by Arunabha Sengupta
The hat-trick at Eden. The 32 wickets during that series. The second highest was 3, captured by Zaheer Khan and Tendulkar. India still won, which lends new dimensions to the term single-handed bowling effort.
There are many such memories of the Turbanator with the ball, the 400-plus wickets, the passionate posture of his appeal, the boundless joy of a wicket, the feisty passion and zeal to win.
Yet, for all his off-spinning feats, what delighted me most perhaps was his exploits with the bat. To me, one of the most entertaining sights in cricket was Harbhajan Singh scoring runs in his inimitable style.
Even in that series against Australia, as much as his legendary bowling deeds stick to my memory, what brings forth the widest smile is the recollection of India requiring 3 to win with two wickets in hand, Harbhajan essaying a double handed forehand cross court to mid-off and sprinting a single off Gillespie, and then steering a vicious McGrath delivery almost off his stumps past point to run the couple that decided the series. And of course the associated punches in the air as he touched down before turning for the second run.
The delights of cricket go beyond dexterity and skill. While artistry and technique are very much the elements of batsmanship that makes us return to the ground over and over again, almost willing our maestros into orchestrating spontaneous encores, the raw excitement of engaging in a game of chance and coming out the winner has its own attractions.
When Harbhajan got going and manufactured yet another stroke from unwritten handbooks that will never share shelf or library with coaching manuals, the spectators went through the same thrill that one feels when a pair of dice rolls on the green velvety surface of casino tables, the closing bell rings on the day's business of stock market or the notice board puts up the result of an entrance examination.
And he did that often. He had his share of talent with the willow. Two Test centuries, back to back no less, is no small feat. His resistance against Australia Down Under showed plenty of character.
However, my favourite bits were when he cut loose and threw the cricketing grammar book out of the window.
In many a sense, Test cricket resembles life. As in events outside the stadium, not everything plays out according to script. A lot depends on chance.
In life, many a time we have to stick to endeavours not entirely suited to our skills and potential. Circumstances in life make us work at jobs that we hate, sometimes live with people we abhor, make career choices based on wants and not desires, take up unwanted responsibility because of personal situations.
Hence we tend to look at sportsmen as diversion from drudgery, touched with a tinge of envy, grudgingly accepting that here is someone who is doing what he loves, someone blessed with the choice of fate.
However, here is where cricket brings shades of realism into the proceedings. Especially when a tailender walks out to bat or when a part time bowler rolls his arm over.
Seldom in any other sport is a player called upon to perform something that is not his craft, trying to grope their way through something they are not comfortable at, while being under the spotlight, with millions watching across the world. A Michael Johnson is never asked to run the marathon. A Diego Maradona is never asked to stand under the bar as ten others romped around the field. The closest one can think of is Ivan Lendl huffing and puffing on grass, trying to get his hands on that elusive Wimbledon title.
But, in cricket, a Harbhajan Singh has to put his pads on and go out to bat. Even men less gifted than he. And when the not so gifted men battle the guile of the masters of the trade to end up on top, the spectators are treated to a sight of hope, the victory of the underdog.
The charm of cricket lies as much in these small sidelights as in the triumph of talent. Not one of the seventeen five wicket hauls contributing to 307 test wickets delighted Fred Truemann more than any of his three first class centuries. 'Scratch the surface of any fast bowler and you will find a very frustrated batsman' he used to say in his inimitable Yorkshire drawl. And for the hundreds of tormenting deliveries bowled by Glen McGrath, his brightest smile was flashed the day he got his only fifty at the highest level. I wonder whether either of his triple hundreds made Virender Sehwag as happy as his five wicket haul
Life is a struggle against destiny. Men keep trying to ward off the unseen reverse swings and googlies of fate bowled at them on the wicket of life, pitching hesitant decisions into the fray, hoping fortunes won't come striding out to hit them out of the ground. Here a nightwatchman scoring a century, the tail ender hanging in for four hours to save a test match, the part time leg spinner bowing on the fifth day footmarks and picking up vital wickets in the fourth innings are symbols of faith. Proof that one can survive and succeed even against intimidating odds. It is the coup of hope over destiny, of grit and luck against the odds of logic and nature.
And when Harbhajan Singh stroked his way to a hundred, we could rejoice. It restored belief that turning the table on fate caould be achieved with a sense of frolic, with unrestrained relish for impossibility, with a bubbling sense of humour, a twinkling eye on the lighter side of life.
Harbhajan Singh was born on 3 July 1980.