Don's black and white farewell. How will Sachin walk away?

In every corner of the cricketing world, and some which are traditionally not, today cricket is being played. All Test playing cricket nations are, as I write, playing somewhere – some form of cricket – India vs. England, Australia vs. South Africa, Bangladesh vs. West Indies, New Zealand vs. Zimbabwe, Pakistan vs. Sri Lanka. You can surf the channels, and pick up snippets of action from Test to T-20, ODI in the desert to ODI in Delhi… a surfeit of cricket. The biggest battle coming up, is, of course, the Tests between South Africa and Australia – sadly, only two Tests because of the Champions Trophy; Pakistan and Sri Lanka in the desert is a traditional rivalry, with Pakistan showing signs of coming to terms with itself once again, and Sri Lanka just not quite there; Bangladesh takes care of the West Indies, for the moment, but the feeling is that this is not of great significance, for the Windies are weak, and Bangladesh needs to win against a truly top team to finally make a mark in world cricket; and here at home, with great relish we are whipping the English, and Virat Kohli is king – but, like Bangladesh, he must still prove himself against the very best, on foreign soil, and the tour of Australia is going to be his chance. [caption id=“attachment_113657” align=“alignright” width=“380” caption=“Don Bradman was simply the best. Getty Images”]  [/caption] And amidst all this, I catch a documentary on Bradman one early morning – with amazing footage of him, including pictures of his shots against us in Australia in ’46. The Don – two things stood out as I watched the black and white memories grace the screen; how almost frail he was, how so much not the typical Aussie of brawn and bustle – he ran up and down the pitch almost on tiptoes, as if not wanting to bruise the green perfection; and how simply he played, with minimum of fuss, and with a bottom hand guiding his bat in perfect angles to meet the ball – he never hit the ball hard, and he was content to push and scamper – And always, always there was a look of calm confidence on his face – as if cricket was his job, and his passion, his art and his calling — Two moments – he is bowled by Hollies for a duck in his final at bat, and he almost lunges forward, awkwardly, his back foot slipping—a very unDon-like moment. Was it the emotion? The entire English team had just given him ‘three cheers’, and the legend is that he had tears in his eyes. I want to believe the legend is true – and then, as ‘time in all his tuneful turning allows so few and such morning songs’, there is Bradman walking away, still light on his toes, and his expression still unchanged. So Sachin will one day walk away for the last time… ‘The children, green and golden, follow him out grace…’ Gavaskar’s last innings was an ODI one, albeit in the semi-final of the ’87 World Cup – he was also clean-bowled, and I was there to see it – along with about sixty thousand others at the Wankhede. We just could not believe, as his off-stump went flying - it was as if a reason for living went flying, too; a reason for believing, a reason for hoping… When Sachin goes, what will we do? – I hope it is a Test inning, and he has just scored a century, and India has won, and he is not out – And I hope I am there to see it – And I hope it does not happen for many years to come…