Gautam Gambhir: An Underrated Prodigy

No, we do not wish to see that face— the sadness in those handsome eyes and the evergreen glee drained from his smile, as SRK stands upfront at the Chinnaswamy balcony in a sleek black tee-shirt, clapping a gentleman’s consolation clap for all the hard work put in by the boys to reach to the semi-final, only to be outplayed by their long-term nemesis.

(For representational purpose only)

Despite a win against the Sun Risers in a rain curtailed eliminator, KKR clearly came into the match as underdogs against the high-flying Mumbai Indians with their momentum unsettled after a string of losses at the near end of the league stage. With wickets stumbling right from the start on a sluggish Bangalore pitch, KKR never seemed to be out of the doom that the Mumbai Indians had been to them in a decade of play. So, no, there won’t be any cartwheels this year, no charming kisses to be blown from the strands that set the crowds to a frenzy or little AbRam going around the ground with daddy darling waving his little palms to the exalting audience. All said and done, KKR this year with their experimentative game plan had left for us a lot to cherish: Lynn’s fury at the start and then coming back from an uprooted shoulder to provide all the entertainment, Robin’s consolidated cricket, Narine’s blistering cameos with the bat and the unfailing trap he always sets for the batters. 

While Pandya’s wide slash went past a diving Yadav on the third man boundary hauling Mumbai Indians to their third ever IPL final, and the camera quickly spans over to an ecstatic Rohit Sharma embracing all the player and support staffs in their dugout, my heart painfully goes out to the man who had been at the receiving end of everything bad and unfortunate despite his best efforts in this long tournament--Gautam Gambhir. Walking out of the park with his shoulders hung low, a grim shadow across his face, one of nation’s very best yet tragically underrated, I wonder if we could have done better to this man. With the team touring England for Champions Trophy in the coming month where they will be battling out on faster, bouncier pitches, this decision to pick Sharma ahead of Gambhir, despite his poor run in this IPL and even longer episodes of his inconsistency at the top of order, forever playing recklessly without a care in the world, feels in the heart like a stupid, unforgiveable comedy of errors.

For how long shall Sharma be backed for his once in blue moon carnage of 264 on a flat-as-highway Kolkata turf? For how long will the selectors wait before pulling the plugs on their beliefs of Sharma and Dhawan giving India a belting start, who like Rohit had also been a victim of inconsistency in the recently concluded England series and a strangely lucky cynosure to selector’s eyes? For how long shall GG be kept waiting on the lines, bearing the brunt of neglect and dubious choices, who at 35, from what I feel, like Sehwag, Zaheer and Dravid, is already at the brink of a hurtful retirement to a revered career?

© Sobhan

Sehwag - The difference between 'Freedom' and 'Technique'

While Indian batters walk into the Kotla fog under a new captain this morning, the series well sealed under their belts; it is the electricity, the energy that once used to vibrate in the stands, that is no more. The dew wet chairs are empty, the sparse crowd is quiet - no shouting, no chirping, no clapping.

One hour into the play and not once the ball has crossed the fences. Things look unusually quiet. That is what your difference make, dear Sehwag. While the world of cricket identifies you as a quick scorer, a swashbuckling batsman, someone who takes the bowling apart from the word go; I had known you as that obvious difference between ‘noise’ and ‘quietness’, between ‘screaming' and ‘clapping', between just a ‘test match’ and a ‘celebration’.

And as I push myself to believe against your absence, I realize that you have had already put on the jersey for the last time, leaned into your stance with music on your lips and have struck the last glorious boundary ever.

It is emotional to watch you in a suit in the stands today, talking about the golden memories of your immortal career, as a part of me continues to believe, may be long with desperation, that you would just come out again in the sun, swinging your arms and insert the amazing ‘difference' that you are into the silent corners of Feroz Shah Kotla and recreate magic once again.

As you walk off into the glorious sundown of your career, I get a strong feeling that may be it is just not retirement. It is the end of India's hope to go to lunch with over 250 runs on board. It is the end of the Mexican Waves that your shots raised in the crowd. For now it is once again the welcoming of a ‘game’, that you with your Midas touch did transform into a breezy ride of love and laughter over the last one and half decade. Or may be your bidding adieu to this sport that holds the heart of billions of Indians together, is a gentleman’s silent slap to two and a half years of being kept waiting and neglected by the BCCI. 

At the end, you won it all. And they lost it forever. 

The crawling score board, the fearlessness in the mind of the opponents and the empty stand shall continue to loom like an impenetrable shadow for many…many years to come.

Sobhan Pramanik