Playing It My Way: My Autobiography

by Sachin Tendulkar

  I was distraught. We had done everything we could to win the match and here we were being deprived by the rain. I felt cheated by the forces of nature. I went to the umpires as soon as the rain stopped and said we were ready to play even if the outfield was a little wet, but they were within their rights to say that they couldn’t permit a restart unless the conditions were fit to play. The Test series ended 2–0 in favour of South Africa, but that scoreline didn’t reveal just how close we had been to making it 2–1. It left me disconsolate and in my disappointment I locked myself in the bathroom and just cried.

  The other disappointment in this match was that VVS Laxman, then a youngster, fractured his finger and was faced with having to go back to India. Distressed, Laxman was sitting in one corner of the dressing room in tears. I tried to console him, saying that injuries happen, but that he shouldn’t worry too much about them as he had a long career ahead of him. In hindsight it was a prophetic statement!

  India in the West Indies, March–April 1997

  India had not won a series in the Caribbean since 1971 and I looked on this tour as a major opportunity to leave the disappointment of South Africa behind. The conditions were different again from those in South Africa, and we needed to adjust quickly. However, our preparations suffered a serious jolt when Srinath, our leading fast bowler, was ruled out of the tour because he needed shoulder surgery. Abey Kuruvilla, a tall fast-medium bowler from Mumbai, performed admirably as his replacement, but the situation illustrates a very serious problem I faced in South Africa and subsequently in the Caribbean.

  On tours like that, I believed we really needed three quality fast bowlers but unfortunately I never had more than two. In South Africa, Abey Kuruvilla was not even part of the squad. Even when I was desperate to have him, the selectors refused to include him. After making his Ranji Trophy debut in 1991, Abey had played five seasons of first-class cricket by then and would have been a handy bowler in South Africa. As it was, after good opening spells from both Srinath and Prasad, we failed to sustain the momentum. In the West Indies, we would once again rue the absence of a quality third seamer.

  Despite losing Srinath, we played well enough in the first two Tests in March 1997, at Sabina Park and Port-of-Spain. Both matches ended in hard-fought draws and for once it seemed that we had managed to adjust to the conditions, with our batting looking solid against the West Indian pace quartet of Curtly Ambrose, Mervyn Dillon, Ian Bishop and Franklyn Rose. By the time we went to Barbados for the third match of the five-Test series on 27 March, I was feeling confident that we could do something special.

  We started well at the Kensington Oval and managed to bowl out the West Indians for under 300, thanks to some fine bowling from Venkatesh Prasad, with 5–82, and despite a Shivnarine Chanderpaul century. As I write this, Chanderpaul has now played more than 150 Test matches in his career. He has been one of the most consistent middle-order batsmen for the West Indies for close to two decades, which is remarkable. We followed up the bowling with a good batting effort and managed a small first-innings lead. I scored 92 and was wrongly given out to an Ian Bishop delivery by umpire Lloyd Barker. Replays showed that Bishop had overstepped by at least four inches and it was a key moment in the match. As things turned out, Lloyd Barker wasn’t able to officiate for much of the match after that because – as I was told by the stand-in umpire who replaced him – he had had to go to hospital with a serious headache and couldn’t focus properly.

  In the second innings our bowlers did well to dismiss the West Indies for 140 on the third day of the match. This time Abey Kuruvilla picked up 5–68 and we needed 120 runs to win, on a pitch that was increasingly uneven, with plenty of wear and tear for the West Indian fast bowlers to exploit. We picked up two of those runs without loss in the few overs we had to see out at the end of Sunday’s play. On that track we knew that scoring would not be easy the next day, but we also felt that one good partnership should be enough to take us to victory.

  A humiliating collapse

  Monday 31 March 1997 was a dark day in the history of Indian cricket and definitely the worst of my captaincy career. And yet it had promised so much. In fact, over dinner at a restaurant in St Lawrence Gap in Barbados the night before, I remember having a joke with the waiter, who was predicting a West Indian win. He was confident that Ambrose would bounce India out the next morning. Now, in the first innings of this match, Franklyn Rose had bowled me a bouncer and I had pulled him into the stands for six. So I reminded the waiter of the shot and jokingly said to him that if Ambrose tried to bowl me a bouncer, I would hit him all the way to Antigua. I was so confident of our chances that I pointed to the fridge and said he should immediately chill a bottle of champagne and I would come and open it the next day and pour him a glass to celebrate winning the match.

  Instead, we collapsed for a miserable 81 all out, handing the West Indies a 38-run victory. Frankly, there can be no excuses for such a poor batting effort, even though it was a difficult track. I certainly don’t want to point fingers at anyone for the defeat, as that’s not my way. In any case, I was part of that team and as captain it was my responsibility to steer us to victory. I did not get the feeling that we were over-confident, yet none of the batsmen apart from Laxman even reached double figures in the second innings and it was one of the worst batting displays I have been part of.

  I myself got out for just four. In my anxiety to get a feel for the ball I got a tentative edge. I should either have left the ball alone or tried to counter-attack. The defeat left me totally devastated and I shut myself in my room for two whole days trying to come to terms with the loss. I still feel the pangs of that defeat when I look back at the series.

  From bad to worse

  After eventually losing the five-Test series 0–1, we went on to lose the ODI series as well. The good start to the tour had given way to a complete lack of application and that proved catastrophic in the end. The best example of this ineptitude was the third one-day game, at St Vincent, where we needed 47 runs to win off the last ten overs with six wickets in hand. Rahul and Sourav had set up the platform and we should have strolled to victory. Again and again I instructed the batsmen not to go for big shots and to play along the ground, saying there was no need for any risk-taking with the asking rate under five runs an over. However, all our middle- and lower-order batsmen kept playing the ball in the air. The loss of a few wickets resulted in panic, which in turn led to a number of suicidal run-outs. It was infuriating to see the team lose from a winning situation.

  At the end of the match I called a team meeting and lost my cool with the boys in the dressing room. I spoke from my heart and said the performance was unacceptable. I said that losing matches in which the opposition play better cricket is one thing – I had no problem with such defeats – but losing a match that we had completely under control suggested there was something seriously wrong with the team.

  I was extremely upset with the way we were playing and both Anil and Srinath came to my room in the evening to try and calm me down. Anil said that I should not blame myself for the defeats and that we would learn from the mistakes we had made in South Africa and the West Indies. However, things were really starting to get on top of me. I hated losing and as captain of the team I felt responsible for the string of miserable performances. More worryingly, I did not know how I could turn it around, as I was already trying my absolute best.

  Not long after the series was over, I confided in Anjali that I feared there was nothing more that I could do to stem the tide of defeats. Losing a string of very close matches had left me badly scarred. I had given it everything and was not sure that I could give even 0.1 per cent more. The fact that we failed to chase down 120 had nothing to do with lack of talent. It was because we batted horribly on the day. It was hurting me badly and it took me a long time to come to terms with these failures. I even contemplated moving away from the sport completely, as it seemed nothing was going my way. Anj
ali, as usual, managed to put things in perspective and assured me that things would surely get better in the months to come. Looking back, it was just frustration getting the better of me.

  The final few months

  The string of defeats came to a temporary halt when we drew a two-Test series in Sri Lanka in August 1997 and then beat Pakistan 4–1 in the Sahara Cup, a one-day series in Toronto, in September. The tournament was memorable because Sahara had not only lent their name as sponsors but senior officials like Abhijit Sarkar were personally there to ensure that everything was in order and players felt comfortable. This win was all the more satisfying because we played without Srinath, Prasad and Anil Kumble, and we had a young bowling unit. Sourav Ganguly was the star performer for us in the series, winning four Man of the Match awards on the trot.

  There was one rather strange incident during the second match of this series involving Inzamam-ul-Haq. While it appears funny in hindsight, it wasn’t at the time. During one of the drinks breaks when we were batting, having bowled Pakistan out for 116, one of the Pakistan players who wasn’t playing in the match took out a bat for Inzamam – to the great surprise of those of us watching from the dressing room. We initially thought he was taking the bat out to get it autographed; only later did we realize that Inzamam wanted it in order to charge at a few fans in the crowd who were taunting him because of his physique!

  When we came back from Toronto to Delhi, there were more than 5000 fans to receive us at one thirty in the morning at Delhi airport. The police were finding it difficult to control the crowd but I insisted that the team should wave to the fans before we left the airport. It was a grand homecoming. However, the satisfaction of beating Pakistan was short-lived, because within weeks we had lost a three-match ODI series in Pakistan.

  In the second game, which we won, I remember telling our off-spinner Rajesh Chauhan how to play Saqlain Mushtaq’s doosra ball. I gave him a mini-lecture for five minutes or so and told him to give the strike to Robin Singh, who was batting well at the other end. To my surprise, Rajesh ended up hitting a six in the last over and won us the game! However, we didn’t really celebrate, as there were armed guards outside our hotel rooms for security reasons, something that made us uncomfortable and put a dampener on things. The deciding match of the series belonged to Ijaz Ahmed, who smashed our bowlers to all parts of the park on his way to 139, winning the game for Pakistan comfortably.

  When we got back to Delhi this time having lost the series 1–2, the fans who had queued up just weeks earlier were nowhere to be seen. To cap it all, I also remember that those of us who were flying on to Mumbai were asked to pay excess baggage. I told my team-mates that we should just pay up and not argue.

  The defeat in Pakistan added to the pressure that was building on me and an incident from the home Test series against Sri Lanka in November–December 1997 perhaps gives an indication of how I was feeling at the time. As captain, I was expected to deliver a winning performance in the three-Test contest. I had not done well as a batsman in the first two Tests, both of which ended in draws. To add to my misery, the second Test at Nagpur was a washout. A section of the media was having a go at me before the third Test in Mumbai, which started on 3 December 1997, and a lot was written about my poor form. It was a crunch situation and I needed to deliver both as batsman and captain.

  On the first day I went in to bat with an hour left and was unbeaten on eight at the end of play. I had not batted at my best but at least I had survived. As the overnight not-out batsman, I needed to rest but as has often been the case with me, I couldn’t sleep. By 10.30 p.m. I had started to feel very agitated. To get out of the stifling environment of the hotel, I called my friend Atul Ranade and asked him over. When he arrived I told him that I wanted to go for a drive and to visit the Shivaji Park temple.

  It felt good praying at well past midnight. It gave me a sense of calm again and helped take my mind off the game. Then we went to the Siddhi Vinayak temple and finally, on our way back to the hotel, decided to have a milkshake at Haji Ali. Strange as it may sound, Atul and I sat on the roadside at 1 a.m. drinking milkshake and relaxing. We talked about anything but cricket and I was feeling much better when I went back to the hotel. I even managed to get some sleep and the following day I made 148.

  Unfortunately it didn’t bring the win I needed, even though at one point we were in a great position. At a crucial moment in the innings we dropped a catch which would have put them under tremendous pressure. To add to our frustration, it also started drizzling and the game was stopped. I felt it was a combination of missed chances and bad luck that cost us the match.

  The Sri Lanka series was followed by a four-nation tournament in Sharjah in December 1997. We played some very poor cricket against England, Pakistan and the West Indies, losing all our matches and failing to make the final. The match against Pakistan on 14 December highlights how things were just not going my way. I was batting at number four in this competition, at the selectors’ request. Sourav and Navjot Sidhu had given us a good start against Pakistan, and when Sidhu got out at 143–2, I sent in Robin Singh, the all-rounder, to accelerate the innings. It was a strategy I had given considerable thought to. Manzoor Akhtar, the leg-spinner, was at one end bowling around the wicket to the right-handed batsmen. The theory was that Robin, a left-hander, would be able to negotiate his leg-spin better and also hit some big shots. However, Robin got out without scoring after just three balls from Azhar Mahmood, the medium-pacer, and the experiment proved a disaster.

  In the press I was criticized for sending in Robin ahead of me and the move was blamed for our defeat. A month later, however, in January 1998, Azhar, back as captain, repeated the very same move in the final of the Silver Jubilee Independence Cup in Dhaka against Pakistan. Robin was sent in at three to keep up the momentum after Sourav and I had got off to a flier and this time Robin played a terrific hand, scoring 82 and setting up the run chase. This was arguably a bigger gamble, because he was pitted against the off-spinner Saqlain Mushtaq and it is no secret that left-handers find it more difficult against off-spinners. The same experiment was now hailed as a master stroke. Not without reason is it said that success has many fathers while defeat is an orphan.

  The Sharjah losses were followed by a three-match ODI series against Sri Lanka at home. After we’d taken a 1–0 lead in the series, the second match was a washout and Sri Lanka played well to beat us in the third game in Goa. At the end of the series I was unceremoniously sacked as skipper. No one from the BCCI managed to call me or inform me of my removal as captain before someone from the media called to say I was no longer captain. I was actually with my friends in Sahitya Sahawas. I felt extremely humiliated to hear this, but the manner in which the whole thing was handled strengthened my resolve to be a better cricketer in the years to come. I told myself that the BCCI mandarins might be able to take the captaincy away from me, but no one could do the same as far as my own cricket was concerned. The sense of ignominy and the pain were still there, however. During my tenure as captain some of the players used to call me ‘skip’, so when one of the players shouted out ‘skipper’ in our next engagement in Dhaka, I automatically turned around to answer the call. That’s when it really hit me that I was no longer the captain of the Indian cricket team. Now I simply had to focus on my batting and win some matches for the team. So that’s what I did. In fact, not long after this, I was so focused on doing well that I ended up shouting at someone who has since become a good friend. This incident, which has caused us both much embarrassment, took place in the second of the three finals of the Silver Jubilee Independence Cup in Dhaka in 1998. There was a lot of movement in front of and around the sightscreen and, despite my repeated complaints, things did not improve. I was distracted and lost my wicket soon after. On my way back to the pavilion I was livid and, when someone came across to apologize, I just screamed at him, saying Bangladesh did not deserve to host international cricket if the basic funda
mentals were not in place. Only later did I realize that the man I had yelled at was Ashraful Haq, then president of the Bangladesh Cricket Board and currently chief executive of the Asian Cricket Council. Ever since, whenever we meet, we start by saying sorry to each other for what happened!

  * * *

  Australia in India 1996 – The Border-Gavaskar Trophy

  One-off Test. Delhi. 10–13 October 1996

  Australia 182 (MJ Slater 44; A Kumble 4–63, AR Kapoor 2–30, SB Joshi 2–36) and 234 (SR Waugh 67*; A Kumble 5–67, BKV Prasad 3–18)

  India 361 (NR Mongia 152, SC Ganguly 66, SR Tendulkar 10; PR Reiffel 3–35) and 58–3 (SC Ganguly 21, M Azharuddin 21, SR Tendulkar 0)

  India won by 7 wickets

  India won the series 1–0

  South Africa in India 1996

  1st Test. Ahmedabad. 20–23 November 1996

  India 223 (SR Tendulkar 42; AA Donald 4–37) and 190 (VVS Laxman 51, SR Tendulkar 7; AA Donald 3–32)

  South Africa 244 (PS de Villiers 67*; SB Joshi 4–43) and 105 (WJ Cronje 48*; J Srinath 6–21, A Kumble 3–34)

  India won by 64 runs

  2nd Test. Kolkata. 27 November–1 December 1996

  South Africa 428 (AC Hudson 146, G Kirsten 102; BKV Prasad 6–104) and 367–3 dec (DJ Cullinan 153*, G Kirsten 133)

  India 329 (M Azharuddin 109, A Kumble 88, SR Tendulkar 18; AA Donald 3–72) and 137 (M Azharuddin 52, SR Tendulkar 2; L Klusener 8–64)

  South Africa won by 329 runs

  3rd Test. Kanpur. 8–12 December 1996

  India 237 (SR Tendulkar 61, WV Raman 57; PR Adams 6–55) and 400–7 dec (M Azharuddin 163*, R Dravid 56, SR Tendulkar 36)