Absolutely Plumb
Created | Updated Oct 22, 2008
A Nepalese village near Jiri, late February 2000
We're the first Europeans ever to visit Mingmar's village and, being good Englishfolk, we take a cricket set. We make our own stumps and bails, set up a pitch in the school grounds and go through the basics of batting and bowling with the children and teachers as a few villagers gather around.
One of the villagers has the first bowl, pitching a short and wide delivery that is uppercut over the school building for six. The bowler is not happy. As he makes his way back to his mark he walks past me, head bowed, and glances up, shaking his head.
'Sachin Tendulkar' he mutters, knowing he has met his match.
They're the only words he ever says that I understand.
A bus, somewhere in India, the small hours of March 1, 2000.
Rather unwisely, we've taken a night bus into India from the Nepalese border. It's the bus journey from hell. The driver is drunk and charges through villages at 90mph, children running terrified from the road to get out of the way. The bus stops to pick up stolen sleepers stolen from a railway. It becomes too much when the driver lets his 12-year-old nephew take over the wheel; we overtake a lorry on a blind corner, clip it, and almost go off the road.
Lainey's head is buried in my chest; I'm terrified. All I can think is - what the hell will her Mum say?
Mercifully, the bus stops in a village. To the astonishment of the other passengers, I scream that we're getting off and throw our packs out onto the ground. I'll work out what to do next, even if it is 2am.
A passenger follows us, his enormous moustache and dignified air confirming that he is a Major in the Army as he says. 'The ride is very exciting, yes? I will talk to the driver. I will tell him he must be slow for you and take care. Not everyone believes that Ganesh will take care of us.'
I yell some more, but get back on the bus when he explained that Ganesh will certainly not take care of us in this part of the country. Still shaking, we sit beside him. He offers me a cigar, the bus sets off at a more reasonable speed, and we smoke silently in the haze for a moment. Then he waves his cigar at me.
'So, tell me. Is Sachin Tendulkar still the best batsman in the world?'
Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, March 2000
I'm sitting with a beer and an Australian watching the cricket. We wanted to play, but the bunch of nine-year-olds in the square won't let us. We soon realised that they had a proper game on, complete with young scorers and umpires, and the seriousness only lapses when a cow invades the 'pitch'.
At the fall of a wicket, we notice the fielders go back. Bruce and I involuntarily sit up in our seats. One of the boys winks and waves. 'Sachin Tendulkar'.
A couple of balls later, and he has the pace and bounce of the cobbles worked out. As the third ball rears up, he rocks back and effortlessly clips the ball behind square, where it rolls down a flight of shallow steps and heads for the desert below.
Bruce and I nod at one another.
Eight-and-a-half years on, Sachin Tendulkar ran three runs off the bowling of Peter Siddle and became the highest-scoring batsman of all time, now in both Tests and one-day internationals.
He is certainly the best batsman I have ever seen. At the crease, his economy of effort is astonishing. On the back foot, his incredible timing and perfect balance sees so many good balls go for four, and the angles of his bat ensure he find the gaps more often than not. He rarely seems to go hard at the ball, but when he does it still looks like an easy stroke rather than a slog. Impeccable technique is often a backhanded compliment; not so in Tendulkar's case.
Way back in 1990—he really has been around that long—Tendulkar announced his arrival on the international scene with his first Test century against England at Old Trafford. After compiling a steady 68 in the first innings, he came in with India at 127-5 and in serious danger of losing both match and series. His cool and composed 119* saved the match. It may not have been his most famous innings ever, but it remains a joy to watch the 'Little Master's first significant Test innings. I'm going to leave you with a link to the BBC's archive footage from the day; an innings described by Richie Benaud as 'an innings of temperament, skill and delightful strokeplay'.
Watch Sachin Tendulkar's maiden Test century.
