By Garfield Robinson
My son Zachary is 9 years old and likes to ask me to list my favorite things. Knowing of my love for cricket, he recently asked me to name my favorite cricketer. “VVS Laxman” I told him. “What team does he play for?” “India.” “But your favorite team is the West Indies.” “Yes, but I like watching Laxman play more than any other player.” “So what happens when India play the West Indies daddy?” I then had to explain that though I have always wanted the West Indies to win, I still hoped for Laxman to do well. Not as well as the 176 he racked up against us on our last visit though, but I’m sure you get my drift.
It is always a treat to see him play. Many were the nights that I fought to stay awake to watch him while sleep beckoned, knowing that if he had a good day at the crease then listlessness would ensure that I had a less than fruitful one at work. Occasionally I would doze off before he came, like I did during the Sydney test of 2007, and so missed the beginning of his gorgeous 109. More often, however, I saw every ball, every boundary, every wristy flick through mid-wicket, and every elegant cover-drive.
VVS has been India’s miracle worker. Time and again he--more than any other—was the one who stood up when India had lost all hope. So adept is he at rescuing his country, and fashioning victory out of thin air, that opponents dared not think they were home free until he had safely returned to the pavilion.
At Hyderabad in 2010, batting with the tail, and hampered by a bad back, he guided India to a victory in a game that very few thought they could have won. Those few, mind you, might well have included the Australian team, for Laxman had often saved his very best for them. Of his 17 hundreds, 6 have been against Australia, and while his overall average is 45.97, it is 49.67 against Australia, despite averaging only 19.37 on his last tour there. He has been such a scourge to the mighty Australians that Ricky Ponting once offered that his scalp was the most prized in the line-up. A line-up, remember, that included Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid.
His greatest innings of all was against the Aussies too. In 2001, at the Eden Gardens he made the whole cricketing world sit up and take notice. India was following-on 274 behind and the score was 52/1 when he joined the fray. He departed at 608/5 and his innings marked the turning point of the series.
But perhaps even more staggering than the enormity of his 281 was the masterly manner in which they were made. Laxman unveiled his full mouth-watering repertoire for all to look on and drool. He dismissed the all-conquering Australian attack, including Warne and McGrath, to all parts of the Eden Gardens, seemingly disturbing every blade of grass in the process. It was one of cricket’s great innings.
He is not really moved by the mundane; he is only stirred by the impossible, or at least the very difficult. It is as if easy runs never interested him. Sure, he gorges himself from time to time when cheap runs are available, but the simple task just doesn’t seem to concentrate his mind.
On a placid surface where run making was commonplace he might waft airily at one outside off and put wicketkeeper or slips in business; or play lazily across an innocuous straight one and get hit in front. Confront him, on the other hand, in a death-match on a crumbling last day pitch, chasing an improbable total, with the top order gone for little, and you will have a heck of a time avoiding the very middle of his classy bat. In the direst situation you’d think he was batting in his backyard against the neighborhood children. No matter the intensity of the scrap there is always the liquid ease, the deceptive timing, the high art.
It is received cricketing wisdom that Indian batsmen, brought up on docile surfaces at home, struggle to cope on very lively surfaces. Yet on a bouncy Kingsmead track in 2010, a wicket Laxman said was amongst the toughest he had encountered, India was engaged in a second innings struggle to set South Africa a decent total to chase. With 6 for 50, Dale Steyn’s wickedly late away swing was almost unplayable in the first innings, while Morne Morkel’s steep bounce was threatening rib cage and grill. Laxman proceeded to score 96 in a game where nobody else from either side reached 40 and led his side to victory on a pitch that many pundits thought--especially after they succumbed meekly in the previous test--was much too spicy for them.
I hear he is disturbed by the fact that he never played more one-day cricket, and especially that he never played in a single world cup. I understand why he would be disappointed; he scores in so many areas that it is difficult to restrict him when he is at the top of his game. And which international cricketer wouldn’t want to display his wares on cricket’s biggest stage?
But I can understand why he wasn’t chosen too. He is not a big hitter. Of his 8781 test runs, only 30 came in sixes. Though a good slip catcher, he is rather lumbering in the outfield. It is the test match arena that is really his stage. And he has enjoyed many grand performances on it.
VVS is also one of the game’s gentlemen. He once lost his usual composure and erupted in a screaming rage at Praejen Ojha because of his lackadaisical running during the miraculous fight back against Australia at Hyderabad. It seemed, at the time, that only the distance between them prevented him from administering a physical reprimand. But being the kindly soul that he is he apologized when things had settled down. I have seen him simply shrug his shoulders when verbally challenged by frustrated fast bowlers. His business is scoring runs and the banter is left up to the broad vocabulary of his bat.
Zachary has shown some interest in cricket. But growing up in the USA, a land where cricket is an alien sport it is possible that he might wander off. I am watching. And if I see him straying I will sit him down and show him clips of the very, very special one at his elegant best. That should be enough to get him back in line.
