That is a record belonging to a man who has always been, or at least expected to have been, an integral member of this Indian team. A man who has been injured for, during, or in, almost every series from a little after he made an explosively unbelievable entry into international cricket. A man who has scored, if I may use that term, more ducks than anyone with his kind of 'touted potential' has a right to. And a man who has let down more of his supporters, not to mention himself, like few other potential stars in the past have.
Where is the man we thought was coming through? Why does he seem so much better at confounding us than putting out the 'potential' skills he so does possess? Why does he, instead, put us through the agony of watching yet another 'young cricketer' falling by the wayside? (For reasons that can squarely be blamed on him and the people nurturing, or supposed to be nurturing, him.) Who should be held responsible for not getting on his case and teaching him to deal with the unfortunate 'unreality' of a dream debut? Where is the guiding hand that could have led him to the realization of the need to worship the sportsman's body like a shrine?
This is the man with the, relatively minor but no less astounding, record of the fastest 50 wickets in one-day cricket. A record he took from the greatest-of-the-greats Dennis Lillie. Some say it went to his head. If it did, it's only natural. He was young. He is young. He was ambitious. He is ambitious. It had to happen. It has to happen. We should have helped him control it. We should help him control it. Remind him that we are all mere mortals. And ensure Bajji doesn't go the same way. Except, Bajji has been through the fall. In that case, does this man too need to go the Bajji way? Some time out of the side, a few months of introspection, hours in the gym, days disciplining the mind and a healthy dose of the resilience-building-bitter-tasting medicine of starting all over. And, if he is the man we all thought, and still think, he was, is, it is a mountain he will climb.
But first, he needs to talk to the voice inside. A voice that will tell him things like his batting needs work. That he needs to internalize the value of discipline. A voice that will also speak of the nothingness of pure talent. The futility of living on cloud 9. And the impatience of public demand. He will learn that a captain can only stand by him for this long. And that his 'this long' is on the verge of becoming 'too long.' That the tag 'unlucky,' is only a few, little steps away from 'unfulfilled potential.' And that the road from strike bowler to unnecessary luxury could be just around the corner.
Fine, we've been asked to now accept him as a strike bowler who can bat a bit. Okay, we shall let the disappointment of having lived the lie of him being the next genuine all-rounder India had always been looking for. Are we next going to have to accept him as a Rolls Royce? Do we need a Rolls Royce? I don't want a Rolls Royce. I don't get good spare parts here. I can't afford maintenance. It's not suited for all conditions. It's moody. It's temperamental. It's royal. It's a prima donna. I am at its mercy. This is a team game. It's less about style and more about substance. It's about doing one's bit. We've had enough individuals. I want a Volvo.
A Volvo may be boxy, but it's good. It's dependable. It's strong. It's not difficult to maintain. It's reliable. It's a fighter. It's Ravi Shastri. This Indian team could certainly do with a Ravi Shastri. No we don't want another potential Kapil Dev. We want a real Ravi Shastri. We want somebody we can count on. We want someone for a full series. This business of taking casual, medical, sick or whatever leave, so frequently has to stop. This is not professional. How much time do they tolerate unfulfilled potential in any other profession? It is not fair on the other performers. On the one's on the fringes. Worse, it might also be a demotivator. 'They' will say to themselves, if he's given such a margin, why not I? Can I also afford to let my body breakdown so often? Why can't I? Or is he just more special than I? (Is he?)
By the way, I like the man. (And it's not just because he happens to be from my city.) I just wish he'd not make us, me, wait any longer. Please Sir, do yourself, and us, a favour. Spend a little time getting re-acquainted with the reality of modern-day cricket. The pressures of failure. The importance of asking oneself hard questions. And other such demons you need to exorcise from your system. I don't think we can live through another series with you breaking down. Again. Here's hoping you don't do a Beckett on us.
PS: I trust we all know whom we are talking about.
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