Sachin Tendulkar driven by fear of failure

OK, here are the statistics. First the 417 one-day internationals during which he has pillaged 16,361 runs with a record 42 centuries; then the 146 Test matches producing 11,782 runs and 39 centuries. Thirty-nine Test centuries: the most any Englishman has made is 22. He needs just few runs to overtake Brian Lara and move into first place in the all-time list of heaviest Test run scorers. With his amalgamated tally of 28,143 runs and 81 centuries, Sachin Tendulkar is, of course, easily the most prolific international batsman in history.

Those are the facts. They quantify a career of extraordinary achievement that has made Tendulkar a sporting megastar and the richest cricketer that ever lived. Quite apart from the restaurant chain named after him and the Ferraris he is gifted, last year he signed a three-year commercial deal worth £22 million with Iconix, the marketing arm of Saatchi and Saatchi. Currently he advertises on TV everything from mobile phones and motor bikes to soft drinks, biscuits, cereal and deodorants. Indians literally speak, eat, drink and breathe him.

But what about the man? What lies beneath the diminutive frame and the cherubic face that has contrived to make him such a phenomenon, and how does he cope with the adoration and expectation of a billion Indians?Now 34, and in his 19th season on the international stage, can he quell the rumblings of general decline and steer India to their first Test series win in England for 20 years, or will this be the Little Master's quiet swansong?

If Tendulkar had seen reports of the furore surrounding David Beckham's arrival at Los Angeles Galaxy last weekend he would have been permitted a cynical smile. It's the kind of thing he deals with on a daily basis back home. Feted by a cricket-mad people, he is gawped and goggled at wherever he goes. Hundreds of rubber-neckers cluster around the Indian team bus as the players leave for the ground at the end of a day. They cry Sachin's name and attempt to touch him or push scraps of paper, rupee notes, even dried leaves at him to be signed. The same circus confronts him when the team arrive a short while later at their hotel. They are escorted inside to the lobby where a third wave of well-wishers - those smartly enough dressed to be let in - descends on their heroes requesting photo opportunities with their mobile phones.

It is an exhausting business being an Indian star and Tendulkar, forever the No 1 target, has evolved a particular technique to deal with such attention. He blanks everyone, deliberately avoiding eye contact. He justifies this by explaining that if he engages with just one face, one person, many others will see his lowered guard and clamour for his attention, and the situation would quickly get out of control. He knows such situations would be emotionally draining. Something has to give.

As it happens this avoidance approach suits Tendulkar. He is something of a paradox. He performs on a global stage yet actually doesn't like attention, invariably preferring the comfort and security of his home and close family to the sycophancy and scrutiny of public life. He is a private person, who occasionally used to venture out (sometimes in disguise) but now invariably retreats to his hotel room after play and, when traveling, plugs into his iPod rather than risk conversing with anyone. A rich and glamorous businesswoman who found herself sat next to him on a plane one day was amazed that he didn't pay her even a single glance throughout the journey.

In keeping with his personality, his batting is entirely methodical. It revolves around careful preparation and an economy of movement. His strokes are neat and compact. There is the occasional streak of virtuosity but his batting lacks the pure showmanship and bravado of other latter day greats like Lara or Viv Richards. Where those men attempted to demolish attacks, Tendulkar dissects them: he is a surgeon at work. To Lara a net was an occupational hazard; to Tendulkar it is the laboratory to create clinical perfection. He plans his innings meticulously and is forever working on something, roughing up practice pitches outside leg stump to simulate facing Shane Warne (he made 155 not out after doing so), or yesterday at Lord's honing his judgment against left-arm swingers and spinners, to replicate the angle and style of England's Ryan Sidebottom and Monty Panesar.

While Lara has been ostentatious in everything he has done - building extravagant homes, dating beautiful women, playing daring innings - living life on a Snakes and Ladders board, Tendulkar likes consistency and routine, residing in a duplex apartment with his wife and son in the leafy, seaside Bombay suburb of west Bandra close to where he grew up, dominated by plasma screens and hi-fis, and probably computer chess.

So far this intense single-mindedness has been strength. It has enabled him to concentrate on the job without distraction, and pile up records. But there are suggestions that, as he embarks on his 19th year of international cricket, it is becoming a weakness. Friends say he is almost a recluse and they find it hard to talk to him. As his power wanes, he is increasingly sensitive of criticism and wary of advice, almost as if he is in denial.

He had a fraught relationship with Greg Chappell; India's recently departed coach, because Chappell confronted his emerging flaws and proposed solutions. Questions last week from a journalist about Tendulkar's apparent vulnerability against pace bowling were blocked with a blunt no comment. But time waits for no one, and he is not the dominant force he was, as only one Test century in three years against a front-line Test nation - Sri Lanka - proves. After the disastrous World Cup there was an unprecedented call for his removal.

Watching him practicing at Lord's yesterday, a diminutive figure with bat and pads that appear too big for him, and hearing his thin, reedy voice, it is hard to escape the conclusion that he is a boy who never grew up. He is the Peter Pan of cricket, a precocious genius who retains a touchingly naive view of the world. He believes inherently that if he continues to do his thing, the power will return and those nasty Captain Hooks (the bowlers) will be cut back down to size.

The evidence, however, is that - at international level - he has developed a slight fear of failure. Latterly he has been more tentative in his play, less commanding, and it has cost him his wicket for an average of only 38 (as against a career average of 55). It seemed to have become a complex at this year's World Cup where, in the two key games against Bangladesh and Sri Lanka he seemed apprehensive and reluctant to play a shot, and was bowled both times for a sum total of four runs.

Recently there have been signs of him returning to a more dominant approach, and he toyed with the young England Lions bowlers last Saturday. Yet he has become so fastidious about his preparation he will not feel ready until he has gone through every permutation of bowlers and strategies. Yesterday he asked for an extra left-arm seamer to bowl in his net, and has requested two Panesar-like left-arm spinners be provided today (how ironic that India can't supply one themselves). He has been laboriously fine-tuning his judgment outside off stump, recalling that England's favored way of dismissing him is with a repetitive attack wide of the stumps.

You could look at this meticulousness two ways. Either its assiduous attention to detail, leaving no stone unturned in the quest for perfection, or its obsession bordering on neurosis that is in danger of curtailing his natural flair. There is a risk of paralysis by analysis. Bowlers used to be in awe of Tendulkar. Have the tables finally turned?

There is a mitigating factor. For all his amazing achievements, Tendulkar's name is not among the legends on the honors board in the visitors' dressing-room at Lord's. He has never made a Test century at the headquarters of cricket, indeed his highest score there is 31. Though he claims not to be motivated by statistics, he is keen, not to say desperate, to set the record straight. But, as Confucius might say, he who intensely desires, risks misfiring.

Tendulkar passes another milestone

15000 & Counting

When Sachin Tendulkar reached his fifty in the second ODI against South Africa, he went past another milestone in a career chequered with record-breaking moments. Tendulkar became the first batsman to accumulate 15,000 runs in ODIs - he was the first to 10,000 runs as well - and that didn't come as a surprise considering the productivity of his long career.

In the 189 ODI innings he has played when India has won, Tendulkar has scored 9061 runs at an average of 56.98, with a strike-rate of 89.72, all figures higher than his overall average. He averages 47.96 in 36 finals (of tournaments involving three teams or more), though the fact that he has scored only four hundreds, and that only 13 of those matches have resulted in wins, might come as a disappointment. Incidentally, he averages 89.10 at a strike-rate of nearly 100 when the team has won in a final.

He instantly became the face of the day-night game, and in fact Tendulkar has scored the highest number of runs while batting second in a day-night game and is third on the list of all-time highest averages while chasing under lights.

Tendulkar has scored the most runs by far (12019) while batting in the top three. However, a few batsmen have averaged better than him in the top-order, though none in the top five apart from Sir Viv Richards come close to his batting strike-rate.

Though he's been dismissed in the 90s in two consecutive matches, Tendulkar can take heart from his performance against South Africa in the ongoing series in Ireland. South Africa is the only team against whom he has failed to maintain an average score of 35 per innings.

Interestingly, the South African bowlers have managed to keep him quiet over the years, as reflected in his low strike-rate of 71.42 against them. The reason for his success at Belfast could be the absence of Shaun Pollock. Pollock has dismissed Tendulkar nine times in ODIs, along with Sri Lanka's Chaminda Vaas. The other successful bowlers include Glenn McGrath and Heath Streak, who have dismissed him seven times each.

Tendulkar also performs better at neutral venues than at home in India. His record in away games though is unimpressive.

Tendulkar currently averages over 50 in the 13 matches he has played in 2007. He has finished five years so far with an average of over 50 in ODIs. However, after a successful 2003 World Cup, he suffered a slump. He averaged a measly 34.97 in 37 innings in 2004 and 2005. Also, his strike-rate dropped gradually from 87.36 in 2003 to 77.05 in 2006.

Since the 2003 World Cup, Tendulkar has played 72 innings, in which he has scored 2824 runs at an average of 43.44 at a strike-rate of 81.85. He opened the batting in only 58 of these innings and though his record at No. 4 was equally impressive, he failed while batting one-down. In four innings at No.3, he averaged 8.75 and had a woeful strike-rate of 54.68. Clearly, Tendulkar prefers not to take first strike while opening the innings.

Although of late, he's looked to play with caution, he can be destructive and equally dismissive of opposition bowlers at will, as seen in the latest innings against South Africa, where he pulled the ball with an air of nonchalance.

That list includes the magical 49-ball 82 against New Zealand, Tendulkar's first as an opener. Since then, it's been many more runs on the board. Tendulkar has scored almost 26,000 runs in international cricket, and looks unlikely to be overtaken soon unless his nearest rival Brian Lara comes out of retirement as stated and makes runs at a far greater pace than his contemporary.

The Birth of Ball-by-Ball Commentary

Thats the way It all started. Hearing Cricket live as it happens

Monday (May 14) marks the 80th anniversary of the first ball-by-ball broadcast on the BBC. In Australia, matches had been covered since 1922, with the first Test coverage coming during the Sydney Test in 1924-25. But it was only in 1927 when the BBC drew up its new charter which gave it the right to send out reporters to inform the public about major events, that the idea spread to Britain.

Lance Sieveking, who had just returned from the USA where he had been impressed by live baseball commentary, decided to experiment with cricket. The BBC had already started with coverage of a rugby international - England v Wales at Twickenham - on January 15, 1927, and soon followed with other broadcasts from the Grand National and the Boat Race.

On April 1, The Guardian announced that the BBC had proposed adding cricket to its basket of radio sports. As with most newspaper comment of the time, the reaction was lukewarm at best. The problem was that the papers regarded radio as a direct competitor and for a long time refused to publish programme schedules.

On April 25, it was announced that the Reverend Frank Gillingham, a former Essex batsman and a well-respected preacher, would be the man who would deliver the first cricket commentary from Leyton on the first day of the match between Essex and the New Zealanders. The plan was for him to be on air from 2.10pm until 2.20pm, and then for a further four five-minute bursts on the hour with a general summary at 6.45pm. In between, the London Radio Dance Band would keep listeners entertained.

Although coverage was limited, The Daily Telegraph noted that "it is difficult to see how else such a broadcast could be made thoroughly interesting". A few days later The Guardian revealed that there were plans to cut into the scheduled band music "at any period when play is specially interesting".

As the day itself loomed, the Radio Times, the BBC's own publication, described the venture as "a new departure, an experiment, and something of an adventure" while admitting that cricket was "one of the slowest games in the world" and, as such, not exactly what people would want to listen to for long. "They will not have to sit through descriptions of maiden overs and wait while the batsman send to the pavilion for his cap."

There is no recording of the broadcasts, but newspaper reaction was, perhaps predictably, low key. The Western Daily Press described it as "deadly dull" to the general body of listeners, but the Edinburgh Evening News was a little more upbeat with its verdict of "a partial success".

The experiment must have gone down reasonably well at Broadcasting House as it quickly decided to cover more matches. Lord's proved a tough nut to crack, although issues about where the commentator could sit were finally resolved in time for Pelham Warner - who was overlooked for the Leyton match as his voice was deemed "too gravely melancholic" - to cover Middlesex v Nottinghamshire. Rather than a spot in or near the pavilion, he was forced to perch on top of the Clerk of the Works office, just outside the main ground overlooking third man.

The expansion in coverage indicates that the public warmed to the idea. The press remained defensive. In June, the Daily Mail slammed the "pathetic offering". On July 6, Warner, who had quickly become the voice of London commentary - or "running comment" as the BBC termed it - was at Lord's for the third day of Oxford v Cambridge, with a car on standby should that finish to whisk him to The Oval to cover Gentlemen v Players.

So cricket on the radio was here to stay. Sadly, Gillingham was soon gone. The end came when during a lengthy rain delay in a match at The Oval he ingeniously decide to fill in time by reading out the advertisements which surrounded the ground. In the rather puritanical and non-commercial era of Lord Reith, that was about as cardinal a sin as could be imagined and he was soon jettisoned.