The Selfish Patriot

The turbulent Sourav Ganguly may have been the least gifted of the Fab Four but, in some ways, his quirks took him the furthest. SURESH MENON assesses a complicated legacy

Father's pride: Ganguly with daughter Sana Photo: Reuters

WE DO NOT speak ill of the dead or the recently retired; in fact we swing the other way and call them ‘great’ without embarrassment. Ever since he announced his retirement, Sourav Ganguly has been elevated to greatness, but the fact is he gained by association. If Sachin Tendulkar had to be brought down a couple of notches to fit him into the so-called ‘Fab Four’ group, then Ganguly had to be pushed up a couple to settle alongside Rahul Dravid and VVS Laxman.

Ganguly was not a great player, but he was a significant one in the context of Indian cricket as its most successful Test captain. Great players are not necessarily significant, nor significant players necessarily great. Barry Richards is an example of the former while Arjuna Ranatunga is an obvious example of the latter.

In the early 1990s, two players emerged from contrasting backgrounds. In Kolkata, Ganguly, born in the lap of luxury (even the silver spoon in his mouth was actually gold) began to serve notice. Across the country in Mumbai, born the same year, Vinod Kambli lived in a slum, struggled for existence and was beginning to discover that cricket could be a way out of the poverty. What they had in common was the ability to bat left-handed.

At that stage, any self-respecting sociologist would have told you who would be the bigger success — Kambli — arguing, “The slum boy has the greater hunger, more desperation and the crying need to climb out of his circumstances; the rich lad is a spoilt brat, too used to having everything drop into his lap and will disappear very soon.”

Yet, while Kambli is virtually forgotten today (despite making double centuries in successive Tests, he is best known as Tendulkar’s school friend), Ganguly, who made his Test debut three seasons later, played over 100 Tests and finished as one of the finest batsmen ever in one-day cricket. And, surprisingly, for one with a reputation for selfishness and inability to see beyond the tip of his Mercedes, a captain successful both statistically and psychologically.

Such contradictions have been a guiding force in Ganguly’s life. It is a Ganguly trait to overturn comfortable, preconceived notions of what ought to be. He took the clichés of the sport and reshaped them. If cricket was a gentleman’s game, he delighted in, metaphorically, drawing a false beard on its face or tweaking its nose. If turning the other cheek was expected of those who were slapped, he was happy to show the other cheek, but not the one on his face.