The Dawn Of Brandman

HIS cricketing genius was in any case bound to bloom whatever the milieu. But, be reasonable, without the gush of the so-called economic reforms and liberalisation, Sachin Tendu-lkar would not have come to attain the celebrity status—and the consequential affluence—he has attained. This calls for some cogitation. Sachin has ordinary, very ordinary middle class roots; his mental horizon in the initial phase at least was, one can safely say, constricted by the imagery and folklore that attaches to the humdrum Shivaji Park neighbourhood. And yet, the inner talent had to be out; this brat had the natural flair for hitting a cricket ball to all seemingly impossible directions by virtue of his ability to assume all seemingly impossible stances with the bat. He soon learnt the technique that goes with great batting.

It is pointless to ask why he amongst the hundreds of thousands of aspirants to cricket fame has managed to reach the highest peak of glory. This is where the role of genius enters the picture, and, along with it, the role of historical accidents. Perhaps the circumstances were just right, perhaps Shri Achrekar discovered a way of tutoring him which was not one hundred per cent replicated in the case of his other disciples. Be that as it may, history was created and he, Sachin Tendulkar, has emerged as the world's most attractive batsman in the current period.

Can we nonetheless shut our eyes from some of the harsher facts of life? If Sachin was in another game such as soccer or lawn tennis, it is most unlikely that he would have come to worldly success so easily and at such a fast pace. Cricket is still confined to the Commonwealth countries, while most other games which have been popularised by global television are not. Liberalisation notwithstanding, competition is therefore less intense in cricket than in the other arenas, which has partly helped Sachin to be what he is. Had his brilliance sought an outlet in, for instance, football, he would—it is conceivable—have encountered the stiffest competition from scores of youngsters from Germany, Poland, Russia, Brazil, Argentina and other countries. Lucky Sachin.

It is equally true though that if India did not hold out the prospect of a huge consumer market, the process of unfolding of Sachin's brilliance would have been somewhat more demure. He has emerged not only as the country's number one sport personality but also as the number one media man. A two-way relationship has thereby been established. Sponsorship by him has popularised several ranges of consumer goods produced or distributed by multinational corporations. At the same time, the growing attraction for these consumer goods has further drawn people to Sachin and cricket. Much of this phenomenon has occurred against the backdrop of burgeoning demand for goods articulated by our new generation of consumers—maybe one hundred fifty million of them, maybe two hundred million—who have dominated proceedings in the wake of full-scale liberalisation.

We can only congratulate him and wish him even better luck in future. We can also wish the best for his family who have been catapulted to unheard-of affluence. Having said all this, it is still necessary to accept the existence of an acute social problem the Sachin phenomenon has engendered: at any given moment, there can be only one Sachin Tendulkar; therefore at any given moment the hundreds and thousands of others concentrating on cricket would have to accept the proposition that each of them is a lesser mortal, the kind of wealth and recognition that has come Sachin's way is not destined for anyone else.

What is the likely spin-off? Garden variety envy can be ignored. Much more important is the accumulation of frustration on account of the truism that, at any point of time, there can be only one Sachin. What a realisation of this nature can cause to the game belongs to the sphere of speculation. Consider nonetheless the piquancy of the situation. Sachin has cornered the glory and the wealth that goes with it. This is a monopoly situation. It is however an unstable monopoly. An excess of liberalisation, which allows cricket to spread to new countries with lightning speed, would endanger Sachin's predominance. Sachin in his free time can mull over the puzzle that while lib-eralisation has made him what he is today, further liberalisation of the game would dim the prospects of a future crop of Sachins.

It is not given to him or anybody else though to resist the forces unleashed. Cricket threatens to become the national game of India. If not now, conceivably five years hence, there will be a fresh outcrop of geniuses with the same quality of talent and flair that Sachin Tendulkar possesses. Sachin has these five years or thereabouts to take advantage of; this is what neo-classical economists described as quasi-rent. The Sachin of today and the prospective Sachins of tomorrow cannot however afford to give the brush-off to the consideration of one unwholesome turn of events. Suppose the bottom falls out of economic liberalisation; their geniuses notwithstanding, would the Sachins still be Sachins?