Right time to walk away

In the withering footprints of time, memory frays and fades. Nothing is permanent. We all submerge in a sea of immeasurable eternity that has no beginning, no end. These thoughts surface from time to time, especially in the context of sporting icons whose great past is well behind them, or those who are on the verge of realising the limits of immortality.

One of the most traumatic images that haunts me even today, though nearly two decades have passed since I was a witness to it, is that of watching two of my idols dragging themselves off the ground with a painful limp. The 2007 World Cup in West Indies is remembered for India’s disastrous exit in the first round. I remember it more for watching two of the greatest athletes cricket has known struggling to hold their knees firm and walk with stuttering steps. It induced sadness, even fear in me then; it does even now.

Anyone who is alive to cricketing feats of the 1950s-60s can’t help but be a Garry Sobers fan. Rarely has potential, promise, all-round skill merged with supreme athletic abilities to produce a sportsman like him. Even today, his name evokes awe and a gasp in infinite admiration for the seemingly impossible feats achieved with ease and elegance.

And anyone having followed cricket in the 1970s will never forget the sight of Andy Roberts, pounding the ground with his powerful, strong legs, sprinting towards the batsmen and unleashing the ball, combining impeccable length with furious speed and pace. You could feel fear all around. You could see it in the eyes of the batsman. You could sense it among the spectators. Roberts was the demon of his time, slaying hapless batsmen fearing the safety of their limbs.

Now imagine watching the two, many decades after they had etched their names in memory and history, live and alive at a cricket ground. What should have been a moment of ecstatic joy for a fan turned into a meditative reflection on life and its wistful reality. Sobers and Roberts, arm in arm, both old, grey and limping towards the shade of the pavilion is in my mind’s eye like a photo frame, a reminder of how transient existence is.

That brings me to the present and the oft-repeated debate on a terrific career nearing its end and what is the right time to walk away from the centre stage. Longevity in sports is just like longevity in life. Everyone has an expiry date, even if you are a Virat Kohli or a Rohit Sharma. Both no longer play in the cricket’s chess game called Tests. Neither do they live in the rapid-fire world of T-20. They are hanging on to the middle-path — the 50-over game — and are still good at playing it. Nothing in the past suggests that they should quit, withdraw and let the very young take their place.

Yet the debate will rage on, just as it did when Kapil Dev was playing and closer to our time, when Rahul Dravid and Sachin Tendulkar were. Greatness does not grant immunity from criticism, especially when it comes to what is the right time to go. Sunil Gavaskar once famously said, “Retire when people ask why, and not when they ask why not.” Gavaskar followed his own words but most cricketers find it difficult, if not impossible, to figure out that perfect time between “why” and “why not”.

I often wonder, what do sportspersons feel once they are past their prime? Do they themselves feel their prowess is waning and they can no longer repeat with unerring perfection the skills they possess? It must be difficult to face the harsh reality of realising the gulf developing between the mind’s desire and the body’s response. To make that final decision, to willingly cut the umbilical cord requires more than mere courage. It requires an equanimous state of mind, that knows one’s time is over and now is the right moment to walk away.

The dazzling glare of the limelight can’t last forever. If you hold on to it longer than needed, it can even blind you to alternate possibilities, for life ends only when it fully ends.

Rohit, the achiever of great glories, especially in white ball cricket, may have been harshly dealt with by stripping him of his captaincy. He may be closer to his finish line, but hasn’t crossed it yet and deserved a more fitting farewell than being sacked as captain. The sounds emanating from those who make life and death decisions are not too welcoming and both Rohit and Kohli are being made to feel as unwanted guests. Mercifully, both have been given a lifeline. Given what the two have achieved so far and the extraordinary skills they possess, the challenge thrown to their egos may just be the motivation they need to produce their near best and prove their detractors wrong.

The likes of Rohit and Kohli are rare talents, game-changers whose contribution to Indian cricket can’t be scoffed at. The troubling image of the limping Sobers and Roberts that I can never shake off is a reminder of how time never comes back, even if its memory may not leave you. In this vortex of life, every day is a new day. Value it, respect it in real-time, for the world never stays the same.

— The writer is the author of ‘Not Quite Cricket’ and ‘Not Just Cricket’