So, finally, it came. A century against Bangladesh, in Bangladesh, in an ODI. And, to boot, a workmanlike effort, no frills, just a methodical march to a hundred, nothing more to say about the innings. Tendulkar himself was, by now, frustrated enough that his overwhelming emotion was only relief.
But although most of the commentary paid richly deserved tribute, there seems to be this small sense that the event, when it happened, didn't merit the occasion. After all, consider where we have been. Way back, when this was barely news, there was India-Pakistan in the World Cup. Then, the final, at the Wankhede. What better place, what better time? Not to be. No matter, venue and occasion quickly followed one after the other, each one seemingly just as fitting or more, than the previous one for the man and his momentous achievement. The 2000th Test at Lords, a Test at the Oval. Wankhede again, cheering its favourite son home. MCG, The Sachin Cricket Ground, with the Australians themselves claiming it was destined to be so. It was not. The WACA and the Adelaide Oval, scenes of past glory. No and no. Finally it comes in unheralded Bangladesh. You sense that everyone had all kinds of material where they wrote eloquently about the place, the time, and the monumental milestone, about how it all magically came together just so. All for nought, for there is not a whole lot to wax lyrical about an ODI against Bangladesh at the Sher-e-Bangla. Thus, the quick mention, the pivot to more illustrious past, and the almost apologetic explanation about how it should be about the hundred hundreds, not just the hundredth.
But I disagree. I think it is quite fitting for Tendulkar to have reached the milestone where, when and how he did. Take, first of all, the people in the stands, the Bangladesh fans. I was telling myself a few days ago, watching the TV showing Bangladesh fans in the stands praying - literally hands-together-praying - their team onwards in their chase of Pakistan's total, that it must really be wonderful to be a Bangladesh fan. The tension, the suspense, the importance of every match. With all the top notch talent and all the matches and the winning, all of us fans of all major playing nations, are, I think, just a bit jaded. Although many of us (probably not Australian fans) can remember, if we tried, another time of endless frustration just at the brink of world class and the sheer exhilaration of unexpected but long-awaited triumph, we are not as innocent now. Winning is normal, and losing is only an opportunity for criticising or at best informed analysis, no time for renewed and postponed hope. If anyone deserved to see Tendulkar's feat firsthand, I think the Bangladesh fans did. Probably more than anyone else, for their unrivaled passion and their innocent enjoyment of the game. This story about a veteran Bangladeshi photojournalist shooting the event in spite of being ill captures the point perfectly. The privilege of witnessing this bit of history was no less deserved by those at the Sher-e-Bangla than the grandees at Lord's or the SCG.
If you are not convinced by that line of argument, there is another dimension to this as well. Sharda Ugra writes in this lovely piece about how, for two decades Tendulkar has kept the Machine at bay. And here we see how it is done. We see it in the poignant report on the previous day of Tendulkar attending optional nets. 70 minutes of batting practice before a match against Bangladesh, after 99 centuries over 22 years. We see it in the struggle, for more than a year. We see it in the almost enforced humility in seeing Lord's, SCG and MCG, Wankhede go by in failure, so near yet so far, but Mirpur - Mirpur ! - provide succour, even then only after patient, no-frills, honest labor. We see that Tendulkar does his part, refusing to depart from simply working hard, practising, playing, and practising some more no matter what, where and who the opposition. And we see that the powers that be do theirs in protecting him. He gets his due, but not before he pays a price that shows to anyone who is paying attention how you can get a hundred hundreds while not being swallowed by the Machine.
A hundred hundreds achieved in Mirpur against Bangladesh is the culmination, the supreme symbol of the man beating the Machine. Simultaneously, it is also a manual for how to do it. If we appreciate Tendulkar not just for his cricketing genius but also for who he is, as I do, this is as good as it can get.
But although most of the commentary paid richly deserved tribute, there seems to be this small sense that the event, when it happened, didn't merit the occasion. After all, consider where we have been. Way back, when this was barely news, there was India-Pakistan in the World Cup. Then, the final, at the Wankhede. What better place, what better time? Not to be. No matter, venue and occasion quickly followed one after the other, each one seemingly just as fitting or more, than the previous one for the man and his momentous achievement. The 2000th Test at Lords, a Test at the Oval. Wankhede again, cheering its favourite son home. MCG, The Sachin Cricket Ground, with the Australians themselves claiming it was destined to be so. It was not. The WACA and the Adelaide Oval, scenes of past glory. No and no. Finally it comes in unheralded Bangladesh. You sense that everyone had all kinds of material where they wrote eloquently about the place, the time, and the monumental milestone, about how it all magically came together just so. All for nought, for there is not a whole lot to wax lyrical about an ODI against Bangladesh at the Sher-e-Bangla. Thus, the quick mention, the pivot to more illustrious past, and the almost apologetic explanation about how it should be about the hundred hundreds, not just the hundredth.
But I disagree. I think it is quite fitting for Tendulkar to have reached the milestone where, when and how he did. Take, first of all, the people in the stands, the Bangladesh fans. I was telling myself a few days ago, watching the TV showing Bangladesh fans in the stands praying - literally hands-together-praying - their team onwards in their chase of Pakistan's total, that it must really be wonderful to be a Bangladesh fan. The tension, the suspense, the importance of every match. With all the top notch talent and all the matches and the winning, all of us fans of all major playing nations, are, I think, just a bit jaded. Although many of us (probably not Australian fans) can remember, if we tried, another time of endless frustration just at the brink of world class and the sheer exhilaration of unexpected but long-awaited triumph, we are not as innocent now. Winning is normal, and losing is only an opportunity for criticising or at best informed analysis, no time for renewed and postponed hope. If anyone deserved to see Tendulkar's feat firsthand, I think the Bangladesh fans did. Probably more than anyone else, for their unrivaled passion and their innocent enjoyment of the game. This story about a veteran Bangladeshi photojournalist shooting the event in spite of being ill captures the point perfectly. The privilege of witnessing this bit of history was no less deserved by those at the Sher-e-Bangla than the grandees at Lord's or the SCG.
If you are not convinced by that line of argument, there is another dimension to this as well. Sharda Ugra writes in this lovely piece about how, for two decades Tendulkar has kept the Machine at bay. And here we see how it is done. We see it in the poignant report on the previous day of Tendulkar attending optional nets. 70 minutes of batting practice before a match against Bangladesh, after 99 centuries over 22 years. We see it in the struggle, for more than a year. We see it in the almost enforced humility in seeing Lord's, SCG and MCG, Wankhede go by in failure, so near yet so far, but Mirpur - Mirpur ! - provide succour, even then only after patient, no-frills, honest labor. We see that Tendulkar does his part, refusing to depart from simply working hard, practising, playing, and practising some more no matter what, where and who the opposition. And we see that the powers that be do theirs in protecting him. He gets his due, but not before he pays a price that shows to anyone who is paying attention how you can get a hundred hundreds while not being swallowed by the Machine.
A hundred hundreds achieved in Mirpur against Bangladesh is the culmination, the supreme symbol of the man beating the Machine. Simultaneously, it is also a manual for how to do it. If we appreciate Tendulkar not just for his cricketing genius but also for who he is, as I do, this is as good as it can get.
