gathering instantly recovered its spirit, India changed the travel plans (even before its last batsman was out) of some of the playing XI, so that they would be off to the airport before the scheduled close of play. And them rain clouds? They came early on the fifth day, almost the moment the last Indian wicket fell, and they didnít let up for days. You could not be faulted for thinking that the clouds had timed it to show up India for how the fight went out of them the moment Sachin was back in the pavilion.
It is difficult to recall all these years later, now that India have long got used to, howsoever sporadically, Test victories, that for a very long time Sachinís innings were, in essence, all that mattered on Indiaís scorecard. The rest of the cricketers were just riveting profiles. Sachinís performance was Indiaís. His standout innings and records were, in effect, our collective victories. How odd then that soon, definitely by the mid-2000s, the narrative changed, and Sachin began to be berated for playing for the records.
All these years later, looking at his career summary of 198 Test matches, could the case be made that it was during that summer of 2002 that Sachinís team changed, and we began to fumble to find a fair measure of his contribution? At Headingly, Leeds, that August, India played for an innings victory in a Test that, to this day, is the best recap of Indian cricketís recent golden age. Sourav Gangulyís team played to their strength, fielding two spinners on an English track (Anil Kumble took seven wickets). Rahul Dravid took guard after the early fall of the first wicket, kept his nerve through the bruising attack and hit a man-of-the-match 148, and capped a tour of big hundreds that would transform his place in the team. Ganguly played a captainís knock of 128, taking the lead spectacularly to step up the run rate and allow India time to get England out twice. And Sachin made the biggest century of them all, 193.
Could it be that in a