Doppelgänger

It is not often that you read an article and wish you had written it instead. I feel that way after reading this article by Sidin Vadukut. While the example he uses is not one that I am familiar with, the sentiments are the same. And he is funny, too!

Over the last 14 or so years Srinath has been single-handedly responsible for my wasting hundreds of precious man-hours watching the last few overs of cricket matches half-hoping India will grab victory from the jaws of unavoidable defeat.

Or that some form of power cut, rain, sandstorm or DDCA ingenuity will call off a match at the last possible moment before defeat and Duckworth-Lewis.

These desperation scenarios often call on India to score 60 runs in the last four overs, with Sreesanth being the only regulation batsman left. Or they involve opponents needing 10 runs with three overs and seven wickets to spare.

Your local cricket cynic - and this is a compulsory vacancy in offices - has already laughed off India's chances in that whiny, irritating voice. Publicly you laugh along with him and say things like "Traitors! Can only act in ads!" or "One billion people and you pick Joginder?!" or "Buy them all some Musli Power, I say!"

But that is an act. A ruse. For public consumption.

In reality, deep inside, you want to gently call the cynic to one corner and redecorate the conference-room wall with his face.

I spent some time trying to figure out if there was any such seminal event that made me think that the Indian team could pull it out against all odds. Many candidates come to mind, primarily the '83 World Cup and Kapil Dev's 175* or when India defended a total of 125 in Sharjah against Pakistan and won by a whopping 38 runs, thoroughly ruining a 6 for 14 performance by Imran Khan. But none of them really stick in the mind. What does stick are the ones that got away, the defining one being Javed Miandad and that six. Even that one I remember for two factoids that have withered away from public memory with time. One, it was the first time India lost to Pakistan in Sharjah and two, Miandad's 116* was the first century ever scored at Sharjah. That was a momentum-changing event of seismic proportions. (Also, the ball before Miandad hit a six, India messed up an easy run-out that would have ended the game. See the video to see what I mean.

But no, that did not make me think that no match was lost until the final note had been rung (to mix metaphors). For the past few minutes I have been sitting and mulling this. Through the '80's, my feeling that the Indian team would pull it out was rooted more in hope than belief. Then I came to Chicago and watched Michael Jordan play. MJ was many things - a selfish team-mate who shared the ball when it suited his means, an egotistical ballhog, a boorish sourpuss whose good looks and cultivated media image glossed over his personal faults - but he had one trait above all else - a dislike for defeat that veered into the realm of psychosis. With the game on the line he may have been as nervous as anyone else but he did not show it. All the fans in the stands, all the viewers on TV, the opposing team, the coaches, his teammates, all of them knew that he would take the game-deciding shot. And he did. And he did it often enough to fill an entire decade's worth of film roll. The aura of the fellow was such that the ones he missed are used as defining moments that show how great the fellow was because he came back and wiped them from memory.

Being in Chicago, I got carried away in the MJ wave and watched every game I could. Take LeBron James and Kobe Bryant today, mix them up, and you will not get the level of awe that MJ conjured. I used to think Miandad was the under-pressure guy to admire. To mis-quote Denzel Washington, Miandad ain't got nothing on MJ. When MJ hit the championship-winning shot to finish his legendary career, it was the perfect way to remember the man. (I never watched him or followed him in a Washington Wizard uniform so as far as I am concerned that never happened).

In the 90's and beyond as I heard about the Indian team (this was before CricInfo and live Internet streaming, boys and girls) choking away and ruining whatever chance Sachin Tendulkar had of leading a team to victory in his pomp, I wondered when the Indian team would come across the likes of MJ. MJ was paramount and unparalleled (in my esteem anyway) for a definition of a clutch player.

And then came Tiger Woods. It's funny how the unraveling of his life has diminished the man in the eyes of many, but on the golf course he dominated people like Mike Tyson in his prime, without laying a single punch. And he did not do this by blowing away the competition on good days. He did this by wrecking their hopes irrespective of how he was playing. I thought MJ was the quintessential pressure player until I saw Tiger Woods, especially circa 1999-2001. Even today, I feel TW is the best clutch player I have ever seen. It is an indictment of the man (and a great window into his soul) that most of the occasions when Tiger comes up short on a golf course are in team events such as the Ryder Cup or the President's Cup. When it comes to playing for himself, more often than not Tiger Woods makes the putt he needs to make. His career achievements are staggering and he is far from being done. Today he is the butt of jokes (and very rightly so) but once he steps on the golf course again, I can bet you a lot of money he will have a focus that will scare his opponents even more.

The greatest closer I have ever seen in sports is Tiger Woods. And he's the main reason I believe that no match is lost unless the last wicket falls or the last run is scored, whether it's the Indian team or the one I play on.

Here's one example from last year.



For me, here's the defining moment where there was never a doubt in my mind the fellow would find a way to get the ball in the hole. When it happened the overwhelming feeling was, "Yup, I knew it was going to happen."

Never. A. Doubt.