My first memory of Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar comes from my first ever memory of cricket, an old VHS video tape titled ‘Imran Khan’s Cornered Tigers’, the video tape was a highlight package of all of Pakistan’s matches in the 1992 World Cup. A 19 year old SRT made a sparkling half century and also bowled his full quota of 10 overs going for 30 odd and getting Aamir Sohail out. As cricket became my obsession and I started reading its history I discovered his mammoth knocks at the school level and couldn’t help but admire his maturity and concentration spans. In Pakistan, at the school level, we never played more than 16 overs a side, and to read about a 14-year-old involved in a 664 run partnership was unbelievable. With each passing year my bond with cricket became stronger and my admiration for SRT grew.
I shadow practised his signature punch off the back foot in my bathroom mirror, those searing straight drives that blazed to the fence showing the full face of the bat. I had heated arguments with friends at school and on the cricket field who belittled Sachin just because he was Indian. They used to say “you’re an Indian lover”. My reply was “I am a cricket lover and being a Pakistani did not mean I couldn’t appreciate a “cricketing god” who happened to be Indian”. Cricket broke all those silly barriers. I remember watching his 143 against Australia in the middle of a desert storm; I remember his hundred against Pakistan at Chennai. He faced Wasim, Waqar and Saqlain at their peak. I desperately wanted Pakistan to win, but I also wanted to see Sachin score a hundred.
I remember watching his century against Kenya in the 1999 World Cup, which he scored right after attending his father’s funeral, and I remember having a lump stuck in my throat as he raised his bat and looked to the heavens. I remember watching him slaughter Shoaib Akhtar in the 2003 World Cup and consoling myself thinking that it would’ve been more painful had it been any other Indian batsman treating our Shaibi like a club bowler. I remember his googly that bowled Moin Khan on the last ball of the day in Karachi. I remember watching him become the first man on the planet to score 200 against South Africa and thinking he was the only one worthy of breaking Saeed Anwar’s record. I remember many such innings where I wondered why Sachin couldn’t have been born on our side of the Wagah border.
More than anything else I remember the humility with which he always carried himself. Unlike Pakistani superstars he never came across as brash or arrogant and always seemed grounded and humble. He held the spirit of cricket on a high pedestal and was an exemplary role model in terms of the way he interacted with his opponents and fans. He never got embroiled in any petty politics or scandal throughout the course of his 24-year long career thereby establishing his status as the “god of cricket”.
On the 15th of November, I woke up early on a holiday to watch him bat for one last time live. It felt quite nostalgic watching him bat in his final innings, he’s someone I’ve grown watching and has been playing since I was born. As he bowed down to touch the pitch and then his forehead to seek blessings from the game that had made him a living legend I felt goose bumps all over. Cricket was Sachin’s religion and the pitch his place of worship. He played the game as an act of love and worship which made him such a phenomenon and gained him reverence across the world.
How could Sachin ever think he’s bigger than the game, cricket has given him all the respect that people can’t even dream of, and here he was for one last time acknowledging that truth with his little gesture. From then onwards every ball thrown towards him felt like history was being made and it was a truly an honour to be able to witness Sachin’s last innings. Thank you for the memories, Sachin, thank you for being the most amazing ambassador cricket could ever ask for and thank you for everything that you’ve given to the game. Cricket will never be the same again.
The blogger is a freelance columnist. His Twitter handle is @jalalhussain