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The one, and only!

So he has reached fifty. How time flies! It almost seems like yesterday when I had been listening to the running commentary of his Old Trafford ton on that fateful England tour of 1974. A hundred from an Indian batsman -- it was such a rarity then. So the man achieving that feat against a quality pace attack had immediately captured the attention and admiration of my then nine year old mind. And that was just the beginning of a life-long fascination with Sunil Manohar Gavaskar.

I had to wait for almost a year before I could watch my hero in action. It was 1975 -- the first week of our first ever TV set. First ever Test match at Wankhede Stadium in Bombay. Fifth deciding rubber in the India-Windies series. Lloyd scored a double hundred, Solkar his first and only hundred and practically every batsman made merry on that batsmen's paradise. But the innings that stayed etched in the mind was Sunny's priceless 86 coming straight after a long lay-off due to injury. His composure, his technique, his stroke making, his footwork - I was awestruck. This guy was in a different league altogether. I still regretfully remember his dismissal - getting out bowled while trying to cut Gibbs with just about 5 minutes to close of play.

For that matter I remember practically every significant innings and dismissal of his which I managed to see. And I must say that given the circumstances I managed to see quite a few of his memorable innings. Offering ingenious excuses, I would somehow manage to sneak out of the school or skip it altogether to secure my seat in front of the TV - often exactly a minute before the Indian innings began. Somehow my parents understood this fascination and never ever tried to dissuade me from doing that. (Obviously a good scholastic record did help in that matter!)

I would savour every little detail of the Little Master that little screen offered. His stride to the wicket, his taking guard, his running between the wickets, his protective gear, his strokes, his temperament, even his fielding -- everything seemed so cool, so compact and so correct. The courage, confidence and concentration exuded by his persona lifted the collective morale - not only of the team but of an entire cricket crazy nation.

For years, my interest in Indian cricket began and ended with what Sunil could achieve and what he couldn't. His first calendar year 1000 in 1976, his three second innings tons against Australia in 1977-'78, his two sets of twin centuries against Pakistan and Windies in 1978-'79, his grand 221 at Oval in 1979, his 29th and 30th century against Windies in 1983, his Mini-World Cup triumph as a captain in 1985, his 10,000th run at Ahmedabad in 1987 -- all those memories will never fade.

With each of his achievements this small-statured man made me feel an inch taller. Every time his bat rose to acknowledge the deafening roar for scaling yet another peak, my heart filled to the brim with joy and pride. When Len Hutton compared him to Bradman and the great Don himself said that 'Gavaskar is an ornament for the game', I literally couldn't help but blush!

The anxious prayers and the thankful offering of coconuts before Almighty for each of his successes; the tears and frowns after each of his failures, and those passionate 'friendly' evening discussions about his game -- it was as if there was this strange bond between his career course and the course of my growing up. And believe me I was not alone in this.

I met him first in 1980 at a colony function where almost all the photographs taken showed him to be deeply engrossed in my scrapbooks containing his photographs and cuttings. Yet the mind of the ninth grader couldn't summon enough courage then to congratulate him for the Wisden nomination. The next 'meeting' was at an India-England Test at Bombay in 1994 where I had a pavilion pass to sit right besides Dilip Vengsarkar and during the lunch break, when Dilip vacated the seat, Sunil grabbed the seat. I tell you I had the goose bumps! For quite a while I couldn't even concentrate on the field where Sachin and Vinod were batting! The only thing I could mange was to get an autograph on a Don Bradman biography I had just bought. That man has had such an impact on me.

Even today in my thirties, I feel the same bondage deep within for the sportsman who gave me those countless precious moments. Even now, going through those scrapbooks lined up on my bookshelf bring back all those nostalgic memories. His crisp comments as a commentator or as a writer still generate the same admiration and affection in my mind. The controversies surrounding him have never alienated me from him, in fact they have made him more charming, more human. He might have been wrong on some counts, but in my book he will always get the benefit of doubt. For he is my hero, and will always remain so!

Dr Mandar V Bichu is a regular reader of Rediff. Anyone who wishes to write a similar guest column can do so, to the mail address premp@rediff.co.in. Your articles will be published provided the content and language are of intrinsic interest.