How Sachin Tendulkar epitomised simplicity and ubiquity to create a brand out of himself

Let me first say that this isn’t a hagiography, paean, or that quintessential serenading Sachin article. There are enough of those from the finest of cricket connoisseurs, elegant writers, garrulous commentators, able administrators, astute coaches, and doyens of the game, and if that’s not enough, over a billion ululating well-wishers, all of whom have already waxed lyrical on him. Why even after a hiatus from the sport, a passerby near the Wankhede stadium in South Mumbai, would swear he heard echoes of a “Sachin, Sachin”, still trapped in those famed stadium walls.  It’s no wonder even the New York Times , once said Sachin is “the most revered Indian since Mahatma Gandhi”. Sachin Tendulkar has hit plenty of half-centuries, almost needing only basic gross motor skills to achieve those half-tons. He hit his own half-century in April this year, as he celebrated his golden jubilee birthday. 2023 also marked a decade after his retirement from a game that the Empire coined, and India appropriated. As a former sports journalist, I focused on Tendulkar’s scintillating drives and match impact. Today, in my avatar as a policy wonk, I want to focus on understanding and explaining why Sachin Tendulkar came to occupy almost every Indian’s imagination and dominate the country’s cultural zeitgeist like no one else. India’s had dominant cricket heroes long before Sachin. Sunil Gavaskar and Kapil Dev were world beaters, and, in their era, they achieved the unthinkable, bringing India, what many considered its highest sporting accolade in the post-Independence era - the 1983 World Cup, you know, that movie you saw Ranveer Singh in. No, I didn’t forget the men’s Hockey World Cup win in 1975. For reasons and debate, I will wisely save for another day, the 1983 World Cup dislodged the 1975 heroics down the totem pole, and subsequently, cricket became the brand, and hockey went from national sport, to “let’s just try and keep Dhyan Chand’s memory alive”. Back to Dev and Gavaskar, no one could fathom at that point that their place in the pantheon of Indian imagination could be dislodged. Certainly not easily, but the real truth is that Sachin grew in an era when India grew. India may have attained independence in 1947, but it was under Fabián socialist structure and in an economic morass for four decades post-independence. The famed economic reforms of 1991, ushered in a period of liberalization, privatization, and globalization. As color television entered Indian households, Sachin brought color through that television in the living room. It wasn’t always with the bat, sometimes it was with the Boost . Other times, it was the sturdy MRF tires that became synonymous with Sachin’s bat for over two decades. And there was that long streak where he along with his fellow Indian cricketer teammates endorsed, as Steve Jobs would say, “ sugar water ”. Sachin was no longer just a top cricketer, or the MVP as the Americans say, he was in fact, a brand . Right from 1947, there was always a poignant sense of “ Saare Jahan Se Accha _”_ but no one in India could really add tangibility to the feeling. India wasn’t the economic behemoth that it is today. When Sachin had entered the fray in 1989, India had hit an economic nadir, salvaging its gold reserves for an International Monetary Fund (IMF) intervention. There was a large lacuna between the Global North and the Global South. Very few Indians could afford to travel overseas for leisure, and those who could, were greeted with archaic stereotypes redolent of Western hubris and racism. India had military glory in the wars of 1971, but India was no major defensive force in a set of minilaterals with the mighty United States, helping to secure a free and open Indo-Pacific .  There were a few diaspora success stories, this was long before the Silicon Valley ubiquity with Indian C-suite and Indra Nooyi and Ajay Banga were yet to become household names. India was a country that had centuries of civilization riches, but two centuries of colonial humiliation left not only its coffers vulnerable but also left a glaring self-confidence deficit. People needed a metaphor for “Saare Jahan Se Accha”. Enter Sachin Tendulkar India was a country of “Reel” heroes back then. Superheroes who were made in film and cinema in a Bombay studio. Sachin Tendulkar was a “real” hero, bred instead on a Bombay pitch. Reel heroes are the Amitabh Bachchan -like dapper dans, six foot something, hair styled, muscles protruding, and the “dishooming” would take place on cue. The “Reel” heroes looked the part. Sachin was far from this; he was a cherubic, diminutive, effervescent lad whose voice hadn’t cracked. One would argue, if a Bollywood movie on a top cricket player back then had to be cast, he wouldn’t make the top ten shortlist – he wasn’t an intimidating jock who would strut. But his story is what resonated with India. Most of India then, and heck even now, aren’t “Reel heroes”. Tendulkar would be that, if a giant hand was asked to pick out one sample from a crowded Bombay fast train – a five foot five, vada pav eating, jovial lad. And that short stature with that sublime batting prowess was a perfect allegory for David v Goliath. Here was Sachin, epitomizing humble beginnings, a young age, a batsman against fierce ferocious fast bowlers, taller to him by a foot, meaner looking, and from countries like England and Australia, more well-off, than India. Take that Empire! Yes, the West Indies’ fast bowling quartet and rise to fame against the Anglo-Saxon countries dampen my point a bit here, but you still see Sachin for David going up against the gargantuan Goliath quicks? India was also a time then of chronic inefficiency.  Those who achieved fame in India during its post-independence and pre-liberalization era did so in the worlds of politics, cinema, or the few business families then. Those fields had public eyes, and also had plenty of scions, the son of a famous movie star got his entry into films. The political honcho would ensure his son got a political ticket, bequeathing business as a family heirloom was par for the course. It’s not to say, the sport had no nepotism, oh heaven knows the cricketing administering bodies have been far from scrupulous. But Sachin epitomized a sense of humility that was rather rare back then. In fact, one of the first but many public figures, who achieved fame and fortune on his own merit, no genetic lottery won. India is a noisy democracy, even Mahatma Gandhi’s legacy is debated. Were Indira Gandhi ’s reforms hurting India economically? Were P.V. Narasimha Rao ’s reforms a stroke of genius or necessity? Well, the answer varied depending on whom you asked. There was little to debate on Sachin. His report card was out there for everyone to see, broadcasted by Doordarshan – there was little one could debate on when it came to an exquisite cover drive. Sachin in some ways was like Parle G , he epitomized simplicity and ubiquity in the posters that went up. He is among a rare breed of humility when the complications of the fame and fortune cocktail lead to a hangover of arrogance and hubris. For a country that had a global inferiority complex, they found self-respect and pride, in a little lad, who in the midst of umpires, sent a strong message to the Anglo-Saxon world, that in cricket, it was now the erstwhile colonies who ruled the Empire. The author is Washington DC-based former journalist and current Visiting Fellow at Observer Research Foundation (ORF). Views are personal.  Read all the  Latest News ,  Trending News ,  Cricket News ,  Bollywood News , India News  and  Entertainment News  here. Follow us on  Facebook ,  Twitter  and  Instagram .