#ThankYouSachin

I have been intending to give words to this feeling for quite some time now and I believe today is good as any. The timing could not have been any more ideal.

Honestly speaking I don’t know where to begin with, from the time he was born or the time he made his test debut against the fiery Pakistani pace attack at the mere age of sixteen and a half. His first international century at Old Trafford is also a befitting origin to start off.

But I am going to start off near the time of first meeting with Sachin. I met Sachin during the World Cup 2003. WC 03’ was the birth of my fanatism for this sport and this legend of arena. The buzz around him was that he was god and when he played everything else impasses.

I fancied my chances to watch how a god plays cricket. And soon I glimpsed him play and my eyes have never been glued to anything before with so much affection and fondness. It was like a surreal feeling which was ineffable in its very existence.

Sachin was born to play cricket. My earliest memories of him include noteworthy mention of the two moments which still lingers in my mind even today. The six against Andrew Caddick in Durban and an even better upper cut to Shoaib Akhtar. His shots were magical, his innings were heavenly and his technique was unthinkable to many. In short he was alien to my imagination.

’03 was a year to remember for many reasons. Sachin scored more runs than any other batsmen has ever scored in the history of a single world cup tournament but it was his worst year in test cricket too. This all put a shadow of doubt in the back of my thinking. Even god has flaws. Losing the world cup final the same year was undoubtedly one of the biggest disappointments of his career, if any there ever was.

The coming few years were not his best but he still carried the same charm every time he put foot to a cricket field. Without him cricket felt void. His presence was enough to make a nation of more than a billion cheer in unanimity and millions worldwide.

His second homecoming was embarked upon two mammoth one day centuries. 175 against Australia in Hyderabad which India eventually lost and then the magical one, two hundred against South Africa in Gwalior.

During his latter phase his test match form was a piece below his career average which was a slight indication that we might never catch sight of that Sachin which we once were so used to see playing.

But all that seems secondary now when compared to what was soon to become the highlight of his career. World Cup ’11. He played his first world cup all the way back in ’92 and almost two decades latter ’11 was plausibly going to be his last, even if he doesn't win it.

His role was pivotal in India’s World Cup win. A couple of hundreds alongside a crucial eighty against Pakistan in the Semis was all that was required from his bat for India to reach the finals. This time, India won and so did the prayers of one Billion come true. The god who writes other's destiny met his own on this day.

Nature always has a sense of irony and humor. The first time I saw him on a cricket field, he was making the opposition bowlers cry and exactly ten years later I was seeing him play and tears of happiness flee down like it was all he ever wished from life. Playing cricket was all he was meant to do.

How can a man standing five feet five inch tall reach such heights of Excellency? The answer to this question is not a thing or a word, it’s a person which I have seen for almost a decade now. And every time I watch him play, it is like an old prophecy coming true in a different time.

The world would remember him as one of the greatest that has played the game alongside Sir Don Bradman and Sir Viv Richards. I don’t know if he’s the greatest or the second greatest or the third.

All I would remember him is not the records which he invented or broke, not even the flawless straight drives which gave me Goosebumps all the years, or his characteristic guard position and his squeaky voice which I tried to mimic but failed.

I would remember a five feet five inch god coming out of the pavilion onto a cricket field wearing his famous ten number jersey then kissing the ground with his hand and the hurry in his steps from the boundary to pitch showing exuberance like a sixteen year old kid, every time, every match.