The benchmark for many generations to come

It will be no exaggeration to call Sunil Gavaskar the Father of modern Indian cricket. Few men have done more to raise the cricketing profile of any country than the original little master, the master of technique and concentration, of determination and pride, of self respect and immense belief in his own abilities.

Gavaskar’s was a remarkable journey, from an impressionable 21-year-old who set the cricketing world on fire with his exploits in the Caribbean on his debut in 1971 to the commensurate pro who, even in his last Test outing in 1987 aged 37, showed that time had done little to blunt his competitive edge.

A memorable 96 on a minefield at the Chinnaswamy stadium against Pakistan in his last Test innings will remain one of the most complete Test innings ever, its value not diminished even by the fact that India went on to lose a close game to their most bitter rivals. In a little less than two months, on July 10, Gavaskar will turn 60. The passage of time has failed to scatter the aura that surrounds the Mumbaikar who has triggered contrasting emotions in different people.

The inspiration behind many a work of words, the phenomenon that Gavaskar is has prompted Devendra Prabhudesai to come up with this latest offering. Prabhudesai has worn many hats, and is currently the operational head of the media wing of the Board of Control for Cricket in India. Through this book, he has made it all too clear that the hat of a die-hard Gavaskar fan sits most comfortably on him.

Gavaskar has forever been a fascinating subject, his own man, no matter what. If, on the field, he proclaimed through his tall deeds that Indians are second to none when it comes to international cricket, then off the park, he showed how, with a little bit of nous and shrewdness, successful cricketers can market themselves extraordinarily successfully. Any which way you look at it, he is a pioneer, the benchmark for not just one but several subsequent generations.

That said, Gavaskar is no less human than anyone else. It is in the deification of his fellow-Mumbaikar, and in glossing over some of the most controversial moments of a glittering career — the MCG walk-out in 1980-81 included — that Prabhudesai has failed to do justice in his role as biographer.

There is something to say about a mindset that believes Indian cricket begins and ends with Mumbai. Mumbai, from the time it was Bombay, has been the cradle, the nursery responsible for the blossoming of many a wonderful success story.

Particularly in the last decade, however, cricket’s growing popularity has finally reflected in the proliferation of players in the national team from outside of the established centres. No one illustrates the rise of the one-time outposts better than Mahendra Singh Dhoni, from unfashionable Jharkhand, but today the captain of India!

Prabhudesai’s is a meticulous compilation of Gavaskar’s cricketing exploits, from when he was barely taller than a bat to his last international fixture, the doomed World Cup semifinal at Bombay against England in 1987.

 It is replete with statistical and technical narratives that would have done even someone who saw all those knocks proud, and is liberally laced with quotes from the little master’s neighbours, friends, contemporaries, opponents, critics et al.

An earnest effort, Prabhudesai’s SMG deserves commendation for the hard yards as it traces the cricketing life of one of India’s most revered, colourful and dynamic sportspersons.

Where it disappoints is in not offering the promised ‘analytical’ insights into what has made Gavaskar what he is today — a veritable one-man industry or, as Prabhudesai has quoted Sandeep Patil as saying, ‘The Amitabh Bachchan of Indian Cricket’.