The sense of outrage, however, was still there and the crowd turned violent again the following morning, resulting in unreal scenes towards the end of the match. In an unprecedented move, 65,000 people were forced to vacate the stadium and the match was completed without a single spectator inside the ground. Perhaps it could all have been avoided if Shoaib had not stood in my way or if Wasim had withdrawn the appeal.
India lost the Test match by 46 runs and the way the match ended left us all feeling rather bitter.
Losing my father
Continuing to play on with my back injury had unfortunately aggravated the problem. As a result, I played the World Cup in England in May and June 1999 in considerable physical discomfort. But the World Cup was not a tournament I could miss and I did all I could to get ready. Every time I trained, my back would get stiff and I would need a cooling-off period for it to settle down. The fickle English weather did not help matters and I was advised to sleep on the floor of the hotel room with a pillow below my knee, to make sure that my back was flat on the ground. In time, I learnt to sleep in the tiny gap between the bed and the cupboard in most hotel rooms, which ensured there wasn’t much space for me to toss and turn.
Ajit, Anjali and Sara were all in England before the World Cup and that was a great comfort. We would go out for meals together and it was during one of these dinners at a Chinese restaurant that I ordered crispy aromatic duck. I just love to eat this dish served with thin pancakes and sliced cucumber and can finish a portion on my own. However, just as I placed my order, Ajit asked me to cancel it. He declared that he would not allow me to eat duck before the World Cup. While I found it amusing at first, I soon realized he was serious and felt obliged to do what he wanted. When I asked him his reasons, he said he had read an article which said that three English players had once gone out for a meal before a very important match and they had all had duck for dinner. Subsequently each one got out without scoring. Of course, in cricket a ‘duck’ is associated with a batsman scoring zero and on the Australian television coverage a duck is even shown accompanying a batsman back to the pavilion if he gets out without scoring. Ajit said to me I could have as much duck as I wanted once the World Cup was over!
Just before the tournament started Anjali decided to go back to London, leaving me to focus solely on my cricket. In the second trimester of her pregnancy and with one-and-a-half-year-old Sara with her, it must have been immensely difficult for her to negotiate things on her own. While I missed her badly and desperately wanted to be with her to help out, there was little I could do but appreciate what she was doing for me and the family.
It was in the middle of all this that I received the news of my father’s passing. Ajit, who had gone back to India by then, called Anjali to tell her what had happened and asked her to break the news to me personally. Anjali in turn called two of my team-mates, Robin Singh and Ajay Jadeja, and asked them to be outside my room as she drove back to the team hotel in Leicester very late at night on 18 May – the day before our second match of the tournament, against Zimbabwe. She also called the hotel manager and asked him not to transfer any calls to my room.
When I opened the door at well past midnight and saw her standing with Ajay and Robin I immediately sensed something serious had happened. Atul Ranade, one of my closest friends, was with me in my room and I asked Atul to go out as Anjali came in. I could not believe what she was saying. It was a cruel blow and not something I had expected at all. It left me numb for a few minutes. I could not say a thing. Father had always been there for me. My mind had stopped working and all I could do was hold Anjali and cry. I felt helpless and was unable to come to terms with the shock for a while.
My first thought was to go back to India at the earliest opportunity to be with my mother and see my father one final time. Mark Mascarenhas, as always, had already made all the arrangements for the following morning and drove the two of us to Heathrow just before dawn. All through the journey I kept thinking about my father, who had been in reasonable health when I had left India for the World Cup. In fact, I couldn’t believe he was not alive and felt that if I went back to India he would open his eyes again. He had undergone angioplasty a few months earlier and had stayed with us, so that Anjali could take care of him. By the time I left for the World Cup, he seemed back to his normal self and had even started to climb three floors. The doctors had asked him to have a drink every evening and I made a point of coming home most evenings to share a drink with him. In my wildest dreams I had never imagined that I would be sharing a drink with my father, but medical advice had forced me to do so. The thought that I would never see him again was just too much to digest.
My brothers and friends had come to pick me up at Mumbai airport but this was a very different homecoming from normal. When I got home I could see that my mother had aged considerably in the past few days and was sitting facing the wall. She hardly said a word to anyone and was in a state of shock. I felt devastated to see my mother like that and what was more worrying was that she did not move from her position for close to two days. It became unbearable when I came face to face with my grandmother, who had lost her son. She said to me that she wanted to spend a few quiet minutes with him and I immediately asked all who were present to leave us alone for a while. I accompanied my grandmother to the room where my father’s body was lying, then left her to mourn with her son in peace. I remember standing a good few yards away, giving her the space she needed.
I couldn’t sleep for many nights having lost my biggest inspiration. And it was a deeply emotional moment for all of us when the watchmen, postmen and all the other people he had helped during his life came over for his funeral. I put a gold coin with my face on it in his pocket before the cremation, so that I could always be there with him.
Without my father, my life would never be the same again.
A very difficult tournament
After spending four days in India, I returned to England to rejoin the team on the eve of the match against Kenya. That, it seemed to me, was what my father would have wanted me to do, and that’s what prompted the decision to return to London to play the remaining World Cup matches. Mentally, however, I was not at my best throughout the tournament. I had to wear dark glasses during the practice sessions, because at times I could not hold back my tears. Though I managed to score a hundred in the match against Kenya – which remains one of my most cherished centuries, one I dedicated to my father – my mind was not always on the game.
The back injury, which had not shown any signs of improvement, also continued to bother me throughout the rest of the World Cup, helping to make it one of the toughest tournaments I have played in. It wasn’t India’s best World Cup either and we were knocked out in the Super Six stage after winning a couple of memorable matches against Sri Lanka and England at the group stage.
Against Sri Lanka at Taunton on 26 May 1999, Sourav and Rahul played two of the finest innings I have seen in a World Cup. Sourav was at his elegant best on his way to a majestic 183 and Rahul played beautifully for his 145. In our next match against England on 29 May, Sourav yet again made a significant all-round contribution, to give us a much-needed win, and Rahul was consistent right through the tournament.
At the Super Six stage our only consolation was another win against Pakistan. The match had assumed great significance against the backdrop of strained political relations between the two countries – the war in Kargil in Kashmir was on at the time. India won the highly charged encounter by 47 runs, with Venkatesh Prasad picking up a five-wicket haul.
An unexpected appointment
The back pain continued to bother me after the World Cup and in fact turned worse in the twin tournaments in Sri Lanka and Singapore in August–September 1999, at the end of which I decided to go to Australia to get my back examined. I had already resorted to acupuncture and acupressure – and even had my tongue pricked by an expert in Singapore trying to identify the pressure
points that might help in the recovery. They were the acts of an increasingly desperate man.
Dr Anant Joshi, one of India’s leading doctors and one who has always been there for me right through my career, travelled with me to Adelaide in September 1999 to meet a number of specialists. A series of checks were conducted and I eventually received four injections for the injury. I was glad I could not see the injections at the time because afterwards I realized I had never seen bigger needles in my life. I actually carried one back to show my friends and family and nobody could believe the size of them. But they did the job, and soon after my return to India the back injury that had bothered me for eight months was finally sorted. It was certainly a relief to be pain-free.
My determination was even greater because in August 1999 I had been appointed captain of India again, despite having deep reservations about taking on the job for a second time. What happened was that Ajit Wadekar had come to my house to ask me if I was prepared to captain India again and I told him that I was reluctant to do so. The next I heard was that I had been appointed captain ahead of a tri-series in Sri Lanka in August. It appears that Wadekar Sir had come over to speak to me on behalf of the BCCI and it was after consultation with him that the selectors had decided to give me the responsibility, despite my unwillingness. Once the appointment was made public it was difficult for me to turn it down. I have never ducked a challenge and I went on to accept the job, determined to give it my best. We were due to tour Australia at the end of the year and I knew it was the toughest assignment in cricket at the time.
A new arrival
All of this coincided with the birth of our second child, when Anjali and I were blessed with a baby boy on 24 September 1999. I decided to name him Arjun and remember announcing my intention to Anjali soon after I had seen my son for the first time. She later mentioned to me that she had thought of a few other names herself but, seeing my enthusiasm for Arjun, went ahead with my choice. Once again I filmed the day and I cherish the recording of Arjun being brought out to me for the first time.
Watching the children grow up is a fantastic feeling and I must say I missed them every time I was away from them. With Arjun it was particularly hard. He would resent my going away and would refuse to speak to me on the phone. For the first six years of his life Arjun never talked to me when I was on tour. In my desperation to hear his voice I often requested Anjali to ask him to say hello, but he would always refuse. Then, on my return, he would cling to me for the first three days, trying to make up for lost time.
While Sara did not seem to resent my going in the same way as Arjun, she did find it difficult on occasions to bond with me on my return. Sara was just a few months old when I had to travel to Sri Lanka for a tour. It was extremely hot in Colombo and I returned home with quite a tan at the end of the assignment. I had turned really dark and she didn’t recognize me. She thought someone else had walked in and she refused to go near me for the first few minutes!
When I had my kids at the turn of the century, technology was not as advanced as now and there was no option to use Skype or FaceTime. Had the technology been available, I’m sure I would have asked Anjali to bring Sara and Arjun in front of the webcam so that I could at least see my kids when I was off in some other part of the world. It would have meant not missing out on so many of the changes they went through.
New Zealand in India, October–November 1999
After a couple of weeks at home following Arjun’s birth, I was back on the field at Mohali on 10 October captaining India against New Zealand in the first of three Tests. Just like the first time, the start to my captaincy was not too bad, as we beat New Zealand in the series, though we made it hard for ourselves in the very first innings at Mohali when we were bowled out for 83, with Dion Nash taking six wickets. It was just one of those days when nothing worked and we collapsed for one of our lowest ever scores on home soil. It seemed as if the ghost of Barbados was back to haunt me. This time, however, our bowlers did a good job restricting the Kiwis to 215 and we batted with a lot more discipline in the second innings. We scored 505, losing just three wickets, with both Rahul and me scoring hundreds, and the game ended in a draw.
The second innings, however, was not without incident. Chris Cairns, the New Zealand all-rounder, bowled a spell of excellent reverse swing. Part of the problem for Rahul and me was that he concealed the shiny side of the ball so well that there was no way for the batsman to work out which way the ball would swing. That’s when I came up with a plan. I suggested to Rahul that while it was impossible for the striker, it was not so difficult for the non-striker to work it out as he was far closer to Cairns. It was decided that while standing at the non-striker’s end, I would spot the shiny side and if it was on the outside of the ball, I would hold my bat in my left hand to indicate to Rahul that the ball would swing away from him. If the shiny side was on the inside, I would hold my bat in my right hand to indicate that the ball would be coming in to him. And if I was not able to figure out which way the ball would swing, I would hold my bat in the middle.
The plan worked surprisingly well and soon we were able to attack Cairns, who ended up going for 76 runs in his twenty-four overs without picking up a wicket. It took a while for Cairns to work out what we were doing. To catch us unawares, he decided to bowl a cross-seam delivery, so I held my bat in the middle to indicate to Rahul that I didn’t know which way the ball would swing. Soon after delivering the ball, Cairns turned towards me to see what I was doing. He was angry and frustrated and wanted to know how I had reacted to him bowling a cross-seam delivery. Winning this battle against Chris Cairns definitely helped us save the match.
In the second Test match, at Kanpur, we beat New Zealand comprehensively, with Kumble picking up ten wickets in the game, and in the final Test at Ahmedabad I scored a double hundred in a drawn encounter. At Ahmedabad we scored a mammoth 583 runs in the first innings and, despite bowling the opposition out for 308, did not enforce the follow-on. This was a unanimous decision taken in consultation with the fast bowlers, who were tired after an exhausting first-innings effort and needed some rest before they bowled again. We won the series 1–0 and then went on to win the ODI series 3–2. It may not have been ideal preparation for the tour to Australia that started at the end of the month, but a series win never does any harm.
India in Australia, November 1999–January 2000
During my second stint as captain we had Kapil Dev as our coach. He is one of the finest cricketers to have played for India and one of the best all-rounders of all time, and I had great expectations of him in Australia. I have always maintained that the coach’s job is an important one, for he is in a position to play a key role in formulating team strategy. Who better than Kapil to come up with options for me during a tough tour of Australia? However, his method of involvement and his thought process was limited to leaving the running of the team to the captain, and hence he did not involve himself in strategic discussions that would help us on the field.
Things did not start badly for us in Australia. Unlike in South Africa in 1996–97, we reached Australia a good two weeks before the series started and played three practice games before the first Test. All in all, we weren’t underprepared when we walked onto the field at the Adelaide Oval on 10 December 1999, and if the first morning was anything to go by, we were in with a good chance against the best team in the world.
Javagal Srinath and Venkatesh Prasad bowled extremely well to reduce Australia to 52–4 before lunch and we needed just one more wicket to get into the Australian lower middle order. We almost had that wicket in the form of the always dangerous Ricky Ponting, but he was given not out to a very close lbw shout early in his innings. He escaped again when he clearly under-edged a ball from Ajit Agarkar to the wicketkeeper MSK Prasad when on 62 but was again not adjudged out. Australia were still not out of the woods at that stage and that could well have been the opening we were looking for. However, luck was with
Ponting on the day and he and Steve Waugh both went on to make big hundreds.
When it was our turn to bat, I faced a probing spell from Glenn McGrath towards the end of the day’s play, playing out five or six maiden overs in the process. Some people may have wondered why I allowed McGrath to bowl those maidens and why I was not playing my natural game, but Test cricket is all about getting into the mind of the opposition. After that passage of play, the Australians changed their tactics, and later Shane Warne told me that I had forced them to make the change. The Australian plan, I was told, was to make me leave 70 per cent of the deliveries in each innings. But with me playing out the maiden overs, they realized that attempts to frustrate me wouldn’t work. The next morning, I changed my strategy and hit McGrath for two boundaries in the first over.
In this Test match we were at the receiving end of what seemed to us to be a howler from umpire Daryl Harper. Sourav and I had embarked on a good fightback and I had scored 61. The team score was at 215–4 and another hundred runs could have helped set up the match, but just as we were looking to consolidate, Daryl Harper gave me out bat-pad to Shane Warne, caught by Justin Langer at forward short leg. I was sure I hadn’t hit the ball. Warne had pitched the delivery on my legs and the ball simply hit the pad before being caught by Langer. In the second innings I felt I was unlucky again. Glenn McGrath tried to bounce one at me but the ball actually stayed low. I instinctively ducked and it hit me on my shoulder. To everyone’s surprise, umpire Harper declared me out lbw. It was a strange decision, because there was surely no way it would have gone on to hit the stumps.
While I’m not trying to excuse our under-par performance, there’s no doubt that those decisions played a huge role in such a hard-fought Test match. To Australia’s credit, they capitalized on the opportunities and went 1–0 up as a result. In the second and third Tests of the series, however, we were comprehensively outplayed. Even when VVS Laxman produced a magical 167 in Sydney in the third Test, something that prompted me to ask the selectors to keep him back for the ODI series that followed, the result was never in doubt. McGrath and Brett Lee, who made his debut in the series, were exceptional and had great back-up in Damien Fleming and Shane Warne. We were never allowed to take charge and there’s no harm in conceding that Steve Waugh’s Australian team in 1999 was one of the best teams I ever played against.
Playing It My Way: My Autobiography Page 18