‘I must admit I was in absolute awe when he hit six sixes in an over – both Sir Gary and Ravi Shastri had done a similar job against an ordinary spinner, but Yuvi took on a promising English seamer! I reckon Yuvi could’ve done it again considering the quality of modern bats and also the amount of cricket that is being played. But he does not play for records. He reminds me of Kent and England’s left-hander Frank Woolley with his lazy elegance.’
Angad Bedi recollects how Yuvi was reluctant to go to the summer camp at Chail. ‘My dad and I, specially went to his nana-nani’s house in Panchkula, where he was hiding, to take him along. He just did not want to go. He was dragged out of the house by my ever-so-strict dad.
‘Yuvi is a true friend. When he was a teenager he bought a Maruti Zen and the first thing he did was take me for a long drive. We chatted a lot and he seemed very happy. After playing for India, one day I got a call from him that he wanted to take me for a long drive. This time he came in an expensive BMW. I cherish these memories because on each occasion, he remembered me. That’s called true friendship.’
Yuvi’s six-hitting ability might have been noticed by the world only after he got six sixes in an over, but those who saw him play as a boy always knew he had it in him.
In 1997, when Yuvi was just sixteen, he was sent to Mumbai. This was the stage that Yograj had been preparing him for all these years. Yuvi didn’t need any pushing now. His father had made sure that enduring hardships came easily to him.
Yuvi stayed with me at Andheri and practised at Dilip Vengsarkar’s academy at Churchgate. He was a tough boy, but the fast pace of Mumbai life got to him sometimes. In Chandigarh, too, his life had been tough, but at least the serene surroundings gave him some comfort and peace. Once, as he stood on the crowded Andheri platform, he said to me, ‘Mac uncle, Bombay is full of people. Chandigarh is full of trees.’
Getting into the crowded train at Andheri with his cricket kit to reach Churchgate at 8 a.m. was only a preliminary ordeal for him. At Vengsarkar’s academy, he showed the Mumbai boys how one could practise from morning to evening even in the Mumbai heat. By the time he boarded the train at Churchgate at 6 p.m., he had no energy left. When he expressed his resentment at the hectic schedule, I reminded him, ‘Yuvi, all those boys who practise with you also travel long distances. In fact, many of them travel from suburbs like Vasai, Virar, Thane and Kalyan.’ He nodded his head. He understood.
Yuvi loved fielding and he was most impressive as a fielder, diving and stretching for the ball. He practised his pick up and return to either end of the pitch diligently. After a month, he accompanied the academy team to Satara, a town in Maharashtra. Ojas Mehta, the captain of the team, recalled those days for me.
‘The Satara trip was one of the most memorable trips of our cricketing careers. All of us who were a part of the team still remember the time spent there, and often talk about it when we meet. A couple of times, when I met Yuvi, he had that wide and genuine smile of his as we went down memory lane. That was the first cricket tour for most of the team, including Yuvi. We were so exhilarated at the prospect of the tour that we were together all the time, from breakfast to the last goodnight. The other reason for that was that there was nothing to do in Satara. We were staying in Rajatadri hotel. Yuvi’s room-mates were Aniruddha Dichwalkar, Sushant Manjrekar and Kapil Parpillewar.’
Not only did Yuvi have ample talent and a big heart, he also had a big appetite. Ojhas remembers having dinner at Gulmohur restaurant every day while they were in Satara. ‘While two or three players shared a butter chicken between them, Yuvi used to have two kheema parathas all by himself. The cook was specially instructed by him to polish the parathas with extra butter!’
‘Yuvi was such a team man that he never had a problem batting at any number. He was our number four batsman, but when I thought he could be utilized higher up the order, he agreed and batted at number three. In the last two games, he opened the innings as well. Fielding was always Yuvi’s strong point. His favourite position was at backward point. But he was brilliant anywhere and at gully he took a couple of extraordinary catches, diving forward on that rough, uneven brown soil of the Satara ground which had not a single blade of grass on it. It was like diving on a tar road.
‘Like every Punjabi, Yuvi too loved music. On the tour, while everyone else had Walkmans, Yuvi owned a discman. But his favourite music wasn’t Punjabi. It was the Spice Girls,’ recounts Mehta. ‘I used to like it too and we used to listen to it at the same time, one earphone in my ear and the other in Yuvi’s. Our favourite song was “Mamma”.
‘We all were pranksters at heart, and so was Yuvi. Together, we troubled people walking near the hotel. We used to scare them with laser pens. That trip is deeply engraved in all our hearts.’
In 1997 Yuvi toured England with the Star Cricket Club of Mumbai, managed by Kailash Gattani, the former Rajasthan player. Recounts Gattani, ‘As a sixteen-year-old, he came with me on the tour of England in 1997 and was a huge success. He was a brilliant batsman and had guts. In one of the matches, we were stuck with the most difficult call that any Test team faces. We could either draw the game or risk it and go for the runs. To me and others in the team, a draw was the best and most practical option. But Yuvi had confidence. He wanted to win. He batted and we won the game with a few overs to spare. I remember that even with long on and long off up, he kept hitting huge sixes.’
Yuvi’s penchant for the big shots was his hallmark even in those days. Remembers Balwinder Singh Sandhu, ‘I first met Yuvi when I was conducting the Punjab Cricket Association camp in 1997. He was very talented, but loved to loft the ball. He was a bit confused because his coaches had told him not to do it. Perhaps they were right because he sometimes lofted without proper technique. As a result, he would be caught in the deep. I showed him the correct technique and I saw that he practised it sincerely.’
All along, Dilip Vengsarkar kept encouraging him to play with aggression. Dilip is a firm believer in batsmen playing their natural game. He was convinced that Yuvi would learn from his mistakes, which he did. Too much technical lingo could have confused him.
After returning from the England tour with Gattani’s team, I noticed a huge change in Yuvi. He had scored the highest number of runs on the tour and tightened his game, but most importantly, he finally understood the values of the game.
With strict and rigorous training, the chocolate boy of Chandigarh became a strong north Indian man. He was no longer the victim of bullies, and even began to challenge the older boys with confidence. At the same time, he began to love the game. The harder he worked, the deeper the realization dug in that playing for India was not going to be as easy as he had thought it would be.
The Mumbai experience proved invaluable for Yuvi. Former Test player Vikram Rathore, under whom Yuvi played for Punjab, remarks, ‘When Yuvi made his first-class debut at sixteen in 1997, he got out for zero. He was very upset. In fact, over the years, I found that contrary to his body language, which was casual, he was very serious about cricket. When he failed, it affected him. A year after practising at Vengsarkar’s academy and going to England with Gattani’s team, he came back as a mature cricketer. Amazingly fit and confident, he was fielding brilliantly and began to play some impact knocks.’
Yuvi first made it big when he captained the Under-19 Punjab cricket team in the final of the Cooch-Behar Trophy against Bihar Under-19s. He scored 358 at the Keenan Stadium in Jamshedpur.
Very soon, it became clear that tense situations got the best out of Yuvi. Punjab all-rounder Reetinder Singh Sodhi, a close friend of Yuvi’s, describes an incident that took place during the semi-final of the U-19 World Cup against Australia in the year 2000. ‘We were 3 down for 180 in the forty-fourth over. Yuvi was the next batsman and I was to go in after him. 180 in 44 overs was no score. We were all worried. Yuvi turned around and told me, “Don’t worry, I’m there.” He went in to bat in the forty-fifth over and hit a huge six. In the next twenty-five balls, he made 58
runs with 5 sixes and 5 fours.’
Yuvi’s performance in that tournament became a talking point all over the country. India was looking for a big hitter down the order, and Yuvi was not only a big hitter but a brilliant fielder. At backward point, his swift movements, pick up and throw made it difficult for any batsman to steal a single. Shots which would have made it to the boundary were intercepted. Most importantly, his throw back to either side of the pitch was fast and tremendously accurate. India hadn’t seen much fielding of this kind. It was a revolution.
Roger Binny, coach of the World Cup winning U-19 team, says that Yuvi first came to his notice at the nets in Sri Lanka, just before the tournament started. ‘He was timing the ball so well and hitting all the bowlers so effortlessly that I didn’t feel the need to tell him anything. Everything came naturally to him. His brilliance and form showed in the game against the Australians when he toyed with their attack which was actually very good. The coach of the Australian team, Rod Marsh, was really impressed.’
Those first few years in Mumbai proved to be really crucial for Yuvi. Hundreds come to Mumbai every day to fulfil their dreams. It was so then, and it is the same now. But Mumbai is not kind to everyone. Some fade away because of bad luck and lack of opportunity, some because they get carried away. Yuvi made the best of Mumbai. It taught him a great deal about life and he acknowledges it. It is only fitting then, that he has decided to make this city his home.
Yuvi always loved tennis and might have pursued it. He felt it did not put the same kind of pressure on him as playing cricket often did. His resentment against team sports grew stronger when he was dropped after his debut Ranji game against Orissa in 1997. For two years after that, he only played junior cricket.
Yuvi was deeply upset that his destiny could be shaped by the needs of a team. He believed that he could make his own destiny and control it. But he forgot that his destiny had been written the day he was born. He had to play cricket. He was made for it, if not by the gods, then by his father.
Cricket might not have been Yuvi’s natural choice of sport, but he had become a natural cricketer for sure. Yograj Singh, his father, had demonstrated how one does not have to be born with any inherent inclination towards a sport. Traits can be developed. Interest can be inculcated. With the right amount of perseverance, nature can be overcome.
Chapter Three
TESTING TIMES
We often think of life in terms of black and white: positive or negative, good or bad, success or failure. But a lot exists between these binaries. Is killing in self-defence a positive or a negative act? Is giving money to a beggar good or bad? And how do we assess or define success? Is the chaiwala who starved for days to send his daughter to school successful or not? Should the smartest scientist in the world be called successful if his children despise him?
It is not easy to justify labelling someone a success or a failure. An individual may excel in some areas while being utterly incompetent in others. Should he be called a success for his skill or a failure for the lack of it?
This question is most pertinent in the case of Yuvraj Singh. Mention his name on the streets and people will tell you about his six sixes and breathtaking dives. Say the name in the commentary box and the pundits will stroke their chins and ponder.
Talented though he is, Yuvi’s abilities have always been a point of discussion when the experts within the cricketing fraternity try to understand him. It is difficult to explain why someone who has been a part of the Indian dressing room for more than a decade has not been able to make a mark in Test matches and cement his place in the Test squad. Yet his performance in the shorter version of the game is right up there with the best. Rahul Dravid, who had quite a few partnerships with Yuvi, says, ‘No doubt Yuvi is immensely talented and one of the best players in one-dayers. In fact, he is in my list of the World’s best XI. But he certainly hasn’t lived up to his potential in Test matches. I have seen him getting a hundred against the likes of Shoaib Akhtar, Umar Gul and Mohammad Asif, but by and large, the impact that he has had in one-dayers, he hasn’t had in Test matches.’
It is tempting to say that fate has played a large part in shaping Yuvi’s Test career. If one looks at it rationally, it is clear that selection to a team depends on three factors. The primary one, of course, is the player’s own performance. Then comes the form of the other players, injuries to potential team members and the player’s own physical fitness. Every player, at some level or the other, has to negotiate these three factors. But there are some others which are, in a sense, beyond his control.
The game of cricket by its very nature depends a great deal on extraneous factors: the wind, the rain, the moisture, the pitch, the grass, the toss, the crowd, the edge, the nick, the no-ball, the fumble, the skid, the crack, the dew, the sunlight, the floodlights – any one factor goes against you, and a won match is lost. When a player is in good form, he can overcome all these obstacles.
Similarly, one day you could bowl well without getting any wickets while someone who is bowling rubbish at the other end gets a fiver. When you are middling the ball perfectly and feeling confident, all of a sudden you get a snick and you are gone. Another time, you might be struggling, missing the line, edging the ball in different directions, but catches get spilled and you end up scoring a hundred, raising the bat to the pavilion and wondering how you got there.
Yuvi has met this god called Fate far too often in his Test career. It was as if someone was playing a game with him. For just when he thought that his greatest dream, of being a regular Test player, was going to be achieved, it would be snatched from his grasp. The innumerable occasions when he fell ill or got injured just when he was on the verge of securing his place in the Test team are a testimony to this. Either that, or he was out because the middle order was settled and performing well.
Even Yuvi’s Test debut came to be almost by default. He got his Test cap in 2003 when India was playing New Zealand at Mohali, his home ground. Captain Sourav Ganguly was injured and Yuvi was chosen to take his place. Ganguly returned and Yuvi was dropped. He got another opportunity in the 2004 tour of Pakistan, again because of an injury to Ganguly. Yuvi knew he had to make the most of this opportunity. In the second Test at Lahore, he scored a century but India lost the match. When Ganguly returned for the third Test, it seemed that the selectors wanted to give Yuvi a regular place, for they dropped Aakash Chopra instead.
A player of Yuvi’s calibre needed a mentor, and in Sourav Ganguly he found one. Yuvi worshipped him. Even in private conversations with me, his words have always reflected the tremendous respect he has for Dada. Dada tried to make him an opener like Sehwag, but somehow that move failed. After two poor performances in the Border–Gavaskar Trophy against Australia, he was dropped in favour of Gautam Gambhir.
It was 2005, and Sachin Tendulkar was suffering from a tennis elbow. Yuvi was sent for, and he batted at number six. Enter Greg Chappell, and Ganguly was sacked. This meant that Yuvi finally had a free spot. Ironically, it was his beloved captain’s downfall that presented him with the opportunity he craved.
Yuvi scored a second Test century in the third Test in Pakistan in 2006, which India again lost. He struggled a bit after this and later in the year, he suffered a knee injury. This allowed Ganguly to return, and he went on to top-score in the series and seal his place in the team. In fact, Ganguly staged a comeback in the Test matches against South Africa in 2006: in 3 Tests he scored 214 runs with an average of 42.80.
One can only wonder at this duo, close friends tied together in a strange web. The downfall of one meant the rise of the other.
In 2007, in the third Test against Pakistan, Yuvi was again picked to replace an injured Sachin Tendulkar. India were 61/4 before Yuvi and Ganguly put on a 300-run partnership. Yuvi recorded his highest Test score of 169. But he had a very poor run again against Australia later that year and was dropped.
In view of all this, it was only natural for Yuvi to feel disgruntled. He could n
ot secure a place in the final XI of the Indian team because of an abundance of experience and talent in the middle order.
You could say, of course, that he was lucky to get a look in whenever someone was injured. Many don’t get to play even a single Test match. But only Yuvi knows the depth of frustration he experienced at the way things worked – and didn’t work – for him.
Dilip Vengsarkar, who was the chairman of the national selection committee, says, ‘Any type of injury puts a player back, especially when you are missing Test matches because of it. Yuvi had a knee injury playing kho-kho, a sport that is supposed to be played barefoot. He was playing with shoes on, and he paid a heavy penalty for it. When there is competition in the team, one has to be careful. It’s not always the player’s fault, but once he has had a knee or back injury, it makes him self-conscious in the field. He is not the same player after such injuries.’
That is exactly what happened to Yuvi. He got back after two and a half months of treatment, but when he returned, his swift movements had deserted him. Shrewd cricketer that he was, he made amends by using his experience in batting, and stopped risk-diving in the field. From playing swashbuckling knocks, he began to play percentage shots. In the T20s, though, he still used the sweet spots on the bat to perfection.
A school of coaches has pointed out flaws in Yuvi’s technique. But it is equally true that when a stroke player is in the right mood, technique becomes subservient to talent. Once the ball starts connecting with the sweet spot of the bat and he gets the timing right, the boundaries start to come every now and again. What matters in the case of a stroke player like Yuvi is that he should play his natural game.
Yuvi Page 3
