The Cricket Interview/Mohammad Azharuddin
'Out there, you are all alone...'
Amrit Mathur
Following his return to the Indian team, Azhar
understandably looked
relaxed and satisfied.
There he was, seated in a corner of the
dressing room -- like all seniors, he too wants to be alone, preferring
to keep a safe distance from others, choosing to operate from
a position of glorious isolation, in a manner of speaking.
Around him was the normal mess of any cricket dressing room. In
the centre was a large table filled with food, cluttered with
leftovers and uncleared dishes. The medical box occupied another
table. Dirty clothes were strewn all around, track
suits and shirts hung from every conceivable hook on the wall,
newspapers were strewn on the floor, shoes and assorted cricket gear
were carelessly dumped any old how...
In the area surrounding Azhar, however, order prevailed. Next to where he sat, neatly placed against the
wall, stood Azhar's various SG bats -- lightweight weapons that
enable him to wristily direct the ball into vacant gaps much to
the annoyance of the fielding side. Other players use heavier
instruments to bludgeon the ball but Azhar, looking for timing
and deft placement, always uses the lighter bats. Not surprising perhaps, because the guiding principle of his batting is finesse not force.
"I am happy to be back," he said in his usual soft voice. "I hope I
make runs to prove myself all over again."
Azhar, after 12 years of international cricket, apparently realises now that regardless
of past achievements, you are only as good as your last innings. Today, success has to be constant -- failure invites excoriation, demands change, reputations quickly made are unmade even faster, and the only constant is the pressure to perform, to produce.
Being good is no longer enough - you have to be seen to be good. Time and time again.
Azhar concedes the existence of this pressure on him today, but says he has learnt to cope. "Before any tournament, tour, or Test, one is nervous, but that
is part of the game. You must control this feeling of tension, learn
to focus and improve performance," he says, softly. "Pressure is there, too, from the expectations
of people, but one has learnt to live with it. Actually, all these
things weigh on your mind only till you get into the middle. Once
out there, you are totally alone -- with a bat in your hand, and a bowler before you."
Though delighted to be back, Azhar makes no effort to hide his disappointment
at missing the Independence Cup. Tightening his Reebok batting
spikes, he says the tournament to celebrate 50 years of India's
freedom was special. "I would have loved to have been part of that celebration," he says.
Obviously, getting sacked has hurt his ego, the fact that for the first time in his career he had been dumped came as a rude jolt. But a
strong inner faith in his ability, a high level of fitness and
the strong values imbibed from his grandfather kept him going, he says.
"He is the major influence in my life," says Azhar fondly, as he recalls his grandfather. "He was
strict, he always thought it was first necessary to be a good human being, that sports, success, all were secondary to that goal. Education was essential -- I was not
allowed to take a job till I completed graduation."
In many ways, Azhar's cricketing education is just continuing. Recently, his artistic batting style has acquired a murderous
intensity, as witness the assault on Lance Klusener in Calcutta.
And at the same time -- such are the paradoxes of cricket -- a certain fraility. Today, an Azhar innings is breathtaking while it lasts. But when
an ambitious cover drive ends as a slashed drive to slip, he looks all too human.
Such dismissals, and an inability to graft for longish intervals,
have led to questions about his commitment to team interest. And while
it is unfair to doubt the sincerity of India's most experienced
player, unhappiness over a senior player reducing batting to a lottery
is understandable.
And to an extent, Azhar compounded the problem by
making statements about "enjoying the game" --
which were promptly construed to mean he placed personal interest
ahead of team welfare.
Now, returning to the team, he says he is determined to clear his name.
More so because the end of a glorious career is in sight. At the moment, he is fit as the proverbial fiddle,
lean and strong, a superb fielder, extremely quick and alert.
Yet, a couple of years down the line, he could melt into Indian
cricket history, known as a glorious player who in his time provided enjoyment, at times even amazement, to fans and connoisseurs alike.
In a way he is already preparing himself for this final, most
crucial test. "There is nothing more important than respect,"
he says with feeling. "Today, people respect me as a player,
but I'd consider myself successful only if they still come to
me after retirement. Lots of good players are neglected after
their active playing days are over. To me goodwill, name and respect even after
I have had my innings is what matters. I want to be known as a
good human being."
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