Till yesterday not many had even one nice word to spare for Virender Sehwag, or a spot of consideration for that matter, to lighten the darkness swirling in his tea cup. He was an object of derision - with a barrel cast on his head, confusing him, beaten up from all sides by sundry television anchors, journalists and social media inmates, who chortled with every blow they landed on him. A perverse orgy was played out by these consanguineously intermarried groups. Throw in the tribe of blogging cricket gurus too, into this callous, unholy group. They danced all around him chanting, "Lie there, lie there, you false cricket player, Lie there, lie there." Viru showed up as false all they said and held in their selves. False prophets all. This morning, many in this group are singing-writing-tweeting-posting a different tune. Because these blades of wild weed can only flow with the prevailing breeze for their benefit. A few other are grudging in admiration and a large many of them have been silenced. Nonplussed by the finesse and delicate brutality of Virender Sehwag's innings against the team from Mumbai.
Components of the miasma that dominates Indian cricket today fear most a successful Virender Sehwag. Because he upsets their plans for their own. He stands as an alternative everyman's idol who shines brightly with his own hard-earned merit - instead of celebrating the many gods in their weird cricket world, these idolisers cannot brook the shine of some, and any other, deity. As long as they cannot benefit by singing his paeans that is. If there is an extra paisa or a follow or hit in store, they'll gladly flatter from the tips of their tongues and tolerate.
Before the innings played by Sachin and Rohit Sharma could be digested, Sehwag walked out smiling and set about the Mumbai attack making them appear very flimsy indeed. Two delicate drives he played on the off side, around the point, were all wrists, indicating to one and all who said otherwise, that he could see and he could bat. It was classic Viru and so silken was he, any true follower of the game couldn't have done anything but suck in his breath in astonishment at their construction.
Bare figures will say he remained unbeaten on 95 scored off a mere 50-odd balls in Delhi's first march to victory this season, but nothing, no amount of creative writing, can convey the magnificence of the innings than the turn of coat Viru's innings provided to coverage and chatter based upon him.
A rant isn't the best way to bring out the breath-taking characteristics of his innings last evening, but it will have to suffice for now. Maybe a ballad or a composition tomorrow, or day after or next weekend, but today, there is no better tool than a rant.
Play on Viru, we like your style of batsmanship.
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