the match that really mattered – has ended. Sachin scored in this match, not a 100, and we won. Now we can be happy – truly happy. Swami Vivekananda and Gandhi_ji_ – icons of their time and times… For the past 23 years, Sachin has been our icon – he has been both the peaks of passion and the calm between – both the light in the middle of the night, and the hint of darkness in the noonday sun. He has led from the front, has made hundreds and hundreds of Dandi marches’ from the pavilion to the crease and back again – and always with the same dignity and purpose with which Gandhi_ji_ walked. His first walk to the international crease in late ’89, dragging his bat behind him, as if it was his schoolbag and he was reluctantly going to a Dadar school. Now he looks to the heavens, to judge the sun and remember his father – in ’89 his head was slightly bowed, as if in thought, or meditation. His 100th. 100, if we look at carefully, was not one of great innings – it was a trifle slow, a bit laboured – the ball was not coming off the middle of the bat ; the pitch sluggish, and Sachin himself just a little so. And after reaching the milestone, he tried to race the pace, and just could not, quite. He knows it well – and this is not to criticise him – he knows it well – it was not his greatest, and India lost – he may be happy at one level, but unsatisfied at another. A list of Sachin’s injuries and stats appeared in the morning papers – well documented, and well explained – he scores an international century roughly every 7.5 innings – he waited 33 innings for this one – four times the average –   his first serious injury, to his back, was in ’99 – when he began to cut down his flamboyant shots, especially the lofted ones – and when he first began to have to pick and choose matches – which affected both his concentration and his game, as the two are so strongly linked. But today is today – and no one knows it better than Sachin. A win – as Virat Kohli’s knock ensured against Pakistan – can make us and especially Sachin, truly happy.