An Artist & His Art

The fast bowler began his sprint of a little over 25 metres; twice the length the ball would have to travel once it would be released. On the striker’s end, crouched with his piece of willow, stood a batsman, or rather an artist, for he was so gifted. The ball, a good delivery outside the off stump, wasn’t defended with a dead bat, or forcefully whacked through the covers, but was caressed with infinite tenderness--a flick of the wrists through mid-wicket. The sound of the bat hitting the ball wasn’t the usual ‘thump’, but a pleasing ‘chink’ (as Ravi Shastri puts it). The very next ball by the frustrated bowler was an average delivery on off stump that kept a little low. This ball, which even a number 11 would negotiate with ease, had this man playing all around it. The ball eventually found its way to the lower half of the off stick. The stunned batsman stood rooted to his ground. His face showed utter disbelief, but his eyes show fear—for the selectors’ axe isn’t too far away.

VVS Laxman isn’t just any other batsman. He is one who has the potential of being a phenomenon, one of the greatest the game has ever seen. He is one of the few who takes the skill of batsmanship to new highs. In fact, when he wields his willow, batting is not a skill, but an art. An art so pleasing that one becomes oblivious to all around oneself—the only desire of the heart is to see him bat.

He is definitely not an orthodox batsman. His shots are not technically perfect, his footwork unquestionably not among the best in the world. But, who cares? The Don’s shots weren’t really appropriate for a coaching manual either. He is as unpredictable as the rains in India, getting out to rank long hops that Geoff Boycott’s mum would dispatch with a hockey stick. Sometimes even his defence leaves a lot to be desired.

In the summer of 2001, when Indian cricket, still recovering from the match fixing scandal, touched new lows, a messiah of hope arrived. On the third day of the momentous Kolkata test match, the Laxman orchestra got cracking. An orchestra that played a wonderful symphony never heard before; an orchestra that lasted, indefatigably, an entire day; an orchestra that single-handedly lifted a team that was down in the dumps; an orchestra of grace, elegance and class.

However, Laxman’s career has never really taken off. The great innings of master-class and substance have been overshadowed by scratchy failures. His career graph, with so many ups and downs, would look more like a series of road-humps. In spite of being an extremely aggressive test batsman (when in full flow), his omission from the national side in the shorter version of the game has become a common sight.

Why does this happen? How can a man so very gifted unable to live up to even the most modest of expectations? How long can one say that he is unable to take the pressure or, probably, is short of confidence? A man who has played nearly a decade of international cricket will know how to handle pressure and work his way out of lean patches.

And this is where the technique factor comes into play. Laxman is blessed with tremendous amounts of hand-eye coordination which, many a time, makes up for his extremely shoddy footwork, his penchant for prodding way outside the off stump. His unrivalled wrists keep in check other aspects of his faulty technique. But, cricket is a game that is fast changing. With the increased use of technology in all the aspects of the game, it is of utmost importance for a batsman to keep changing his style of play. Teams all around the world have a computer-literate coach and at least one computer analyst. Every player’s strong points and weaknesses are scrutinized and a well thought strategy is chalked out for him.

This is where Laxman falls short. He is one among a breed of batsmen for whom batting came as naturally as composing music did for A.R.Rahman. All the various coaches he had helped him develop his game without really tampering much with his style. Laxman’s greatest strength is also his weakest link. His unique and artistic style of play kept many a bowler lost for options. But now, well into his 8th year as an international cricketer, Laxman’s batting has been analysed; cracks in his batting have been figured out. The bowlers bowl according to a plan—they bait him. Laxman, sadly, is yet to find a counter attack—a master plan that will cover up for the chinks in his armoury. The fact is that Laxman hasn’t gone down as a batsman, but he has failed to adapt. He has failed to make those slight variations in his game that would keep his place a certainty in the side.

Ian Chapel was, once, asked to change his grip by the great Sir Don himself and this tremendously improved his all round abilities as a batsman. With some luck, Laxman too might pick up a tip or two from some great Indian batsmen and might be back among the runs again. With a few months to go before the next season begins, Laxman has some time to reassess his game. Hopefully, the coming season will see a fully rejuvenated Laxman, rearing to go. For as the proverb goes, “Form is temporary, Class is permanent”.