The fifth morning of the third Test match between India and South Africa in Kanpur last month was a busy one for Ravi Sha -stri. As ESPN began its live telecast, Shastri analysed the previous day's play with Harsha Bhogle, batted for India in his debate with Trevor Quirk, did the pitch report from the middle, and rushed back to the commentary box to join David Hookes before the umpire could call "Play".
Hookes: "All over the place, Raaavi?"
Shastri: "Some people have to work for a living, Hookesie."
SEEMS sacrilegious to ask, but has Ravi Shastri stolen some of Sunil Gavaskar's thunder as commentator? Shastri, 34, won't even broach it: "I'm only two-and-a-half years old in this, just a student. Sunny's been doing it for a long, long time; he's one of the finest." But cricketers and broadcasters are making soft, discreet inquiries if the protege is beginning to give The Little Master a good run for his money.
There are no easy answers. In an avocation where experience is a vital stat, Gavaskar brooks no comparison. He has played more Tests (125) than Shastri (80), scored more runs (10,122 to 3,830), hit more tons (34 to 11). But Shastri has "come on so well" lately that South African cricket boss Dr Ali Bacher walked up to him and said: "Richie Benaud's the best. After that, it's you and Ian Chappell."
It's an extraordinary compliment for a newcomer in the business to be ranked alongside the big two. Especially for one who's "shtill shum dishtance" away from Benaud's vision and Chappell's colour and candour. But "self-belief bordering on arrogance" is, has always been, such a strong point with Shastri that he already treasures Bacher's remark among his most memorable moments.
Bacher's proposition can't be put to test yet because freelance Shastri has not accompanied STAR's Gavaskar to South Africa, a fact that has not gone unnoticed among observers. (The break has let Shastri spend only his third week at home in all 1996!) But Gavaskar himself puts the murmurs to rest: "Ravi has matured into a good commentator with superb knowledge of the game."
Clearly, India's best captain who wasn't has found his metier. The man jeered for not giving a damn to spectators while he played dourly for country and cause, is now cheered as he marches on to the ground nattily-dressed, cellphone in hand, with a trademark
"In '94, I began to look for Indian cricketers interested in doing commentary. At that time, there was only one world class commentator, Gavaskar, and we needed more. So, I called my friend Bharat Reddy and asked him to get in touch with Shastri and see if he would be interested in taking a shot at the mike in the 1994 Singer World Series in Sri Lanka. Ravi was still playing cricket at that time. But he was enthusiastic about the opportunity and two days into the job in Colombo, he decided to retire from international cricket."—Mark Mascarenhas, WorldTel
HAVING just led a young Mumbai team to a Ranji Trophy triumph, Shastri could have soldiered on, waiting for a recall to the national side. But with his old knee injury resurfacing, he knew he would have to dig deep for the motivation to carry on, and then pray for the selectors' mercy.
Too many cricketers had messed up their lives that way. On the other hand, the Wills World Cup was round the corner. There were exciting media opportunities opening up that could help him "escape from the anonymity of clerical serfdom". Also, for one who thought so deeply of the game and read it better than most others, sitting high up behind the stumps "with a chance to stamp my personality" provided the ideal opportunity. So he said yes to Mark, who also held the TV rights for the quadrennial showpiece.
There were no regrets that he didn't lead the nation more than once (to victory, in Dilip Vengsarkar's absence). "It speaks a lot for the character of a man if, in a country of 900 million, he has been among 'the' eleven for over a decade," Shastri says. He knew he was nearing the end of the road. And precisely what turn to take next. "After having lived in the fast lane for so long, we knew it was going to be tough shifting to a lower gear all of a sudden. Life as a commentator, as a mediaman, enabled a lifestyle he was used to," wife Ritu said after his resignation. With satellite sports channels coming in, commentators were being paid international wages upwards of $1,000 (Rs 35,000) per day, not the paltry Rs 300 Doordarshan paid. So, it was goodbye cricket, welcome cricket.
In fall '94, Shastri worked on the West Indies' India tour . The following season he was with ESPN. Then came the World Cup, the Singer Cup, the Sahara Cup and the Titan Cup. The ultimate accolade came at the end of a BBC telecast when Benaud said on air: "It was a great privilege working with Shastri." The crossover had been comfortable. "There's a lot that's similar between cricket and commentary," says Shastri. "Both demand discipline, concentration, timing and hard work. One mistake and it's all over. There's no retake."
"I may be cautious to an extent but I never sit on the fence."—Ravi Shastri
"He's frank, speaks out his mind and hence the general public enjoys his comments."—Mohinder Amarnath
"He's not tense, he's having a lot of fun."—Harsha Bhogle
SHASTRI still says little that's new, mostly seconding what his co-commentators say ("That's right, Tony /Ian"). He can get terribly dull and cliched ("That'll go all the way"). And he continues to repeat the boo-boo that has earned him an entry in the Guinness Book of Cricket Blunders: "He played with his feet well away from his body".
But Shastri the commentator is a lot that Shastri the cricketer wasn't. The latter had the standard Mumbai mindset. Capable of hitting six sixes in an over a la Gary Sobers but the dogged fighter who could bore the pants off the spectator.
He was also the typical safety-first Tata employee type. With two runs to win of the last over in the 1986-87 Madras Test against the Aussies, Shastri took a single to ensure we didn't lose the match, even if we didn't win it. Result: a tie.
In the box, though, he's dropped his guard. The comments are sharp, incisive. Bhogle says he isn't afraid of saying things unpalatable to the viewer. The debates with Quirk showed he could be spontaneous; the gentle bantering with Geoff Boycott showed he had a sense of humour.
His colleagues say that 80 Tests and 150 one-dayers give Shastri the contemporaneity other commentators lack. Says he: "I've played with Gavaskar, Clive Lloyd and Imran Khan in the '80s. And I've also played with Sachin Tendulkar, Brian Lara and Mark Waugh who will go into the 21st century. Six years down the line, it won't be the same. There'll be new faces, I'll have to do more homework."
Oldtimers like Raju Bharatan say Shastri's hard work shows. In the box, says Bhogle, Shastri is always asking Chappell and Boycott questions. Shastri says he doesn't try to ape anybody, but he obviously loves the Aussies ("tough ask"). "Ravi worked very hard to be where he is today. He told me he got hold of a shortwave radio and listened to a tremendous amount of English and Australian commentary preparing himself to go on air," says Quirk.
"What places Ravi above other commentators is his tremendous credibility," says former England cricketer Robin Jackman, who covered the South African tour with Shastri for ESPN. "He's articulate and very good. And very impartial."
That—impartiality—is the sword by which commentators live or die. "While you can otherwise bet your sweet backside rooting for India," says he, "when in the box, you've to keep your passions aside." Jackman says Shastri does that well. "During the mock debates with Quirk, he was four-square behind India. But when the real game began, and Gary Kirsten batted magnificently, Shastri could not stop complimenting him. Conversely, if Sachin Tendulkar made a mistake, he would be the first to criticise. Ravi never used the word "we" when India was playing."
There's a gleam as he receives the accolades, lying spread-eagled with his labradors, Bima and Bouncer, in his plush Sportsfield house overlooking the Arabian Sea in the central Mumbai suburb of Worli. The bookshelves are lined with books—on what else? cricket—and lots of money plants. It's been a long year and he's soaking it in.
