Adieu Dada
I have always been a fierce fan of Dada. Fierce is indeed the word, for readers who might be smirking at my choice of the word. For ask anyone in class 12 B, batch of 04, Seth Anand Ram Jaipuria School, Kanpur, I once fought off an entire class of 50 in a heated debate over him on one of those not so infrequent occasions when our English teacher decided that English is better taught by letting people speak, rather than making them read. Over the years, the evolution of my own personality has mirrored that of Dada. That is probably why I am surprised that I actually feel this urge to write, on his last day in international cricket, to give an account of sorts, of what it meant to be his fan.
Being a fan of Sourav Chandidas Ganguly is at once the most gratifying and the most infuriating of experiences. People who were never would never understand what it is like. To really root for someone with your heart and soul, To be not just insanely happy when he scored a hundred or took a wicket or took a catch or even, ran a single (which, I must admit, he wasnt particularly good at), but to think what you'd give up, if it made any difference, to make him score another 50, hit another 6, caress another ball with silken grace past point. I still remember that when I was 14, before every match I used to imagine him scoring a hundred, I used to play out every ball in my mind. To his penultimate day in international cricket (and I am 22 now, and NOT a certifiable maniac), I never lost this habit. I used to conjure up from the depths of my brain fantastically grand images of brilliance, yes-he-can-ness, of sheer Dadagiri, and frankly, to me, it seems a lot more than 18000 runs and 38 centuries. For I have seen him score a hundred more, in my waking hours and in my dreams.
That is what being a Dada fan means. It was never part time, for me or the million others like me who rooted day in and day out for this man. It was an emotional bond, there was no room for the cleaner emotions if you were his fan. There was no dispassionate, unbiased, rational justification that made us such. He was never Sachin. He was never meant to be. You did not love him because he made so many runs that you'd hate yourself if you didnt. You just loved him, unconditionally. A slump longer than the Great Depression, statements that often were more indiscreet than Paris Hilton , controversies left and controversies right, it didnt matter. Once you were a fan, you just were a fan, and goddamn proud of him, no matter what he did. Such were the chords he touched in your heart.
Being a Dada fan was hard. For whenever he reached the brink of statistical greatness, he somehow contrived (or so we believed) to throw it all away in a maddenning flash of insanity. It meant that anytime you could teased by a whole bloodthirsty gang of classmates baying for his (and your) blood. But being a Dada fan was fun too. It was more fun than anything else. Because you got to see that incredulous, sheepish look on all those who doubted him, so many times. In hindsight, I think he rather enjoyed that. Adversity brought out true greatness in him, whereas calm collection of accolades never appealed to him. To him, it lacked that aroma of medieval adventure that his heart forever craved for.
In many ways, his life was a drama. Played out over a lifetime. There had to be a twist in the tail. and a twist in the tail of the twist. Ad infinitum. He enjoyed making people notice him. For you never could be unbiased about him. Sourav Chandidas Ganguly. You either loved him, or you hated him. You could not NOT care about him. A nation went silent when Sachin got out, but as far as Dada was concerned, the nation was never silent. You were always screaming. You'd either be heaping him with the most hyperbolic accolades and adjectives, or you'd be adorning him with the choicest obscenities. there was no middle ground.
That was what being a Dada fan really meant. For in some perverse way, even his bloodthirtiest detractors were his fans. He was like the Sith. For you could hate a Sith with all your passion and energy, and even that would turn you into a Sith. That was the power of Dada. The intensity of the passion he evoked in you. And that, I believe, is what you'll miss the next time you tune in to watch India play.
Being a fan of Sourav Chandidas Ganguly is at once the most gratifying and the most infuriating of experiences. People who were never would never understand what it is like. To really root for someone with your heart and soul, To be not just insanely happy when he scored a hundred or took a wicket or took a catch or even, ran a single (which, I must admit, he wasnt particularly good at), but to think what you'd give up, if it made any difference, to make him score another 50, hit another 6, caress another ball with silken grace past point. I still remember that when I was 14, before every match I used to imagine him scoring a hundred, I used to play out every ball in my mind. To his penultimate day in international cricket (and I am 22 now, and NOT a certifiable maniac), I never lost this habit. I used to conjure up from the depths of my brain fantastically grand images of brilliance, yes-he-can-ness, of sheer Dadagiri, and frankly, to me, it seems a lot more than 18000 runs and 38 centuries. For I have seen him score a hundred more, in my waking hours and in my dreams.
That is what being a Dada fan means. It was never part time, for me or the million others like me who rooted day in and day out for this man. It was an emotional bond, there was no room for the cleaner emotions if you were his fan. There was no dispassionate, unbiased, rational justification that made us such. He was never Sachin. He was never meant to be. You did not love him because he made so many runs that you'd hate yourself if you didnt. You just loved him, unconditionally. A slump longer than the Great Depression, statements that often were more indiscreet than Paris Hilton , controversies left and controversies right, it didnt matter. Once you were a fan, you just were a fan, and goddamn proud of him, no matter what he did. Such were the chords he touched in your heart.
Being a Dada fan was hard. For whenever he reached the brink of statistical greatness, he somehow contrived (or so we believed) to throw it all away in a maddenning flash of insanity. It meant that anytime you could teased by a whole bloodthirsty gang of classmates baying for his (and your) blood. But being a Dada fan was fun too. It was more fun than anything else. Because you got to see that incredulous, sheepish look on all those who doubted him, so many times. In hindsight, I think he rather enjoyed that. Adversity brought out true greatness in him, whereas calm collection of accolades never appealed to him. To him, it lacked that aroma of medieval adventure that his heart forever craved for.
In many ways, his life was a drama. Played out over a lifetime. There had to be a twist in the tail. and a twist in the tail of the twist. Ad infinitum. He enjoyed making people notice him. For you never could be unbiased about him. Sourav Chandidas Ganguly. You either loved him, or you hated him. You could not NOT care about him. A nation went silent when Sachin got out, but as far as Dada was concerned, the nation was never silent. You were always screaming. You'd either be heaping him with the most hyperbolic accolades and adjectives, or you'd be adorning him with the choicest obscenities. there was no middle ground.
That was what being a Dada fan really meant. For in some perverse way, even his bloodthirtiest detractors were his fans. He was like the Sith. For you could hate a Sith with all your passion and energy, and even that would turn you into a Sith. That was the power of Dada. The intensity of the passion he evoked in you. And that, I believe, is what you'll miss the next time you tune in to watch India play.
posted by '~-)Sandman(-~' at 10:57 AM
3 Comments:
and that would make rahul dravid a jedi master i guess....
i have stopped following cricket almost completely but i did briefly start again when ganguly was called back to the team... remember that..
now for some reason that dravid and ganguly seem to have a lot of ppl baying for their blood and i hate them all... most of all i despise sachin fans, the guy never came through ppl, these two atleast always tried...
anyways to cut a long rant short, now that ganguly has retired and dravid soon will(if he hasn't) i see no reason to keep following cricket.
oh and one last thing i do not really remember the specifics, but there was some match in a world cup i think against england prolly, and ganguly made like 180 and dravid made a 160, that inning was like the best batting that i had ever seen, ganguly would come down the pitch and hit his lofty leg-side sixes and dravid would hit four after four thru the covers... that was and will always remain the best display of batting that i ever saw......
I am surprised that I actually feel this urge to write, on his last day in international cricket, to give an account of sorts, of what it meant to be his fan
I have tried to say it too - but words cannot describe the rollercoaster ride - that of being a fan of Dada.
I have fought his corner on the BBC Test Match Special board - I took on the scavengers of sites who proudly called themselves ihateganguly[dot]brigade - and thanks to Dada's legendary comeback - can still hold my head up high.
But I can really feel why today you and so many other Dada fans, have the urge to write.
sandman taking on 50 people in a debate is btw,not hard to imagine :P
i too liked dada for exactly the same reasons,the fluctuations in performance,the controversies,the comebacks only added more colour to his character.that way,i find sachin pretty dull
and i think u like a certain apple ad as much as i do ;)
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