Yashasvi Jaiswal was less than five years old when the French footballer Zenedine Zidane headbutted Italian defender Marco Materazzi in the final of the 2006 World Cup football. It earned Zidane a red card in the final match of his career.

Zidane claimed that the defender had insulted his sister (professional lip readers couldn’t agree on exactly what was said) as justification for the headbutt eight minutes from the final whistle.

And now the headbutt has taken centre stage in another sport, one less likely to have witnessed one, cricket. Jaiswal and Sri Lanka’s fast bowler Asitha Fernando had an altercation after Jaiswal had been bowled. It is never a pleasant sight when an international bowler gives a batter a ‘send off’ as commentators delicately put it. You don’t need to be a lip-reader to make out that it is seldom commiseration or an invitation to a party that constitutes a ‘send off’.

In this case, Jaiswal’s helmet was dangerously close to making contact with Fernando. If there’s one thing worse than a regular headbutt, it is a headbutt with helmet on. Both players were fined 25% of their match fees; I am not sure if the DRS could have confirmed if there was a touch.

Ignore the provocation

Most international players ignore such provocation, and walk on, perhaps plotting revenge with their own fast bowlers if they carry a grudge. On one memorable occasion, India’s then captain and opening batter Sunil Gavaskar, given a send off by Dennis Lillee, the Australian fast bowler, nearly forfeited a Test in Melbourne by asking his partner Chetan Chauhan to walk off with him (Gavaskar has often said that was the one act on a cricket field he regretted) before good sense returned.

Jaiswal is 24, and a world class opener who has worked hard to get to where he has. The much-repeated story of his early life and obsession with cricket is an inspiration. He has a certainty in his own destiny that top athletes possess. A will power that can only be admired.

But sledging is not new in cricket — it could take the form of insults against family, physical drawbacks or background — and players have learnt to live with it. Jaiswal has survived far more than Fernando can imagine; players snap when taken to the dark areas of their lives. To ignore provocation needs a particular temperament, and Jaiswal will discover this soon enough.

Indian cricket has produced champions with great willpower, from C.K. Nayudu and Kapil Dev to Sachin Tendulkar and Anil Kumble. They didn’t suffer fools gladly, nor did they react physically to insults, perceived or otherwise. They responded with bat or ball, and that is the more permanent riposte.

After a Test at Lord’s where there had been some needle, K.L. Rahul said, “If you go after one of our guys, you are going after the whole team, all eleven of us will come right back.” Standing up for a friend or colleague is wonderful, but it must not degenerate into a public spat. There are subtler ways of getting a message across. But like justice being done, it appears as if revenge must not only be taken but seen to be taken.

“If you don’t know what (Fernando) said, then please don’t make your judgement. If anyone crosses the line we need to let them know this India will fight and reply,” was Jaiswal’s response to a commentator who had urged restraint.

‘New India’

This is the motto of the so-called ‘New India’, which needs to assert itself at every turn, and one which is determined to show all and sundry who is boss. It may not be long before, like the national hockey team, the cricket team too wears orange for white ball cricket. After all, blue is the colour of the sky, and can be very confusing for the blue-wearing players and even television viewers.

There is a school of thought which believes that what is said (or done) on the field of play should remain there. It is a good argument, but when things cross a line, it brings the game itself into disrepute. Cricket is a non-contact sport; may it ever remain thus.

When Mahendra Singh Dhoni was starting out as an India player, he had a favour to ask of the media. Please don’t rush to my parents’ house every time I score some runs, he pleaded. It is difficult to say which comes first, the public’s obsessive interest in a player or the media’s creation of that obsession. To remain a public figure and yet retain privacy is a delicate balancing act.

Sachin Tendulkar managed it well. Vaibhav Sooryavanshi, younger when making his international debut, should steel himself (as his family must too) for the invasions that will surely follow. Yes, the public has a right to know (the usual argument), and yes the media only give the public what it wants. But at 15, Sooryavanshi is hardly in a position to resist even if he had the tools or knew the tricks.

He has made his point, winning the player-of-the-series award after India’s victory in Zimbabwe. Turns out he is what everyone had expected, a potentially great white ball player, a six-hitter in a game that is judged by six-hitting abilities, a match-winner, a bowling-killer. He is yet to shed his puppy fat, yet seems to know his game with a thoroughness that is almost frightening in someone so young. Where does he go from here?

He has made his point, letting the nay-sayers know that he is not too young for international cricket; he is at home in its atmosphere. Now we have an obligation — let’s leave him alone, and sit back to watch his progress over the next couple of decades. Fans are rarely given an opportunity to watch a player grow from his teens to his thirties on a live stage. A front row seat, too, that should not be abused by reaching out to touch the actor performing.

Break all records

“He will break all the records at international level,” said India’s coach in Zimbabwe V.V.S. Laxman, who has broken a few himself and watched Tendulkar do so too, so he knows a thing or two. And when he says he is impressed by the boy’s maturity and ability to handle pressure we are doubly assured.

Given the manner in which the white ball game grew out of the rib of red ball cricket, it is not surprising that the great players in one format, the top scorers, the bowlers with most wickets are the all-format champions. The game is yet to see an exclusively white ball great, although some may be emerging from the West Indies and Afghanistan.

It’s too early for Sooryavanshi to have to make the choice now, but will he be satisfied to finish as a white ball great or extend his grasp to include Test cricket too? Cricket is at a stage when format-specialisation (however inelegant the term) is not just a possibility but one likely to be encouraged.

Sooryavanshi might not be ready for Test cricket just yet, but such is his talent that the possibility is ever present.

When Tendulkar, at 16, made his Test debut in Pakistan, the prevailing wisdom was that you didn’t play a green Test player in a one-day match because the latter was bad company to keep for one so young. Then Tendulkar set the Peshawar stadium afire striking leg spinner Abdul Qadir for sixes at will (he scored 28 runs in one over) in an exhibition game, and there was no holding him back.

Sooryavanshi might have to do the reverse — keep his six-hitting in check and demonstrate how good his defence is!

Increased pressure

The cricket world is in for a treat, however you look at it. The pressures on a young Sooryavanshi will be far greater than on a young Tendulkar was, simply because of social media and instant criticism without cause.

Dealing with trolls, making the right choices, handling sponsors and advertisers are some of the off-field challenges ahead. The Board of Control for Cricket in India does not have a mentoring system, nor is there a proper players’ association which can bring its experience to bear upon these issues.

It was good of the cricket board to let his parents travel for matches with Sooryavanshi. All of us have a responsibility. After all, it takes a village…

Indian cricket icon Sachin Tendulkar on Thursday (July 23, 2026) backed the students protesting against repeated exam paper leaks, saying their disappointment is understandable and it is the society’s collective responsibility to ensure that they “don’t feel this way again.”

Posting on ‘X’, Mr. Tendulkar said his late father Ramesh Tendulkar, who was a professor, instilled in him certain values quite early in life, the primary one being “Failure is okay, cheating is not. Never take shortcuts.”

Follow Jantar Mantar protest LIVE updates

“As adults in society, we have the responsibility of shaping culture. A society which prioritises outcomes over effort will seek shortcuts over meritocracy. Today, when students feel disappointed that their hard work hasn’t been rewarded, it is understandable,” Mr. Tendulkar stated.

“Collectively, we should all work together towards ensuring they don’t feel this way again,” he added.

The protests that began on July 20 at Jantar Mantar have taken a violent turn with police resorting to lathi-charge on multiple occasions, citing law and order concerns.

The agitation is being spearheaded by the Cockroach Janta Party with support of environmental activist Sonam Wangchuk, who is on an indefinite fast in solidarity with the students.

They are demanding the removal of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan, holding him responsible for the NEET paper leaks that led to a re-test recently.

Multiple students died by suicide across the country in the aftermath of the paper leak.

Mr. Tendulkar said he is hopeful of a solution coming through and stressed on the need to promote a culture which rewards honesty and in which merit wins.

“As a society, all of us, including parents, teachers, friends, relatives, schools, and administrators, have a massive responsibility and different roles to play in ensuring our youth remain encouraged and energised.”

“We must create a culture where hard work is rewarded, honesty is encouraged, and merit wins. I am certain we will all find solutions that strengthen our children’s future and safeguard their aspirations,” he said.

On Thursday (July 23), Prime Minister Narendra Modi issued a statement to say that fast track courts would be set up to ensure speedy trials of those accused of leaking the exam papers.

It is one of cricket’s ironies that players welcome captaincy despite knowing that the chances of escaping its psychological and physical damage are low. Great captains are often those who hide their trauma well. Even those who enjoy the job and have a profound effect on the game reach a point when the ‘honour’ doesn’t matter any more.

England captain Ben Stokes torching “the church that he built,” in the memorable words of cricket writer Vithushan Ehantharajah, was a reminder of what captaincy can do to players, even the best ones.

“I was so scarred and devastated by the experience,” admitted Sachin Tendulkar (who led in 25 Tests), “that I even wondered whether I should walk away from cricket.” This, from the man with over 15,000 Test runs and 51 centuries. Captains tend to grey prematurely and lose hair steadily. Anxiety is a constant companion. They make their decisions before an event but are judged only after the consequences become clear. Win or lose, it is difficult to be fully effective beyond a few series.

Michael Atherton, who led England in 54 Tests felt that “four years is about the limit. It is a job that takes its toll.”

Man of many parts

A captain, wrote Doug Insole, former England player and selector, is a public relations officer, agricultural consultant, psychiatrist, accountant, nursemaid, diplomat. Ray Illingworth in his book Captaincy added to that with: “He needs to have the patience of a saint, the compassion of a social worker, and the skin of a rhino…”

Despite the presence of the coaching staff, the captain has an unnatural burden on his shoulders. The reaction to Stokes’s post-victory celebration was extreme (he was dropped for a Test in the New Zealand series despite lack of clarity on whether the midnight curfew remained in place after a match was over). Stokes’ nose-thumbing or middle-finger wagging or whatever it was that caused him to open the batting and go on a suicide mission was extreme too. England cricket is in that familiar place now — a mess.

If there was one man who raised it to great heights recently, it was Stokes. If there is one who is the symbol of everything wrong with it now, it is Stokes. A great all rounder and inspiring captain jumped before he was pushed — other captains haven’t been so lucky.

One of India’s finest, Srinivas Venkatraghavan had the mortification of hearing of his sacking from the pilot on the PA system of the aircraft carrying the team back to India after a tour of England. Australia’s Kim Hughes bid a tearful farewell after yet another defeat against the West Indies.

After England’s defeat to India at Lord’s in ’86, skipper David Gower was at the post-match interview while in the dressing room chief selector Peter May was offering the captaincy to Mike Gatting. Gower was the last to know. “You will have the worst time of your life,” former England captain Brian Close told a successor, Ian Botham about captaincy.

The captain is the focal point of the pressure on a team, and feels the heat the most. In Stokes’ case, there was the added strain of ‘Bazball’, a wonderful system of play when things were going well but without a fall-back position when things were going badly. It was exciting while it lasted, but when it unravelled in Australia, Stokes and his men losing the Ashes series 1-4, the sharpened knives could be seen glinting. Victory is the only justification for any system, even the ones difficult to understand or accept.

Perhaps Virat Kohli was speaking for the majority when he explained why he gave up captaincy: “I was completely spent. I was consumed by it. It was gruesome.” Interesting choice of words, but the message is clear. As the great Mike Brearley pointed out in his classic, The Art of Captaincy, “We receive repeated intimations of our own fallibility.” It helped that skipper Brearley was a philosopher, psychoanalyst and author, but he is unique.

Captains have to absorb the pressure so the rest of the team can play freely. Stokes removed the fear of failure from the players, and backed them for fitting in. But in the end he was overwhelmed. A cautionary tale? Perhaps, but was it worth it?

It is one of cricket’s ironies that players welcome captaincy despite knowing that the chances of escaping its psychological and physical damage are low. Great captains are often those who hide their trauma well. Even those who enjoy the job and have a profound effect on the game reach a point when the ‘honour’ doesn’t matter any more.

England captain Ben Stokes torching “the church that he built,” in the memorable words of cricket writer Vithushan Ehantharajah, was a reminder of what captaincy can do to players, even the best ones.

“I was so scarred and devastated by the experience,” admitted Sachin Tendulkar (who led in 25 Tests), “that I even wondered whether I should walk away from cricket.” This, from the man with over 15,000 Test runs and 51 centuries. Captains tend to grey prematurely and lose hair steadily. Anxiety is a constant companion. They make their decisions before an event but are judged only after the consequences become clear. Win or lose, it is difficult to be fully effective beyond a few series.

Michael Atherton, who led England in 54 Tests felt that “four years is about the limit. It is a job that takes its toll.”

Man of many parts

A captain, wrote Doug Insole, former England player and selector, is a public relations officer, agricultural consultant, psychiatrist, accountant, nursemaid, diplomat. Ray Illingworth in his book Captaincy added to that with: “He needs to have the patience of a saint, the compassion of a social worker, and the skin of a rhino…”

Despite the presence of the coaching staff, the captain has an unnatural burden on his shoulders. The reaction to Stokes’s post-victory celebration was extreme (he was dropped for a Test in the New Zealand series despite lack of clarity on whether the midnight curfew remained in place after a match was over). Stokes’ nose-thumbing or middle-finger wagging or whatever it was that caused him to open the batting and go on a suicide mission was extreme too. England cricket is in that familiar place now — a mess.

If there was one man who raised it to great heights recently, it was Stokes. If there is one who is the symbol of everything wrong with it now, it is Stokes. A great all rounder and inspiring captain jumped before he was pushed — other captains haven’t been so lucky.

One of India’s finest, Srinivas Venkatraghavan had the mortification of hearing of his sacking from the pilot on the PA system of the aircraft carrying the team back to India after a tour of England. Australia’s Kim Hughes bid a tearful farewell after yet another defeat against the West Indies.

After England’s defeat to India at Lord’s in ’86, skipper David Gower was at the post-match interview while in the dressing room chief selector Peter May was offering the captaincy to Mike Gatting. Gower was the last to know. “You will have the worst time of your life,” former England captain Brian Close told a successor, Ian Botham about captaincy.

The captain is the focal point of the pressure on a team, and feels the heat the most. In Stokes’ case, there was the added strain of ‘Bazball’, a wonderful system of play when things were going well but without a fall-back position when things were going badly. It was exciting while it lasted, but when it unravelled in Australia, Stokes and his men losing the Ashes series 1-4, the sharpened knives could be seen glinting. Victory is the only justification for any system, even the ones difficult to understand or accept.

Perhaps Virat Kohli was speaking for the majority when he explained why he gave up captaincy: “I was completely spent. I was consumed by it. It was gruesome.” Interesting choice of words, but the message is clear. As the great Mike Brearley pointed out in his classic, The Art of Captaincy, “We receive repeated intimations of our own fallibility.” It helped that skipper Brearley was a philosopher, psychoanalyst and author, but he is unique.

Captains have to absorb the pressure so the rest of the team can play freely. Stokes removed the fear of failure from the players, and backed them for fitting in. But in the end he was overwhelmed. A cautionary tale? Perhaps, but was it worth it?

It took a personal intervention from Diana Edulji, a recommendation letter from Sachin Tendulkar and a stern conversation with the Railways Sports Promotion Board chairman before Harmanpreet Kaur, the India women’s cricket captain, secured a job with the Railways.

Recounting the episode at the launch of Her Story, Her Glory — Aditya Bhushan’s book chronicling the evolution of Indian women’s cricket — the former India captain revealed how bureaucracy almost derailed Harmanpreet’s move from Punjab.

“I was responsible for bringing her from Punjab because Northern Railway was not able to give her a good job there. There was a lot of red-tapism going on there,” said Edulji, an ICC Hall of Famer and a former India captain.

After persuading Harmanpreet to shift to Mumbai, Edulji found the process far from straightforward. Edulji then turned to Tendulkar, hoping his stature would help expedite the process.

“I approached the great Sachin Tendulkar. I requested him if he could give me a letter asking the Railways to help Harman get a job. He immediately agreed and I sent that letter to the Railway Board with Harman’s application.”

The response, however, stunned her. “To my surprise, the Railways rejected that letter. So you can imagine… I picked up the phone and called Arvind Kumar, the Railways Board chairman. I said, ‘The God of cricket, the Bharat Ratna, the best cricketer we have had. If you say no to him, who will you say yes to? Let me know or close shop’.”

The chairman invited her to Delhi to resolve the matter, but Edulji ensured the outcome benefited more than just Harmanpreet one cricketer. “I took Harman’s application along with five more from international wrestlers and weightlifters…. Six applications were approved on that day.”

Sachin Tendulkar hadn’t made his Test debut when Ian McLean played against him.

“He was one of Kailash Gattani’s boys and I played against them in Scotland,” McLean, a former Scotland Under-21 player. “Gattani, a former Ranji Trophy player for Rajasthan, used to bring young Indian cricketers to England and Scotland. We used to call them Kailash’s boys though the club’s official name was Star Cricket Club.”

Apart from Tendulkar, who would play the Test series against Pakistan some six months after that tour of the UK, Gattani had also brought players like Rahul Dravid and Vinod Kambli.

He remembers Tendulkar as a quiet young boy. “He stayed with my friend Jackie Knight, who was the Scotland wicketkeeper for five days,” says McLean. “He took Sachin to meet his father’s hero Budhi Kunderan. Sachin played against my club, Strathmore in Forfarshire. I think he scored 80, but I didn’t get to bowl against him.”

McLean, however, has taken the wickets of former Australian Test players Kim Hughes, Justin Langer and Adam Gilchrist. “I have also played against Indian players such as Aunshuman Gaikwad and Ashok Malhotra,” he says. “When I played for Scotland Under-21 against England, I was the leading run-scorer in the series, while Kim Barnett was their top-scorer.”

Impressed with de Silva

Among Gattani’s young stars, it was not an Indian that made the biggest impression. “It was Aravinda de Silva,” says McLean. “He was about 18 and looked already a fantastic player.”

McLean, now, though is more of a fan of Smriti Mandhana. He fell in love with women’s cricket and has been travelling the world to watch the female cricketers live on the grounds.

He has been watching the Women’s T20 World Cup in England and is delighted that Scotland is playing in it. “I had been to India to watch the WPL, where I was happy to see Scotland’s Sarah Bryce play for Delhi Capitals,” he says.

“And I had gone to the UAE for the last Women’s T20 World Cup. I enjoy watching players like Smriti and Shabnim Ismail, the fast bowler”.

Mike Brearley once told me about his father who had played first class cricket for both Yorkshire and Middlesex. Late in life, damaged by Alzheimer’s, he had no understanding of the state of the game or the players he watched on television. “But,” said Brearley, “he could still be moved by a well-played stroke.” I often think of this.

To be moved by a well-played stroke is a blessing, even when it may be among the last life has to offer. In the shorter formats, where the focus is on a kind of frantic, reckless batsmanship, there is still room for the elegant cover drive or the gentle leg glance.

A shot into the stands in the IPL might provoke a collective scream, but there is too the gasp, the intake of breath that greets the exquisite cover drive. For a fraction of a second, the crowd doesn’t react because beauty requires recognition before appreciation.

Beauty of a cover drive

The cover drive off a fast bowler is particularly special because it is about timing, balance, and the joy of using the bowler’s weapon, pace, against him. It is a civilised response to aggression. Sachin Tendulkar said, “When you middle the cover drive, you don’t feel the ball hit the bat.” The sound of a cover drive is gentle, and comes from somewhere deep. The stroke contains cricket’s essential contradiction: violence disguised as grace.

The great English all rounder Wilfred Rhodes continued to attend matches after he had lost his sight in both eyes. He could recognise a beautifully played cover drive purely from the sound of the bat caressing the ball.

We often make the mistake of assuming that aesthetics is about beauty alone. The IPL reminds us that beauty is only one mode of the aesthetic experience. The sublime, the grotesque, the melancholic, the chaotic, and the uncanny all belong to the aesthetic realm.

There is beauty in a cover drive that is matched by few events on a cricket field. But Urvil Patel in his record-equalling 50 off 13 balls brought to the viewer something chaotic, something desperate as he tried to hit that six or that boundary; perhaps he sacrificed beauty for effectiveness, something his team will be grateful for. Beauty is not something that grows out of cricket; it is in a player’s DNA. It is not about the sport, but about the individual.

It was said of Ranji that he was incapable of an ugly stroke. This has been said of later batters as well.

Every generation has its anointed player of grace. When I was younger, it was Gundappa Viswanath who drove past cover or cut square with elegance and control. He owned the area from extra cover to third man on the off side, often playing late enough to embarrass geometry.

He played the back cut too, a shot that had gone out of cricket. Till now, that is, when batters in the IPL seem to have revived it, admittedly less elegantly and with greater frenzy. Sometimes the ordinary can be made to look extraordinary through sheer will.

Scorecards are indifferent to aesthetics. Cardus wrote that the scoreboard is an ass. The essential difference between red-ball cricket and the formats played in white is in the attitude to the scoreboard. In the former, it is an ass; in the latter, it is everything. A boundary struck with the elegance of a V.V.S. Laxman or a Rohit Sharma fetches the same return as one that takes the edge and trickles past third man.

Long after six-hitting contests blur into one another, the perfect cover drive endures. A bent knee. A high elbow. The whisper of leather meeting willow. The ball threading the outfield while fielders are reduced to statues. We glimpse the very soul of cricket.

It is possible that, as one writer has suggested, today’s batter gets more value for the same effort (in terms of runs) than those from the past, but the spectator gets less value (in terms of beauty). In other words, tell me who your favourite batter is, and I will tell you your age!

Even the journeyman can briefly attain greatness in one stroke before slipping back into ordinariness. The well-played stroke is both possibility and fulfilment.