Rohit Sharma: Real, raw and a true romantic

The Indian men’s cricket captain, now retired from T20 internationals, has navigated the question marks by evaluating his process with calm consideration

Ludwig Van Beethovan wrote a love letter to his ‘immortal beloved’. He said: ‘My thoughts go out to you, my immortal beloved. I can live only wholly with you or not at all. Be calm my life, my all. Only by calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together.’ He goes on to be more evocative in his romantic gesture of a love letter. But I’m interested just in the part that I have mentioned. To me, these are words that Indian men’s cricket captain Rohit Sharma would have uttered to himself over and over again in the quest for his ‘immortal beloved’. The one he yearned for decades. It’s great to be a part of a World Cup-winning team, but to lead one to glory is arriving at a different realm of success. And thus, he’s only the third Indian skipper to win an ICC title after Kapil Dev in 1983 and MS Dhoni’s first in 2007. Rohit Sharma’s emotions were visceral and raw. After that last delivery, though it seemed like a foregone conclusion in the penultimate one, Rohit fell onto his chest, lying down flat, and thumped the ground hard. Staring hard at the very earth that had birthed historic moments, he broke into tears—in fact, almost the whole team did. Men in their 30s were bawling and getting emotional at finally accomplishing the desires of a billion and bringing their own dreams to fruition. It choked up an entire nation. In that moment, life had come a full circle for Rohit Sharma. The boy from Borivali had etched his name in the annals of cricket history. From someone touted as the most talented cricketer, who went through phases of flattering to deceive, to now bossing over world cricket, the transition of Rohit, the leader, is complete with this triumph. To understand what makes Rohit tick, we must look at where he began and what he went on to do. He has seen the entire spectrum. He’s gone through bouts of inconsistency to flashes of sheer brilliance. If you glance over his numbers, you’ll see that his talent didn’t justify his performances, resulting in him not making it to the 2011 World Cup squad. He came back with vengeance right after. A batter who took at least 7–10 innings to reach a fifty was striking a fifty with more consistency post that World Cup. Setbacks made him stronger. And that also resulted in a call-up in whites—the pinnacle of playing cricket. It was not smooth sailing in this format, no. He started off with a bang against the West Indies, scoring two big centuries, but he was faltering against the bigger sides. His next hundred did not come until four years later. There were constant jibes over his presence on the test side. Critics were questioning his selection, and the phrase ‘long rope for Rohit’ was used quite often. Commentators would ask if he was really that talented to deserve so many chances, while there were many in the country waiting to enter the door. But that’s the thing: Rohit was not paying any attention to the noise around him. He just continued playing the way he always did, with the flair that was part of his psyche and second nature. No wonder he delivered results that were monumental. He did not just notch up hundreds in ODIs; but daddy knocks. When he scored a double ton for the first time in 2013, it was absolutely blinding. You look at such occurrences and pen them down as a once-in-a-lifetime episode. But he did it again, just a year later, and then again three years on. And as the years passed, Rohit was no longer worrying about his consistency or his place in the side. He was watching, learning, and picking up cues to lead. He was looking to do bigger things all the while. Just like his career and the trajectory always reflected. He was accepting his own story and treading his own path with his own convictions and beliefs. Rohit’s single-minded focus was pretty much like his talent—one in a million. The last few years were going to be tougher. It always feels great to take over the reigns from someone else because there is exuberance and expectation. But Rohit and the Indian team were failing to cross the line when it came to cricket’s biggest prize—the World Cup. The trauma of being good but not the best is not one that anyone can bear with calmness and fortitude. Rohit’s biggest strength during these years was his calm consideration. That’s the kind of captain he proved to be. He became a friend, rather than a teacher. He found the right balance in his captaincy to admonish and assuage in equal measure and with great tact. Even in the failures, you couldn’t really fault the method and the synergy that his leadership was achieving. And when he did the Ric Flair jig to pick up that ICC trophy, his pain and anguish found their way to raw relief and ecstasy. The image of a misty-eyed Rohit folding his hands and thanking a delirious crowd would stay with me. His post-match conversations, where he spoke of how he hardly slept the night before and how he was a bundle of nerves, just spoke volumes of how real the moment was. The nerves didn’t show, because Rohit never panicked when Heinrich Klaasen threatened to take the game away from India. The sleep deprivation didn’t show because Rohit kept a calm head to execute what will be one of India’s most iconic victories in white-ball cricket. Rohit has navigated the question marks by evaluating his process with calm consideration. He knew every step of the way, and only then could he achieve the purpose of his existence and realise a billion dreams. His romantic serenade of the World Cup was fulfilled. The views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.