Destiny's Child - Sachin Tendulkar

The events of the last few weeks are freaking me out. Anil Kumble has gone, Sourav Ganguly has gone, and the other three may not be far behind. I assume there is a large group of cricket fans in their mid-to-late 20s, like me, who are grappling with the implications. This transition is messing with our minds.

Let me explain. For many of us cricket began in November 1989. Pictures of what went before are too hazy.

Sachin Tendulkar spoilt us. He commanded that we sit in front of the television sets. He ensured we got late with homework, he took care of our lunch-break discussions. He was not all that much older, so some of us naive schoolboys thought we would achieve similar feats when we were 16. We got to 16 and continued to struggle with homework.

Then came Kumble and the two undertook a teenager-pampering mission not seen in India before. Tendlya walked on water, Jumbo parted seas. Our mothers were happy that we had nice heroes - down-to-earth prodigy and studious, brilliant bespectacled engineer. They were honest, industrious sportsmen, embodying the middle class.

Now, after close to 20 years, my generation needs to brace itself for this exodus. Some of my friends, crazy as this sounds, have been talking of needing to revaluate their own careers. Others are realising they need to recalibrate their childhood definitions of cricket. "Part of me just died," said a college friend who was the kind of extreme cricket buff who memorised scorecards. "No Dada, no Jumbo. I'm positive I'll stop watching after Sachin retires."

These players were not only outstanding cricketers but also great statesmen. However hard they competed, they were always exceptional role models. Now we dread the next wave of brashness and impetuosity. Harbhajan Singh and Sreesanth are talented cricketers, but there's no way anyone would want a young kid to emulate either. The younger crop seems worse - a visit to some of their Orkut and Facebook pages tells you enough - and things may only get cruder in a cricket world when you can make a million dollars in a little over three hours.

"Our childhood is ending," said a friend from college, and in some way he was probably spot on. Tendulkar's retirement may mean a lot of things to a lot of people, but for a generation of 25- to 30-year-olds it will mark the end of the first part of their lives. Switching on the television the day after will be a serious challenge.

It was Australia v India,2008, 4th Test, Adelaide, 1st day

Don't try to interview passionate India fans (as if there's any other kind) when Sachin Tendulkar is batting. For one, they've barely got half an ear on the questions, while you have more stop-starts with the tape than a nervous sprint-race starter.

You simply can't hear anything other than a roar of "Sachin! Sachin! Sachin!" when he so much as touches the ball if you're sitting anywhere near the three main 30-strong clumps of India fans at the Cathedral End, which should be renamed the Sachin Stand.

All are based in Adelaide, most studying potentially lucrative IT, engineering or business. Even the majority of the Bharat Army, one of the three groups, have made Adelaide their semi-permanent home as students here, although these loyal followers have travelled throughout Australia following India since Boxing Day.

"No-one else matches his class," murmurs Gill, a Bharat Army member, over three takes of the tape. "I want to watch him just get a century." Does Tendulkar love the support? "Definitely he does, he looks back over here when he gets a half-century," he smiles proudly. "Keep a close eye."

Two overs later Gill's proven right: Tendulkar clips a single through midwicket off Stuart Clark to bring up his half-century and immediately turns and points his bat to acknowledge the Bharat Army before anyone else, even his team-mates.

Rajeed, another Army member, is not surprised. "He is a good man, very polite, and he has not changed," he said, echoing everyone canvassed. "That's why he's so popular in India. He is like a God and he's treated just next to the prime minister. I'm sure that if he participated in the prime ministerial elections he is going to be the next prime minister."

It's not just that he's the best in his field - "He is legend!" smiles Harish, "Legend is ultimate word," adds Vamshi - it's that he's the best in cricket, too. "Cricket has murdered other sports in India," says Lovepreet, yet another student, who also thinks Tendulkar's appearance accounts for 25% of the Indian fans here. "He has done a lot for India, even his record doesn't tell the full story. He's been consistent."

Has Tendulkar unwittingly, albeit beautifully, massacred anyone else's chances to be held so reverently in the future? "There will be no-one like him," reckons Vamshi, but Lovepreet is not so sure. "People used to say when Sunil Gavaskar retired, 'Who will bat for India now?' but time goes on, people come and go, it's not going to stop. I will still go on India tours when he's gone."

Tendulkar has to retire one day and this could be his last Test in Australia. Most people are expecting this, but not Rajeed. "I think he is planning for a long time. He is saying that 'I can play at least for four or five years'. The people are saying, he is not saying 'I am retiring after this series'. I think he will play the next World Cup in 2011."

Regardless, while the Army has had t-shirts made to spell out one word if they line up properly, it's not the word 'Sachin' emblazoned. It's that of their country. And in among the joyous "Sachin! Sachin! Sachin!", an equally infectious "India! India. India! India." starts up and it's impossible not to join in.

Not everyone is in raptures over the man who has scored more than 11,000 Test runs. While most of the home fans undoubtedly respect Tendulkar - Australians loves a champion - some are indifferent. "I don't rate him very highly," says 26-year-old Andy. "He's not really a phenomenon here. We just feel the ripple effects from India and through other Indians and expats here in Australia."

But when he hears that while Tendulkar was coming into bat, among the resounding cheers were jeers and boos and someone even shouted: "You suck, Tendulkar", Andy is quick in response. "That's disrespectful and offensive. You wouldn't do it to anyone."

Later, Tendulkar brings up his century cover-driving Michael Clarke and the whole ground stands as one, Australian fans leading the bowing in fact. Tendulkar, it seems, has won yet another set of fans over.

If this is his last Test here then he has picked his moment well, particularly as he came averaging 20.33 here, way down on his in-Australia average of 55.50. He more than surpassed it though, with an innings that will live long in the memory.

Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar is destiny's favourite child.

In November 1989, a London-based writer came to the Indian team's nets in Karachi to seek out a player he was told had the "best on-drive in the game". That player, Sachin Tendulkar, was 16 and yet to play a Test, but he already had his future mapped out - by others as much as by himself. Anything less than the most centuries and the highest aggregate in international cricket would count as failure.

Nearly two decades later, when the inevitable has come to pass, fans may be merely satisfied rather than overcome, and even quite blasé about it. If it was ordained, where is the surprise? Such is the tyranny of inevitability. It throws a veil over the hard work, the physical toll, the mental strain that have gone into the making of a record-breaker. Of the 19 batsmen who have scored more than 8000 runs, only five have held the highest aggregate record, only three have played 150 Tests, but only one, Tendulkar, has been two different batsmen.

Over the years, Sachin Tendulkar has been the most wholesome batsman of his time, and arguably the biggest cricket icon as well. His batting is based on the purest principles: perfect balance, economy of movement, precision in stroke-making, and that intangible quality given only to geniuses, anticipation. If he doesn't have a signature stroke - the upright, back-foot punch comes close - it is because he is equally proficient in each of the full range of orthodox shots (and plenty of improvised ones as well) and can pull them out at will.

But Tendulkar is more than the sum of his figures. His mere presence is a morale booster, both for his ten colleagues in the team, and the billion supporters outside it. As remarkable as his record is his self-possession. His head hasn't changed size, his boots haven't grown smaller. He alone knows what it means to be Tendulkar, with its frustrations, its sacrifices, and the need to be Tendulkar at all times. He is a one-man university that teaches sportsmen how to handle money, fame and pressure.

Indians refuse to give Tendulkar the luxury of failure. The mirror he holds up to us is a distorted one, making us seem, like him, invincible, rich and accomplished. When he fails, therefore, it is as if we fail. That is the biggest compliment fans can pay their hero. But it is a heavy burden, even if Tendulkar seems to carry it lightly.

A rough calculation shows that he averages over 200 days in a year travelling for cricket, playing it at the highest level, or practising for it. Two-thirds of a year devoted to cricket, and not one bad day at work? Even Mozart was allowed an occasional off day. The future will treat Tendulkar much better than we have, although we were given the privilege of watching the boy grow into a man and live up to potential. Even that is a remarkable feat. Not every promising player accomplishes as much as he promises. Tendulkar has. Let us celebrate that. His record will be broken. But his impact will last.