The learner who would be legend

On Wednesday, R Ashwin, the man who mastered every delivery there is to be mastered, appeared to have mastered the curveball too, right when he brought his storied international career to a close. Fourteen years, 287 matches, 765 wickets and 4,394 runs later, the man came to a press conference in Brisbane dressed in slacks, said, “This is my last day as an international cricketer”, embraced his emotional skipper (Rohit Sharma) without much outward emotion himself, said he doesn’t want to field any questions from the media, and walked off. However, in his posture, eyes, words, and jibe at the press, he had said enough. As the world grappled with what had transpired, Ashwin walked away with the most Ashwin of things: a self-assured smile after showcasing his guile. That curveball was Ashwin saying, “Replace me, we’ll see”, and the objective truth – one which he is certain of on most days, save for when his insecurities creep up – is that no one can. Ashwin is, indeed, irreplaceable but that he didn’t always believe it is what made him one of the all-time greatest proponents of spin. Ashwin’s genius mostly stems from precarious self-worth. His at-times irksome and in-your-face confidence is a classic case for compensation under the veil of hubris.

None of that will be remembered though. Ashwin will forever be the off-spinning savant who went from utilising his multi-dimensional sensibilities at tennis-ball cricket to besting world cricket with a ‘dadbod’. His father – Ravichandran – envisioned a top-order batter. A young Ashwin saw himself as a fast bowler. Somewhere amid these parental and pubescent desires, an off spinner was born. He was never really sure about his craft, but the validation rolled in. If a bunch of opponents ‘abducting’ him to ensure he doesn’t play a tennis ball game in the local tournament doesn’t corroborate his talent, nothing else will. Ashwin, though, didn’t stop there. His brain was always contemplative, perhaps a bit more than necessary, but then again, without it we wouldn’t have been witness to the carrom-ball, the seam-up arm-ball, the cross-seamed arm-ball, the slider, the looper, and of course, the conventional off-break with a variety of landing points, loading points, release points and so on.

All of Ashwin’s everything is born out of curiosity, the kind which a child possesses when twirling a ball, lying in bed, dreaming up dismissals, accolades, titles, and that perfect ball. The genius and the records aside, this dream that Ashwin dreamt once and lived thereafter is what Indian cricket should be taking away from his legacy. That, even if misunderstood by some, is Ashwin’s greatest contribution to us, and we should be thankful for being a part of his not-so-kutty stories.