This story starts in 1989 - which is definitely a pointer to the fact that I started blogging rather late in life. But I needed a really powerful push...
I am from St. Xavier's Collegiate School in Calcutta. I am going to be proud of that fact till the day I die.
In 1989 I moved to the Senior School building at St. Xavier's. That's because I was in Class 6 and I had to move. The Senior School housed upto Class 10 (in those days) and my classmates and I were not without trepidation at being the youngest lot.
We had inter-section football and cricket matches after school and while I was abysmal at the latter, I wasn't bad at the other. I often loitered around after school to watch the Class 10's play football. They were fast movers and seemed wickedly good at the game.
One day as I watched, the crowd seemed bigger than usual. My father said that that many people were watching because of a certain footballer and pointed him out - an ordinary looking chap in a white jersey and black shorts, darting all around. What's he done, I asked and was told that he had been selected for the Bengal Under-19 Cricket team and was making lots of runs for the state.
That was the first time I saw Sourav Ganguly. At 12 years of age, I wasn't sure how important playing for Bengal U-19 was. I also wasn't sure how a footballer could get selected for a cricket team. But like all 12 year olds, I borrowed from the admiration evident in my father's voice and decided that Sourav Ganguly was a great cricketer.
I car pooled in getting to school every morning. It was from there that I learnt that he was the Xavier's cricket team captain. As things would be, Raja Lahiri (name unchanged) in my car pool was in Class 10 and he was in the school cricket team too. He told us a little about this Ganguly. Stubborn as an ass, arrogant, but on the off-side, very very good...
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In about 2 years time, in 1992, Sourav Ganguly was selected to play for India against the West Indies. I knew about his Ranji performance in those 2 years and was old enough to decide that this Xaverian had indeed done well for himself. Bengal watched with rapt attention as one of its sons went in for India. Heightened expectations soon turned to disgusted disbelief - LBW on 3 runs!
I mean 3 runs? Who gets out on international debut on 3 runs? My father and his friends thundered and blamed and cursed and said that it was one more Bengali who was going to disappear after an insignificant appearance for the country...
I was heartbroken. Sourav-da out on 3? How could that be? He had been captain of Xavier's - didn't that say something? We are all waiting Sourav-da, for you. Please, please - for us, for Xavier's at least?
Sourav Ganguly was dropped in the next match and wasn't seen for a long time after that. I did see him though during that long absence though...
It was the middle of Class 9 and things were heating up for me on the academic front. In the sweltering Calcutta heat, my best friend Siddhant took me out for an afternoon swim to Tolly Club and athletic blessing that I am, I was panting within a couple of laps and decided to rest a bit on the sides as Siddhant toiled on in the waters.
There were just two other people in the poolside. One fairly attractive looking girl and her bearded and grumpy looking companion. Once in a while I managed to take my eyes off the girl and see if her companion had caught me looking at her yet. After a few furtive and anxious glances at the boy, I realised that I knew him.
What's become of you Sourav-da?! Beard and grumpiness? Where's the sparkling, smiling footballer I had seen on the St. Xavier's Senior School field 3 years back?
I wanted to go up and say that I believed and I cared - but didn't have enough courage.
I called Siddhant to come with me and say hi to him. He, for reasons unfathomable, refused. Now Siddhant is the easy, outgoing type and a person I owe most of my social skills to. But back then, I just got tongue-tied with new people and without Siddhant, I was just part of the scenery. He didn't like Sourav Ganguly in the same way I did. Possibly. I don't know.
I came back home excited and disappointed. I told my father about it. Largely reflecting the general opinion, he snorted that swimming with girls was all that Sourav Ganguly had proven himself fit for. I was aghast, hurt and angry.
Smarting with the insult, I went the next day in school to my favourite teacher - Elphage Rozario. I told him, I had seen Sourav Ganguly the earlier day and I asked him why most of Bengal seemed to think of him as a villain of sorts. Rozy (that's what we called him behind his back) laughed that off and went on to tell me how a few days prior, Sourav had stepped out of his car on sighting Rozy and stopped in the middle of the road to touch his feet.
Satisfied with this simple example, a very happy 15-year old left Rozy that day. In a way, in my mind Rozy allowed me to say what I had earlier been unable to :
"Sourav-da, I care and I believe..."
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Life undulated along. I heard about Sourav Ganguly now and then in the local papers and remembered him fondly and wished him well. It was 1996 and I had finished Class 12 and had been admitted to BITS Pilani. I was to leave Calcutta in a month's time. Near the end of June as I lazed around, my father rushed into the house clutching the newspaper and red with excitement...
In a faraway country and on a majestic cricket ground, Sourav Ganguly had reaffirmed with a hundred runs, the faith put in him by an unknown 15-year old.
He was the Cinderella Man!
You know the rest of the story. You should be well aware of what he gave us and what we gave him in return.
William Shakespeare wrote that you could become great in one of three ways. You could be born great (as is Sachin Tendulkar), you can acquire greatness (as did Rahul Dravid), or you could have greatness thrust upon you (as VVS Laxman did - and came out with flying colours I may add).
But old boy Bill didn't know Sourav Ganguly. For then he would have mentioned the person, who inspires all around him to greatness.
When Sachin retires, people will hail him as the World's Greatest Batsman. When Dravid retires, people will remember him for his resilience as The Wall. When Laxman signs off, he will be labelled the Australian Nightmare and the Indian Dream.
When Dada blazed into the sunset, a certain 15-year old (now more than twice that age) looked on in pride and awe and admiration and in the gratitude of a never-given promise kept.
Kept by the Cinderella Man.
