"First man on the planet to reach 200 and it's the superman from India", croaked Ravi Shastri at the culmination of something very special on Feb 25th 2010.
An underdog is someone at a disadvantage, and expected to lose. And Tendulkar and Superman, will remain underdogs, no matter what they do. Because to 'win', they'll have to perform a miracle greater than their previous miracles. The expectations of His fans are to defeat Lex Luthor's bowling attack at Kryptonitic pitches, save the world, and look cool while doing it. He's a magician pulling a rabbit out of His hat, and the bemused fans calling out for a; 'Blue Whale. Pull out a Blue Whale'.
His detractors are pure blind, but perhaps His fans are worse. Nothing will ever be good enough for them. A solid half century doesn't even elicit an applause anymore. He has to break a world record at least. Or go on and score four hundreds on the trot. Or make a double hundred in an ODI. And that, even that, isnt enough for us. So desperately do we want Him to be God to us.
And it is something beyond batting skills. Others too have shown that brilliance in skill. It is something beyond scintillating stroke play as well. Sehwag scores quicker, made two 300s, and has reached 300 with a six. But we dont want him to be God. Dravid's fight and work ethics have been and will remain an inspiration to India's professional middle class. But we dont want him to be God either.
It is something beyond; much, much beyond. So that there is a knot in our stomachs every time He's on strike. And that knot goes away only when He remains safe after facing each ball. And every boundary He hits is a personal victory, but more importantly, every time He gets out, its a loss much more personal than India losing a match. Why is that? Why is His slightest imperfection so personally relevant, so violently affecting to us?
Tell me how often have we wanted to punch someone brutally when he's criticized or spoken against Him? I reckon thats more of faith and devotion than just fan following.
Maybe, but for my generation the answer has something to do with the visuals we grew up with. Dealing with all the crap that teenage brings along, the visuals were of a short, and at that time, thin, fellow who stood alone against Goliaths of every nature imaginable and faced them with all grit and came back with more than just His and His team's dignity restored. Our meagre cares and concerns paled in comparison, when He defeated the strongest team in the world amidst a crumbling middle order, required run rates sky rocketing like hopes and a sandstorm thrown in for good measure. That was 12 years ago, but I doubt anybody who was privileged enough to witness it, will ever forget it. For, as much as we wanted Him to do it, there was a part of us always paralyzed with the fear that He will get out the next ball. But in those two matches and throughout two decades He kept the hope alive, in face of that fear, when there was every reason to lose it. Sounds pretty God-like to me.
Looking back at His career stats there is no doubt he is in the middle of the purplest patch of his cricketing life. Post the disastrous 2007 World Cup campaign, He has comeback with vengeance at his detractors and is slowly rattling a few world records (those few which are left) & taking the team to greater heights.
