DEFEATED 2-0 in the one-day series; 1-0 in the Tests. Defeated by Derbyshire. Deserted by Navjot Sidhu. Handicapped by form: Vikram Rathore, Ajay Jadeja, Anil Kumble. Plagued by injuries: Sanjay Manjrekar, Sunil Joshi. Straddled with overweight players: Narendra Hirwani, Salil Ankola. A club-standard bowler, Paras Mhambrey. A captain who set no example on-field or off, a cricket manager who couldn't draw the line, ice-cold weather, poor umpiring....
If it's difficult to imagine that any good could have come out of a tour from which India returned without a single international win and with the heads of Mohammed Azharuddin and Sandeep Patil plonk on the chopping block, the simultaneous emergence of Saurav Gang-uly, Rahul Dravid and Venk-atesh Prasad should clear the air of despondency more than a little. For, it's around them, and Sachin Tendulkar, Javagal Srinath and Nayan Mongia, that the nucleus of future teams will be woven, give or take a casualty or two.
"It was an Indian summer at Lord's," exulted Joseph Hoover of the Bangalore daily, Deccan Herald, who was travelling with the team. "Three buds bloomed in full glory as the sun warmed the hearts of the hitherto-beleaguered Indians. Everything seemed lost for India for all of 50 days. Suddenly Ganguly, Dravid and Prasad sprung up in full brilliance." And blazed on. Added Azharuddin: "Prasad fulfilled the promise he had shown in the Asia Cup at Sharjah. The batting of Ganguly and Dravid was the best thing to happen here."
After baby faced Prasad bagged a five-wicket haul in only his second outing, at Lord's, (statemate Srinath is still searching for one after 20-odd Tests) Ganguly and Dravid showed they hadn't been affected by India playing just one Test for every 3.3 one-dayers. The 23-year-olds saved India on debut, made defeat impossible at Trent Bridge and, considering that they had made the team only because of the bulging sick-list, gave itinerant pundits the privilege of pondering over whether they would have worked a similar miracle in Edgbaston had they been in the side.
The gain virtually removed the pain. Ganguly's knocks (131, 136 and 48) proved that Bengalis can not only watch cricket but play it, too. No indigenous Bengali had played the game at the international level since Pronob Roy in 1981. (Arun Lal and Ashok Malhotra were expats from the north; Dilip Doshi came from England.) Pronob's father Pankaj Roy was the last regular Indian player from Bengal, and that was in the 1950s. Ganguly and Dravid (95, 84 and 8) achieved one other feat. They took a shot at Bombay's historical dominance of the Indian batting line-up.
The selection of both had been panned by critics. A big hoo-ha broke out when Dravid wasn't picked for the World Cup squad. Some suggested that the Marathi-speaking youngster should shift to Bombay for 'tactical' reasons. But a string of poor scores in Singapore and Sharjah put a question mark over whether he was ready for big-time yet. Luckily, the chairman of the selection committee, Gundappa Viswanath, who considers a double ton Dravid hit against Andhra Pradesh as the best knock he has seen, stood by the India 'A' hero. England was no bed of roses but the flight of Sidhu gave the break.
Ganguly, of course, had been everybody's favourite whipping boy. "You mean to say it was right to pick him?" asked a leading sports journalist after the team was picked, and the usual cries of 'quota' had rent the air. Considered a teenage prodigy when he made the team in 1990, Ganguly spent five years in the wilderness after a lone onedayer against the West Indies in Australia in which he scored three runs. His privileged upbringing—he has a cricket pitch and an indoor gymnasium in his home—worked against him in much the same manner as the lack of it does in the case of Vinod Kambli. Said Ganguly: "I didn't mind being criticised, but they should have given me a chance."
Teammates and officials painted the not very untrue picture of a pampered babu-moshai who resented being called Raju because his nickname is Maharaj, who refused to do drinks duty if he was 12th man, was reluctant to bend while fielding, wouldn't carry his kit, etc. But Ravi Shastri, who saw the Boy from Behala stand tall while the men around him were falling like nine pins in the Bombay-Bengal Ranji Trophy finals two seasons ago, marked him out as a player to watch. Domestic success still did not convince the critics. Dilip Vengsarkar—possibly the next chairman of the selection committee—still maintains Ganguly shouldn't have been picked overlooking Vinod Kambli. Azhar and Sandeep Patil too objected when Ganguly's name came up. But Viswanath put his foot down.
In England, Ganguly found his metier: "I waited five years. I was determined to prove myself." He showed seldom-seen serenity at the crease, immense concentration and picked the right balls to hit and defend, the very qualities the Indian bats-men lacked at the first Test at Edgbaston. He not only topped the batting averages at 105, but also led the bowling figures. Wrote Jon Culley in The Independent: "Ganguly's performance proves he was a victim if not of prejudice, then of preconceived notions about his capability." Added Richie Benaud: "Young batsmen should have good footwork and good balance while attacking and defending. Ganguly has both."
Father Chandi Ganguly, a Calcutta printing baron, former secretary of the Cricket Association of Bengal and an MCC member, long accused of promoting his son's career in tandem with BCCI President Jagmohan Dalmiya, received the accolades coolly. "Performance is the last word. Maharaj proved it," he said. But the critics left no adjective unturned. "Centuries in his first two Test innings provided incontrovertible proof of his ability, nothing more soothing on the eye than his backfoot cover drive," said David Hopps of The Guardian.
Admittedly, two or even three swallows do not an Indian summer make. Ganguly and Dravid clicked in the Tests when the conditions were more suitable. Although many see Dravid's technique and temperament as ideally suited for an opener, he has still to prove that he can retain them when the innings is new and the heat is on. Ganguly, on the other hand, has walked in when the ball has been barely a dozen overs old and proved more than a match to it.
Ditto Prasad. The late bloomer (he took to cricket just eight years ago) is the first fully-finished product of the MRF face academy. He mixed his outswingers with the ones that came in, and that the ones that slowed down, with astounding success to end the series with 15 wickets in the bag. But reining the Jayasuriyas and Sohails of the world, not the Athertons and Hicks, will be the sterner test. Even Roger Binny managed to do all that Prasad did, in 1990.
But so short (and so hungry) are we of heroes and heroics that hyprocrisy has turned into hyperbole at the first whiff of success. Ganguly, whose selection was criticised by everybody who had seen a cricket bat, is now being hailed as the Bengali Bradman. ESPN, whose Indian commentators could not see beyond Bombay, has now lined up a special programme, Gan-guly at Lord's. And Prasad and Srinath are being called the best Indian new ball pair since Amar Singh and Mohammed Nissar.
The truth, unfortunately, is that cricket is a crazy sport. Till Ganguly (suspect against the rising ball) PTI and Dravid (suspect on the off-side) show nerves of steel against the Caribbean and Pakistani speed merchants and Prasad comes good against the Brian Laras and Mark Waughs, there is no guarantee that their show in England was no flash in the pan. But what the hell, let's savour the moment. There's hope. Weren't we all wondering if this was the end of Indian cricket when the first Test ended?
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