One of the things I remember asking him was how he thought he would have coped in the contemporary game. He said that he didn’t think he would have scored quite so many runs because of the more defensive field settings that are used nowadays; when he was playing, the fields weren’t changed much, even if a batsman was scoring a lot of runs, and fielding positions like deep point weren’t in vogue back in the 1930s. He also said that the standard of fielding was much better in the contemporary game.
Finally, we asked what he thought his Test average would be if he played today. ‘Around 70,’ he said. We were slightly surprised and asked if he was sure it would be so much lower than his famous career average of 99.94. He said, ‘Well, 70 isn’t bad for a ninety-year-old!’
All in all, 1998 was a special year in my career.
* * *
Australia in India 1998 – The Border–Gavaskar Trophy
1st Test. Chennai. 6–10 March 1998
India 257 (NS Sidhu 62, NR Mongia 58, R Dravid 52, SR Tendulkar 4; GR Robertson 4–72, SK Warne 4–85) and 418–4 dec (SR Tendulkar 155*, NS Sidhu 64, M Azharuddin 64, R Dravid 56)
Australia 328 (IA Healy 90, ME Waugh 66, GR Robertson 57; A Kumble 4–103, SLV Raju 3–54) and 168 (SK Warne 35, IA Healy 32*; A Kumble 4–46)
India won by 179 runs
2nd Test. Kolkata. 18–21 March 1998
Australia 233 (SR Waugh 80, RT Ponting 60; SC Ganguly 3–28, A Kumble 3–44, J Srinath 3–80) and 181 (MA Taylor 45; A Kumble 5–62, J Srinath 3–44)
India 633–5 dec (M Azharuddin 163*, NS Sidhu 97, VVS Laxman 95, R Dravid 86, SR Tendulkar 79, SC Ganguly 65)
India won by an innings and 219 runs
3rd Test. Bangalore. 25–28 March 1998
India 424 (SR Tendulkar 177, NS Sidhu 74, M Azharuddin 40; AC Dale 3–71, SK Warne 3–106) and 169 (NS Sidhu 44, SR Tendulkar 31; MS Kasprowicz 5–28, GR Robertson 3–28, SK Warne 2–80)
Australia 400 (ME Waugh 153*, MJ Slater 91, DS Lehmann 52; A Kumble 6–98) and 195–2 (MA Taylor 102*, MJ Slater 42; SR Tendulkar 1–41)
Australia won by 8 wickets
India won the series 2–1
10
TUMULTUOUS TIMES
While I was starting to play some of the best cricket of my career, at home my life had undergone a fundamental transformation. That is because on 12 October 1997 I had received my greatest ever gift, with Anjali giving birth to our first child. I had shared the news that I was expecting a child with my team-mates when we were touring Zimbabwe in February 1997 and organized an impromptu party in celebration. I was thrilled at the thought of becoming a father.
The night before the moment finally arrived I was with my friend Sunil Harshe on the terrace of Anjali’s family’s house in Breach Candy. The house was just two minutes away from the hospital and I had been told by Anjali’s paediatrician friend, Dr Ajit Gajendragadkar, that he would call me the moment they brought her out of the delivery room. My prolonged presence in the hospital would have caused difficulties for the authorities and it was best that I waited for the call. Restless and anxious, I was lying on the terrace, staring up at the sky, and I remember saying to Sunil that within hours I would be a father and turn a new page in my life. All I was praying for was that Anjali and the child would both be safe and healthy.
When Dr Gajendragadkar finally called me with the good news the following day, I arrived at the hospital within minutes with a video camera in my hand. Seconds after reaching the maternity ward, I saw the doctor carrying my child in his arms and that’s when I was told that God had blessed us with a baby girl. I recorded the whole thing and cherish the recording of the doctor bringing my daughter out to me. It’s impossible to describe the overwhelming sensation of seeing my child for the first time. I went up to Anjali and said to her that we would call our daughter Sara. In fact, it was a name that Ajit had suggested and both Anjali and I loved it. When the doctor asked me to hold Sara, I was much too nervous to do so at first, though I was longing to take her in my arms. I had never held a newborn in my life.
On the day of Sara’s birth, I asked permission from the hospital authorities to stay with Anjali in her room. I simply did not want to leave my wife and daughter alone. While I knew that they were in good hands, I wanted to be with them the whole time. They were only too kind and suggested that, while there wasn’t an extra bed for me, I could stay in the same room as Anjali and they were happy to provide a mattress, which was placed on the floor. That was fine with me and I will always appreciate their help.
Sara, according to everyone who saw her, was a carbon copy of me and I loved the act of putting her to sleep in my arms. I would just rock her for a couple of minutes and she would go off to sleep. I had a beard then and once she was a few months old I would place her on my lap and brush her hair with it. It was a favourite father–daughter pastime and something both of us loved to do every day.
With a packed cricket calendar, which entailed me being away from home for long periods, it could not have been easy for Anjali to bring up young Sara alone, but not once did she appear to resent this or ask me to spend more time at home. For my part, I know I found it difficult to leave my newborn daughter. Every time I came back after a tour I could spot the changes in her and I was aware that I was missing out on something truly special.
The first international destination that young Sara travelled to was New Zealand in December 1998. We arrived in Napier to start with and the team were given comfortable serviced apartments to stay in. I was given a two-bedroom apartment and it was decided that Anjali and Sara would sleep in one bedroom while I used the other. Sara, who had just turned one, had serious trouble adjusting to the time difference. She would be awake all night and would expect Anjali to play with her the whole time. I would put her to sleep all right, but then she would wake up an hour later and start wandering all over the apartment. Because I had to train or play a match the next day, there was no way I could stay up with her. As a result the responsibility fell on Anjali.
At one stage we were both finding it extremely tough to adjust and Anjali suggested that she would much rather return to India. It was difficult managing a toddler alone, having to cook, clean and wash her clothes, and when it was time to sleep she would be wide awake and ready to play. But then we took her to the park to feed the ducks in the pond, which she loved, and that gave us so much joy that the thought of going back was buried.
There is another story about Sara in New Zealand that I will never forget. The door to my bedroom was always kept open so that Sara could come and go whenever she wanted. One morning Bhajji said to me that I ought to check if she had something in her mouth. I was surprised, because we had not given her anything. I had to persuade Sara to open her mouth for me and when she did I was shocked to see that she had four or five cherry stones in her mouth. She must have had them in there for at least a few minutes, and had it not been for Bhajji there could have been a serious problem.
The team spent Christmas and New Year in New Zealand in 1998–99 and we will always remain grateful to two expat Indians for bailing us out on Christmas Day. None of us had an idea that everything in Wellington, including restaurants, would remain shut between the night of 24 and the morning of 26 December. In India all restaurants and hotels are open on Christmas Day, with people eating out to celebrate the occasion. In Wellington, even the team hotel would not serve food and the team was left to fend for themselves. That’s when Mori Patel, Ilesh Patel and Nanu bhai came to our rescue.
Mori bhai, Ilesh bhai and Nanu bhai are residents of Wellington, and on Christmas Day they came over to our hotel with all sorts of amazing food. We all enjoyed feasting on the fantastic Indian food that had been specially prepared for us. Apart from not starving on Christmas Day, it meant we could also get a taste of fantastic home-cooked Indian food. Over the years, the Patels came to watch a lot of our games in New Zealand and sometimes even travelled to Aus
tralia to see us play. Each time they would bring food and tea for us. Ilesh bhai’s desi chai (Indian tea) was a hit among the players and each time I saw him I would ask, ‘Ilesh bhai chai nahi pilayenge kya?’ (Ilesh bhai, would you not get us to drink tea today?)
It was in New Zealand that Sara started to speak. She said her first nursery rhyme in the course of this tour and each word she said made me feel immensely fulfilled and delighted.
A painful series
While I was gradually adjusting to the responsibilities of fatherhood, I suffered my first serious injury, a back problem from which I took more than eight months to fully recover. The problem surfaced in Chennai at the end of January 1999 during the first Test against Pakistan.
Pakistan had come to India after a gap of thirteen years and the entire country was focused on the two-Test series and the Asian Test Championship involving India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka that was to follow. Pakistan had a versatile bowling attack, with Wasim Akram, Waqar Younis and the off-spinner Saqlain Mushtaq, leg-spinner Shahid Afridi and slow left-arm orthodox spinner Nadeem Khan all in good form, and there was no doubt it would be a keenly contested series.
The Chennai match lived up to the hype and after three days of gripping Test cricket, India were left with a target of 271 in the fourth innings. It was a difficult run chase, as Wasim and Waqar started out very well for Pakistan, reducing us to 6–2 on the third evening. I walked out with just under an hour left on the third day, with Wasim and Waqar still charging in and full of energy. Rahul was already out there and we knew we needed to see out the rest of the day and resume battle the following morning. These little sessions are always tricky because the bowling side know they can come back refreshed the next morning and so they throw everything at the batsmen, in the hope of getting a bonus wicket. For the batting team there’s little to be gained and the priority is not to lose another wicket.
Waqar welcomed me to the crease with a couple of bouncers and even walked up to me on one occasion to say, ‘Ball nazar aayi?’ (Did you see the ball?) I didn’t say a thing, but my eye contact was enough to give him the message. I hardly moved and he was soon walking back to his bowling mark. I remember muttering to myself, ‘You are not bowling that quick, my friend.’ This exchange only helped to strengthen my resolve and I was unbeaten on 20 at the end of play, determined to win the Test match on the fourth day.
Rahul was not out at the other end and there are not many other players you would rather bat with in a situation like that. He has always been rock solid. The next morning, however, the usual script was torn up when Rahul was bowled by a beauty from Wasim. Azhar soon followed and when Sourav got out we were down to 82–5 and badly needed a partnership.
When Nayan Mongia came out to join me in the middle I asked him to be patient and just play himself in. With the cream of our batting back in the dressing room, I realized it was time for me to take charge. I was fully focused on the job at hand and had gone into a zone where I was praying before each ball was bowled. Even when Nayan was on strike I was rehearsing in my mind how I’d have played the balls bowled to him. In effect, I was trying to bat at both ends. As I concentrated really hard, everything else around me seemed a blur and all I knew was that I had to bat through to the end of the game.
And then the pain struck. It was forty-five minutes before tea when I felt a scorching pain in my back. By now Nayan and I had put together a good partnership and the game was starting to tilt ever so slightly towards India. But Pakistan had yet to take the new ball and I knew we still had a fair amount of work to do. Wasim and Waqar would give their best in one final burst. The hot and humid conditions in Chennai were harsh and I was starting to suffer from cramp. Playing each ball was turning out to be an ordeal and the pain in my back was becoming unbearable. The tea break came as a blessed relief. I remember lying flat on a towel in the dressing room with cold towels spread all over me to bring down my body temperature. My whole body was cramping up and I knew it was going to be really difficult to bat for two more hours.
After tea I had no choice but to attack the bowling, because I knew my back was about to give up. I informed Nayan of the change in strategy and hit a few boundaries in the next few overs. Soon the target was down to manageable proportions and we just needed to play out the second new ball. We had put on 136 runs for the sixth wicket and Pakistan were gradually losing their grip on the match. In fact, we were cruising along when Nayan got out to a bad shot. He tried a slog to a Wasim delivery and top-edged the ball in the process. There was no need to play that shot and it had once again given Pakistan a ray of hope. It was a sad end to a very good innings from Nayan.
Sunil Joshi, who came in next, settled well and even hit a six off Saqlain during his forty-minute stay at the wicket. We made 36 in the six overs after Nayan got out and the target was now just 17 runs away. In the meantime my back had all but given up on me and I was finding it difficult to stand up straight. Every movement was hurting and every shot increased the pain. I soon realized that all-out attack was my only option. Unable to bear the pain any longer, I tried to hit a Saqlain doosra – the off-spinner’s delivery that goes the other way from normal after pitching, a ball that Saqlain was the first to master – over mid off for another boundary. The ball bounced more than expected and I ended up top-edging the ball. I could see Wasim getting under the ball at mid off and was praying for him to drop the catch. But I was out for 136 and was devastated.
It was a painful walk back to the pavilion. Even the standing ovation from the crowd did little to alleviate the pain at not having finished the match. However, I must say that I really did not expect us to lose the match from there, with just 17 runs to get and three wickets, including Srinath and Kumble, still left. In fact, I couldn’t believe what was happening when we were bowled out for 258 and lost by 12 runs. My world seemed to collapse around me and I just couldn’t hold back the tears in the dressing room. My back was in horrible shape and mentally I was at a serious low.
It was the only time in my life when I didn’t go out to receive the Man of the Match award. Raj Singh Dungarpur tried to persuade me but I said to him that I was in no state, physically or mentally, to leave the dressing room. He understood and left me to myself. Even when we were leaving for Delhi the next morning, I couldn’t even carry my hand luggage. It was as if someone was sticking needles into my back all the time and I couldn’t sit in one position for more than two or three minutes.
In hindsight, I should not have played the Delhi and Kolkata Test matches that followed, but my urge to play against Pakistan drove me on. I had told the BCCI all about my physical condition and they had left it up to me whether to play or not and at the time I felt I would be able push myself.
The second Test, starting in Delhi on 4 February 1999, was very much Anil Kumble’s match and it was his world-record spell of 10–74 in the second innings that helped us level the series. Anil has won many Test matches for India and he was unplayable at the Kotla in Delhi, as he became only the second bowler in the history of Test cricket, after Jim Laker in 1956, to pick up all ten wickets in an innings. In Pakistan’s second innings I handed Anil’s sweater and cap to umpire Arani Jayaprakash before every over he bowled. It worked well for us and there was no reason to change the pattern. It seems incredible to think that Anil singlehandedly won us a Test match against Pakistan, but he certainly did.
The two-Test series was followed by the Asian Test Championship and India played Pakistan in the inaugural match of this new competition at Eden Gardens in Kolkata, which started on 16 February. Many looked upon it as the third and deciding leg of the bilateral series. I remember the match for the way I was run out in the second innings. Chasing 279 for victory, we were well placed at 134–2 when I walked out to bat. I was in the process of playing myself in when I clipped a Wasim delivery past wide mid on. The ball was finally pulled up yards from the rope by the substitute fielder Nadeem Khan. I was jogging to the crea
se for an easy third run when the throw came in on the full to hit the stumps. Despite the direct hit, I would have been well in if I hadn’t collided with Shoaib Akhtar. Shoaib, who was fielding at mid off, had come forward to back up the throw and was standing a few yards behind the stumps, right in my line of running. I could not comprehend why he was standing there rather than right behind the stumps. With my eyes on the ball, I collided with him moments after I had run my bat in. As a result of the collision, my bat was in the air when the ball hit the stumps.
While not imputing any motive to Shoaib, I must say I was shocked to see the Pakistanis appeal for the run-out. The crowd, sensing the injustice, turned violent and started throwing things onto the ground. After walking off, finding it difficult to come to terms with the incident, I went straight to the third umpire’s room to check the replay and was dismayed to see what had really happened.
Because of the crowd disturbance, the match had to be stopped for a good twenty minutes, and finally Jagmohan Dalmiya, then president of the ICC and one of India’s most distinguished administrators, came to our dressing room to ask if I would go out and pacify the crowd. I didn’t really feel like it, because I felt wronged, but I changed my mind to ensure there was no further violence at Eden Gardens. It was only after Jagmohan Dalmiya and I appealed to the crowd that the match was finally allowed to resume.
Playing It My Way: My Autobiography Page 17