PlanetCricket
Bot
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2010
Article by hawkeye -
Normally, the sportsman who is seen as a back-to-the-wall performer, or as the man for a crisis, is not usually the man of ease. More often he is described as gritty, or tenacious?the man for a scrap. It would seem remarkable therefore, that the man to fill that position in the highly vaunted Indian batting line-up of the last decade or so would be VVS Laxman.
Perhaps The Wall would have been a better fit. After all, he is the possessor of probably the best defensive batting technique in the world, and has himself rescued his country on a number of occasions. But it has been Laxman, more than any other, who has specialized in bringing his country back from the dead. And the very, very, special thing about it is that he has always done it with such style.
He first took on the role in 2001 at the Eden Gardens. After being steamrolled by ten wickets in the first test, India was following on 274 behind a rampant Australia. Those were the days, remember, when the Aussies reigned o?er the cricketing world, the days of McGrath and Warne and Gillespie and Waugh and Waugh and Gilchrist and Hayden.
Last out for 59 batting at 6 in the first innings he was sent in at the fall of the first wicket. From there he fashioned an innings as unlikely and as sublime as the cricketing world had ever seen. His 281 lasted 452 balls and spanned 632 minutes and with comrade-in-arms Rahul Dravid, laid a platform from which they managed to contrive a most improbable victory. Since then he has often stood alone?guiding his team to implausible victory or staving of certain defeat.
But respectable though his record may be, and heroic his greatest deeds, neither are what draws me to his cricket. His appeal to me (and a great number of his many fans I suspect) is his presentation of batting as performance art. Disappointed at the curtailment of some his more promising recitals, I find myself silently cursing at the umpire who dared raise the finger in response to a LBW shout, or even his batting partner for not having contrived to face the offending delivery. Such was the allure of his batsmanship that every substantial innings by him triggered a throng of scribes competing for superlatives.
To see him lord it over a good bowling attack has been, for me, some of the most memorable moments I have had as a follower of cricket. Other batsmen have dominated opponents more: his teammate Virender Sehwag, for example, has been as brutal a batsman as there can ever have been; to witness Brian Lara treat an attack as if they existed only for his pleasure has been one of cricket?s great spectacles. But Laxman stands out for the poise and economy of effort with which goes about the business of scoring runs.
I have often stood amazed to see a ball that I thought, upon seeing the gentleness of the stroke, would travel no more than a few feet, race to the boundary at pace. One of the most amazing shots I have seen is Laxman skipping a yard outside leg stump to drive Shane Warne through the covers for four during his Eden Gardens extravaganza; never mind that earlier in that same innings he played a ball, pitched in a similar spot, to the leg side boundary. Give him a delivery just outside off-stump and he may cajole it to the cover boundary with the most nonchalant ease. Give him another, landing in the same general area, and it would be propelled through mid-on or mid-wicket with a flick of the most magical wrists in cricket.
At his best, Laxman was hardly ever troubled, never hurried, always elegant, very seldom violent. I saw him ruffled only once: while remonstrating with Ojha about his lackadaisical running during another of his death-defying epics against Australia, this one at Hyderabad. Man that he is, he promptly apologized once calm had returned.
Few have served Indian cricket as well as VVS. Of late, however, Laxman has not really been Laxman, especially when playing in more challenging conditions away from home. Restricted perhaps by age and a long-standing back complaint he has not been as mobile as he used to be. His footwork has been less certain, the runs have not come as before, and some are getting impatient. He has not been the only offender but he is probably the most vulnerable. I would have been inclined to offer him more time, but as the team is losing the calls for change cannot be ignored. Furthermore, it is the natural order of team sports that younger members succeed aging members and Team India is in need of rejuvenation.
If the rumors are true, then the Adelaide test might have been his last. I took a front row seat, hoping for one last glimpse of the Laxman we have come to appreciate. The fact that there was no grand final show, however, hardly matters. His many fans will always cherish the many hours of entertainment that he provided over his career. We hope he will be duly recognized for his great body of work. For if sport is primarily entertainment, then its primary entertainers should be its most prized assets.
More...
Normally, the sportsman who is seen as a back-to-the-wall performer, or as the man for a crisis, is not usually the man of ease. More often he is described as gritty, or tenacious?the man for a scrap. It would seem remarkable therefore, that the man to fill that position in the highly vaunted Indian batting line-up of the last decade or so would be VVS Laxman.
Perhaps The Wall would have been a better fit. After all, he is the possessor of probably the best defensive batting technique in the world, and has himself rescued his country on a number of occasions. But it has been Laxman, more than any other, who has specialized in bringing his country back from the dead. And the very, very, special thing about it is that he has always done it with such style.
He first took on the role in 2001 at the Eden Gardens. After being steamrolled by ten wickets in the first test, India was following on 274 behind a rampant Australia. Those were the days, remember, when the Aussies reigned o?er the cricketing world, the days of McGrath and Warne and Gillespie and Waugh and Waugh and Gilchrist and Hayden.
Last out for 59 batting at 6 in the first innings he was sent in at the fall of the first wicket. From there he fashioned an innings as unlikely and as sublime as the cricketing world had ever seen. His 281 lasted 452 balls and spanned 632 minutes and with comrade-in-arms Rahul Dravid, laid a platform from which they managed to contrive a most improbable victory. Since then he has often stood alone?guiding his team to implausible victory or staving of certain defeat.
But respectable though his record may be, and heroic his greatest deeds, neither are what draws me to his cricket. His appeal to me (and a great number of his many fans I suspect) is his presentation of batting as performance art. Disappointed at the curtailment of some his more promising recitals, I find myself silently cursing at the umpire who dared raise the finger in response to a LBW shout, or even his batting partner for not having contrived to face the offending delivery. Such was the allure of his batsmanship that every substantial innings by him triggered a throng of scribes competing for superlatives.
To see him lord it over a good bowling attack has been, for me, some of the most memorable moments I have had as a follower of cricket. Other batsmen have dominated opponents more: his teammate Virender Sehwag, for example, has been as brutal a batsman as there can ever have been; to witness Brian Lara treat an attack as if they existed only for his pleasure has been one of cricket?s great spectacles. But Laxman stands out for the poise and economy of effort with which goes about the business of scoring runs.
I have often stood amazed to see a ball that I thought, upon seeing the gentleness of the stroke, would travel no more than a few feet, race to the boundary at pace. One of the most amazing shots I have seen is Laxman skipping a yard outside leg stump to drive Shane Warne through the covers for four during his Eden Gardens extravaganza; never mind that earlier in that same innings he played a ball, pitched in a similar spot, to the leg side boundary. Give him a delivery just outside off-stump and he may cajole it to the cover boundary with the most nonchalant ease. Give him another, landing in the same general area, and it would be propelled through mid-on or mid-wicket with a flick of the most magical wrists in cricket.
At his best, Laxman was hardly ever troubled, never hurried, always elegant, very seldom violent. I saw him ruffled only once: while remonstrating with Ojha about his lackadaisical running during another of his death-defying epics against Australia, this one at Hyderabad. Man that he is, he promptly apologized once calm had returned.
Few have served Indian cricket as well as VVS. Of late, however, Laxman has not really been Laxman, especially when playing in more challenging conditions away from home. Restricted perhaps by age and a long-standing back complaint he has not been as mobile as he used to be. His footwork has been less certain, the runs have not come as before, and some are getting impatient. He has not been the only offender but he is probably the most vulnerable. I would have been inclined to offer him more time, but as the team is losing the calls for change cannot be ignored. Furthermore, it is the natural order of team sports that younger members succeed aging members and Team India is in need of rejuvenation.
If the rumors are true, then the Adelaide test might have been his last. I took a front row seat, hoping for one last glimpse of the Laxman we have come to appreciate. The fact that there was no grand final show, however, hardly matters. His many fans will always cherish the many hours of entertainment that he provided over his career. We hope he will be duly recognized for his great body of work. For if sport is primarily entertainment, then its primary entertainers should be its most prized assets.
More...
