Playing It My Way: My Autobiography (7 page)

What made the Sialkot Test special was that my brother Ajit had travelled to see me play. It was an added incentive to do well and both Ajit and I still remember the kindness the locals bestowed on him the moment they became aware that he was from India and had come to watch cricket.

As expected, the wicket was green, but the December weather was also heavy, resulting in a lot of early-morning fog. So much so that play never started on time and it ended early each afternoon. This meant the four Pakistani fast bowlers could come at us all day, hoping to roll us over and secure the upper hand. In the first innings I played pretty well for my 35 and was feeling good before falling lbw to Wasim. I wasn’t so uncomfortable at the start of my innings and the initial apprehension was no longer an issue. I hit some pleasing shots and scored at a good clip in the course of my 51-ball stay at the wicket.

India managed a 74-run first-innings lead, with Vivek Razdan, a fast bowler who played two Tests for India, picking up 5–79 in the Pakistan first innings. We had bowled them out for 250 and understandably Pakistan came back at us hard at the start of our second innings. We lost a cluster of early wickets and I went in to bat at 38–4, with a day and a half still to go in the match.

Waqar was bowling from one end and it was absolutely essential to survive the initial burst. I had just scored my first run when Waqar bowled a short delivery, which I expected would rise chin-high. I misjudged the bounce of the ball. It rose six inches higher than expected and hit me on the flap of my helmet before deflecting and hitting my nose. At the time I was the only batsman besides Srikkanth not to wear a grille. It wasn’t an act of bravado; I just wasn’t used to playing with one. Ajit, who was sitting right in front of the Indian dressing room, later said to me that he had clearly heard the sound of the ball hitting my helmet and deflecting on to my nose.

My vision was blurred and my head felt heavy. After impact, the ball went towards the slips and my natural movement was to see where the ball had gone. It was then that I noticed all the blood spattered on my shirt. As I was trying to recover from the blow, I was amused by Javed Miandad’s comments. In an attempt to psych me out, he was saying things like ‘
Arre tujhe to abhi hospital jana parega; tera naak tut gaya hai.
’ (You may have to go to the hospital; your nose is broken.) To add to my discomfort, a banner in the stands read, ‘
Bachhe ghar ja ke dudh pie kea aa.
’ (Kid go home and drink milk.)

I ignored all this while our team doctor, Vishwas Raut, inspected the injury. He put some ice on my nose and asked if I wanted to go off. I did not, for I considered it a moment of reckoning. Going off would suggest I was scared. And truly I wasn’t. It wasn’t the first time I had been hit, though the impact was much more severe than anything I had suffered before. I decided to carry on and said, ‘
Main khelega.
’ (I will play.) It was important for my own self-esteem, and by staying in I felt I had made a statement to the opposition.

Seeing me continue, Imran asked Javed to move away and all the Pakistani players went back to their respective field positions. Soon after the resumption, I got a full ball from Waqar on my legs and flicked it to the boundary. I followed it up with a drive on the off side and felt genuinely good about myself. I had treated the balls on merit and wasn’t just being aggressive to avenge being hit. Soon it was time for tea and I had an opportunity to regroup. After the break I started to bat really well. I was feeling confident and was determined not to give my wicket away. Importantly for the team, I managed to play out the day and we were on course to force a draw.

Shortly after going back to the hotel, however, I felt heavy in the head. We had a team function in the evening but I asked permission from manager Chandu Borde and went to bed early after taking a few painkillers and having dinner with Ajit and Navjot Sidhu, which helped me calm down. When I got up the next morning after a good night’s sleep, I was feeling ready for the challenge of the final day. We were on 102–4 overnight and needed to spend at least two more hours at the crease to deny Pakistan any opportunity of winning the Test.

Navjot Sidhu and I held out until I was dismissed by Imran for 57. It was my second half-century in Test cricket. Denying Pakistan a win on home turf was a big achievement for India, especially with the kind of bowling attack they had, and it served as a major confidence boost for the team. We were all elated at the performance.

After the Tests, we played a five-match one-day series in which none of the matches was played for the scheduled fifty overs. While some of them were affected by rain, the third match was abandoned because of crowd trouble after Pakistan had been reduced to 29–3 by some good swing bowling from Manoj Prabhakar. The first match was due to be played in Peshawar on 16 December 1989 and had to be called off at the last moment because of rain. However, a large crowd had braved the inclement weather and it was finally agreed between both teams that a twenty-over-a-side exhibition game, perhaps the first ever Twenty20 game, would be played for the sake of the crowd. It was a good call, as the fans deserved to be given their money’s worth. They are the ones who make the game what it is, after all, and they are pivotal to its health around the world.

Most people will agree that even an exhibition game between India and Pakistan can’t help being a serious cricket match. At Peshawar Pakistan had scored 157 in their innings, and when I went in to bat with three wickets down, the asking rate had climbed to well past 11 runs an over. Srikkanth was batting with me and suggested we should dig in and get some practice for the following games. I was determined to go for the bowling and felt we still had a chance to make a match of it if we played our shots. That’s what I suggested to Srikkanth and while he was a tad surprised, he told me to play the way I was comfortable with.

Mushtaq Ahmed, an up-and-coming Pakistani leg-spinner at that stage, was bowling and I hit him for a couple of sixes and a boundary in the first over I faced. While both sixes were hit over long on, the second went a fair distance and hit the dressing-room window, breaking the glass. The Pakistanis hadn’t expected me to hit it so far and Abdul Qadir, an experienced old hand at the time, walked up to me and said,
‘Bachhe ko kyun mar rahe ho; dum hai to mujhe mar ke dikhao.
’ (No point in hitting sixes off a newcomer; if you have the skills, try and hit me.) I said to him that he was a great bowler and that I was sure he wouldn’t allow me to hit him.

With just two overs left we needed more than 40 runs and Qadir was to bowl the penultimate over. Our only chance was to attack. I had made up my mind that if the ball was in my zone I’d go for my shots. As it happened, most of the balls were in my hitting arc and I took 28 off the over. I hit the first ball for six over long on and followed it up with a four off the third ball. The fourth ball resulted in a second six, which I hit straight over the bowler’s head. Seeing me hit straight, Qadir bowled the fifth ball wide outside off stump in an attempt to get me stumped. I had anticipated the move and hit the ball over long off for the third six of the over. For the last ball he went even further outside off stump and I stretched out to hit the ball wide over long off, to make it four sixes in the over.

The crowd, which had been confident of a Pakistan victory till an over earlier, was roused by this unexpected turn of events and started making a lot of noise. There was a sudden increase in energy levels at the ground. The match was now being played in full seriousness and no one really knew which team would win. We needed 14 runs off the last over, bowled by Wasim Akram. Eventually we fell short by three runs. Straight after the match, Abdul Qadir walked up to me in true sportsmanlike manner and said ‘
Bahut ala batting.
’ (Very well batted.)

That innings of 53 off eighteen balls at Peshawar had a defining impact on my career. In the eyes of the public, it had overshadowed my effort at Sialkot, which was far more difficult and far more significant as far as I was concerned. The Sialkot innings had allowed us to save the Test match and also the series. But for people at home the innings at Peshawar was the real talking point. It had given me instant recognition and made me a household name. For the first time I was asked for autographs, which was a strange feeling. Before we went to Pakistan I had been able to go out with my friends and have
bhel
(a type of fast food loved all over Mumbai) and do all those normal things. Afterwards, when I went out with my friends, people would come up and ask if I was Sachin Tendulkar. And it was all down to that one innings at Peshawar. While it would have been premature to suggest I had established myself at international level, it had certainly given me a toehold.

When I got home, I could tell that my parents were proud of my achievements, but there has never been any over-the-top celebration in my house. While I knew that my father was extremely happy and satisfied, he wouldn’t ever show off his emotions in an extravagant manner. When I did well, my mother would always light a
diya
(a kind of candle) and offer sweets to God, but that’s as far as it went. Sometimes people are kind enough to compliment me on my off-the-field behaviour more than my on-field performance. They say that I seem to have managed to keep my feet grounded. If that’s true, then I have no hesitation in saying that all the credit goes to my family.

Ajit’s presence in Pakistan was a great help and we talked every evening about my game and how I could improve. While there were many senior team-mates who I could go to, I was most comfortable discussing things with Ajit, as he knew my game better than anyone. He had watched me grow up as a cricketer and it was natural that his observations would always be pertinent.

After coming back from Pakistan, I felt much more positive about myself as a cricketer and was looking forward to India’s next away tour, to New Zealand at the start of 1990. I was pretty confident of getting picked but was still delighted to see myself in the squad when the touring side was announced.

1st Test. Karachi. 15–20 November 1989

Pakistan 409 (Imran Khan 109*, J Miandad 78, S Mohammad 67; M Prabhakar 5–104, Kapil Dev 4–69) and 305–5 dec (S Malik 102*, S Mohammad 95; Kapil Dev 3–82)

India 262 (KS More 58*, Kapil Dev 55.
SR Tendulkar 15
; W Akram 4–83, W Younis 4–80) and 303–3 (SV Manjrekar 113*, NS Sidhu 85)

Match drawn

2nd Test. Faisalabad. 23–28 November 1989

India 288 (SV Manjrekar 76,
SR Tendulkar 59
; Imran Khan 4–45) and 398–7 (M Azharuddin 109, SV Manjrekar 83, NS Sidhu 51,
SR Tendulkar 8
)

Pakistan 423–9 dec (A Malik 117, S Malik 63, R Raja 58; M Prabhakar 6–132)

Match drawn

3rd Test. Lahore. 1–6 December 1989

India 509 (SV Manjrekar 218, M Azharuddin 77, RJ Shastri 61,
SR Tendulkar 41
; A Qadir 3–97)

Pakistan 699–5 (S Mohammad 203*, J Miandad 145, A Malik 113)

Match drawn

4th Test. Sialkot. 9–14 December 1989

India 324 (SV Manjrekar 72, M Azharuddin 52,
SR Tendulkar 35
; W Akram 5–101) and 234–7 (NS Sidhu 97,
SR Tendulkar 57
; Imran Khan 3–68)

Pakistan 250 (R Raja 56; V Razdan 5–79)

Match drawn

Series drawn 0–0

New Zealand has always been a very difficult tour for an Indian cricketer. It’s often windy and chilly and that, coupled with the short boundaries in most of the grounds, makes it very different from conditions back home in India. In 1990 the challenge was doubly difficult, with Richard Hadlee, one of the finest ever exponents of swing bowling, close to his best. As a seventeen-year-old on his first tour away from the subcontinent, I was excited about the opportunity.

The first few days in New Zealand were not easy. The accent of the locals there was very strange to our ears and the food took some getting used to. The accent problem resulted in an incident involving Manoj Prabhakar very early in the tour. Prabhakar needed an adapter to charge his gadgets and for some reason decided to put on what he thought was a New Zealand accent while speaking to the housekeeping staff in the hotel. When asking for the adapter on the intercom he was almost chewing up the first ‘a’, as a result of which the word was sounding like ‘dapter’ and the staff were having difficulty understanding what he was asking for. Prabhakar got angry after a point and said he needed the ‘dapter’ immediately. In a few minutes there was a knock on his door and he opened it to find a doctor standing there. The staff had heard ‘doctor’ for ‘dapter’ (partly because they pronounced ‘doctor’ as ‘dactor’) and had sent the resident physician to Prabhakar’s room.

The first game of the tour was in New Plymouth and the ground was surrounded by hills. It was as if a stadium had been planted in the middle of mountains and Bishan Singh Bedi, our manager, decided to make the most of the conditions. Bedi, one of the best left-arm spinners of all time, was a really hard taskmaster and liked to make us run huge distances to improve our fitness. At New Plymouth our fitness drills involved running in the mountains and by the end of the training sessions we had absolutely no energy left.

As in Pakistan, I did not start particularly well and in the first Test at Christchurch, which started on 2 February, I was dismissed by Danny Morrison for a golden duck. It was a good delivery but the send-off was interesting, to say the least. I could hear most of the New Zealand players calling me a schoolboy, with plenty of F-words thrown in. They kindly advised me to go back to playing cricket with my school chums, suggesting that I wasn’t fit to compete at international level. I kept my mouth shut.