Named after Sachin, Dhas promises plenty

Bengaluru: Beed, which is said to be a city but is at best a glorified town, ended up on the wrong side of history a long time ago. Wars, rebellions, invasions, conflicting religious ideologies, economic turmoil… 

It’s quite possible that Sachin Dhas, all of 19-years-old as of a few days ago, doesn’t bother himself with the history of the region in Marathwada, but the trickle-down effect of such a painful regional legacy would not escape him. 

Barely any employment. Very few sources of alternative income. Hardly any infrastructure for travel. Desperate lack of hygiene - they even had a spell of the Bubonic plague less than a couple of decades ago (yes, that recently). Very little water…

So when there isn’t enough water to drink, there is little desire to be generous with watering plants, let alone put up a turf. This predicament meant Sachin, who borrowed his father’s dream of becoming a serious cricketer, didn’t have a canvas to live out this dream, just some mats. 

But, he didn’t do a Sanjay Bangar, or the others from the same city with cricketing dreams, who moved to Aurangabad or one of the other more popular, populated regions around Beed. 

Instead, Sachin and his determined mates got on their hands and knees at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj ground, removed the matting on which they had played for aeons and started work on a pitch. One became six not long after. 

Critical mass, however, was triggered by Sachin’s return from playing Under-14 cricket for Maharashtra. Everyone had had enough. 

“We didn’t have money or facilities so we made 11-yard tracks. Even for that his (Sachin) father had to borrow money from friends and relatives,” Sachin’s coach Sheikh Azhar tells DH. “These boys literally made those pitches with their hands, and now to see him being this great brings tears to his (Sachin's father) eyes.”

By ‘being this’ Azhar means 294 runs from six Under-19 World Cup matches, averaging 73.50 at a strike rate of 116.66. 

There are two people who have outscored him this World Cup, both of them are coincidentally Indian, but neither has scored at this average nor do they bat this low in the order. They don't score as quickly as him either. 

Sachin bats at No.6, looks a million bucks and is staggeringly composed for his age. Moreover, he has so many shots that it feels like the right-hander has more time than the others. His 95-ball 96 in the semifinal against South Africa after India had been reduced to 32/4 was one example of these traits.

“…that’s because of the 11-yard pitches we prepared in Beed,” says Azhar. “Even before going to South Africa, he trained on these pitches so the pace is not a problem. He’s also very good at playing horizontal bat shots because the ball would rise abruptly on those pitches. Eventually, he became unafraid of the ball, that’s ninety per cent of the problem with cricketers, and once he was in that space he could do whatever he wanted.”

While Sachin’s execution of that learnt freedom is plenty evident on the field, he’s quite the introvert at home, says his father Sanjay as he reels Sachin’s story without much encouragement. 

“Me and my wife used to play kabaddi, but I also used to play cricket,” says Sanjay. “I don’t know what happened in that hospital but I decided that we should name this boy Sachin. I was a fan of Sachin (Tendulkar) but I didn’t think of naming my son until that moment. Suddenly I wanted that and that was it. But I knew I was going to create a cricketer even before he was born.”

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This was February 3, 2005, and his wife Surekha, who works as a police officer, agreed contentiously. She knew of Sanjay’s intentions, but she didn’t think it would escalate to this degree.

“She likes cricket but she didn’t like Sachin playing it. She was not sure of the characters in the sport. He’s our only son, we want the best for him so she was being a mother and I was being a sports fan,” says Sanjay. 

“Look at her (an Assistant Police Inspector at this moment) now, she watches the World Cup matches during duty and her colleagues join in.” 

While the scenario might sound wholesome enough, Sachin might have lost out on social exposure. “He doesn’t have any friends. I am his only friend. I have never allowed him to go to weddings, parties and so on. He sleeps next to me and he eats with me. When he wants to go out, I take him to the theatre,” says Sanjay, who broke an old family home to turn it into indoor nets for Sachin. 

Is this the ideal route for a 19-year-old to take, what with this much pressure? Doesn’t sound like it, but Sachin seems to be doing more than most others his age so all parental judgement can take a backseat. 

Sachin and Sanjay’s drive itself was a victory for Beed, but the boy’s success now is an assertion of this triumph.