As I watched Kumar Sangakkara play his final international
match today, as I saw him tear up delivering his heartfelt farewell speech and as
I kept a straight face when my favorite active cricketer become a former
player, I thought that I will never be able to express the myriad emotions I felt.
It was easy to watch his T20 swansong in 2014, even though
my team was losing, because he scored the match-winning innings. It was easy to
write about his ODI swansong earlier this year, with his illustrious career and
records, may be because I knew there was more to come. But there was nothing
today. What do you say when all you feel is numb as the last link to your
childhood obsession is out and what do you write about someone who has been the
mainstay in the media for the past few weeks. So I decided to just type and
type and type which resulted in this stream-of-consciousness blog post.
This is not an eloquent tribute to the Sri Lankan legend,
this is not a cricketing or statistical analysis of why he was ‘underrated’
genius, this isn’t even a recollection of his many virtues as gleaned from interviews
and my minimal interactions with him. This is an honest outpouring of why Kumar
Sangakkara is my favorite. This is a fangirl talking about what her role model
means to her.
First things first, supporting Sangakkara as an Indian cricket
fan hasn’t been easy. The number of times I have been trolled and ridiculed for
supporting the ‘excessive appealing’, ‘sledging’, ‘cheating captain’ of a rival
team, both on and off line, was enough to dent anyone’s faith (or fanaticism.) Like the time I was targeted for defending skipper
Sanga when Suraj Randiv bowled a no-ball
to Virender Sehwag stuck on 99 to deny him a ton in India’s win, or the time
when my inbox was full of insults when I posted that Sanga had correctly called
the 2011 World Cup finals toss the first time during the match.
Had I been a fan of a lesser cricketer or if there was even
an inkling of doubt on his sportsmanship, my loyalty may have wavered. But no,
I was a fan of a player who radiated such passion on field and conviction off
it, as a cricket fan you had to believe him and in him. (And as a teenager,
even love him.)
But then again, it is hard not to love a guy who had the
aura of ‘geeky gentleman’ around him, possibly a first in cricket. Who else can
quote Oscar Wilde’s ‘consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative’ to a
player like Kallis on field! While I can’t
say how true this is (when I asked him about this episode, all I got was his boyish
laughter in response,) his video sledging Shaun Pollock in his typical-accented
English during the 2003 World Cup assures me that he did pull some classic and
classy shenanigans on field. (As does his wicked laughter in response to seeing
the Pollock clip during an interview.)
But the same cocky laughter had another facet, the calm, composed
smile. Picture the following incidents –
He is playing a crucial test against Australia on their home
turf, there is actually a chance of his underdog team winning it, he is nearing
a well learned double century and he is wrongly given out. All he does is walk
away and calmly accept the umpire’s apology later.
He has played one of his finest ODI knocks, carrying his bat
throughout the innings and giving his team a formidable total only to have the
Indian wicketkeeper-batsman smash his record and bowlers. He congratulates the
opposition with a calm smile.
He has played in the finals of four consecutive World
championship finals, only to lose all of them. But he doesn’t lose his smile at
the post-match ceremony. In fact, I vividly recall his face when Dhoni hit that
six of Kulsekara; he had a serene smile and congratulated Mahi-Yuvi before
giving one of the most gracious runner-up speeches in the tournament’s history,
his calm unfazed. (He had the same composed reaction when he returned to Lanka
the next day and was greeted by cheering fans.)
He is returning home to his pregnant wife after being caught
in a terrorist shoot-out in foreign country and being air-lifted from a cricket
stadium. He should be terrified but he has a reassuring smile when he talks
about it and is even able to joke about his teammate Paranvithana being shot
later.
He is leading a team that hasn’t been paid in months by an organisation
riddled with petty politics. Yet he manages that serene smile and ensures that
he not only exposes the politicking on a global platform but also that the
players get their due, monetary and otherwise.
(The only time I remember him being losing the composed façade is when he
scored that much-awaited century at Lords in 2014 and pumped his hands in an
exaggerated celebration.)
A lesser person would probably not have survived all this
with their record and reputation unscathed. A lesser player would have reacted
angrily, thrown a fit, been broken or unsporting. But Sangakkara carried on, played
his game, lead his team, brought about change in the system and made a
difference to his country on a larger level. Seriously, how could one not love
this guy!
Cricket aside, Sangakkara is unique in many other respects.
An aspiring lawyer from Trinity, Kandy who speaks with the tone and flair of one
from Oxford. He loves U2 and Oscar Wilde but is true to his roots when it comes
to his country’s pride. A witness to war and strife at a young age, he speaks so
fearlessly against anti-national elements, many see a future politician (or
diplomat if Sirisena succeeds) in him. Yet at the same time he is a cheesy
romantic whose love stories (both wife and cricket) sound too idealistic to be
true. A smart, sharply-dressed celebrity whose penchant for different
hairstyles is matched only by his bespoke fashion sense. A voracious reader who
is known to have no ghost writer. A responsible citizen who has helped rebuild
his country after civil war and tsunami, supporting numerous charities and
generally making a difference to anyone who met him.
I know several people, of different nationalities and backgrounds,
who interacted with him and had only words of praise. In fact the only people I
ever heard bad mouth Sangakkara were on Twitter, mainly (and sadly) Indians who
either hated his guts or found his team/cricket boring. Of course, it is beyond
me how anyone can find his stylish, southpaw strokes boring, but then again he himself
has confessed that he finds his cover drive ugly, (but even he can be wrong
sometimes!) However, ugly or not, the his sheer statistical success cannot be
denied and even if he thinks that Ranatunga and Jayawardena are better batsmen
than him, he leaves the game as the second most successful batsman after
Tendulkar.
Which brings me back to today, 24 August, the last time I saw
Sangakkara play international ‘crickut’. I saw the usually calmly-smiling Sanga
tear up as he delivered his farewell speech, his short hair streaked with grey
now as he called curtains on a 15-year long career. And then I remembered the
dashing, long-haired wicketkeeper-bat I saw in the early 2000s as a kid; the
messy-haired, flamboyant No 3 I had a crush on as teen; the mature, suited-booted
player who delivered a striking blow in a mild-manner at his 2011 Spirit of
Cricket lecture; the scruffy, smiling guy who was so impressed when I spoke to
him in Sinhalese and wanted to know about my plans for the future; the weirdly-shaped
helmet clad batsman I saw from the stands of the Brabourne Stadium, and all I
could think is that cricket will never be the same again, not for me.
Stephen Chbosky wrote in his cult novel ‘The Perks of being
a Wallflower’, “I didn’t think it was
very good because I didn’t feel any different when it was over.” Well it is over now and I feel the difference.
Farewell & Thank you for the memories, Sangakkara.