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Advent of electronic media made Sachin Tendulkar a much bigger icon than Sunil Gavaskar

To an entire generation of cricket followers in India, Sunil Gavaskar means much more than most can imagine. Piyush Pandya, an ardent follower of the sport since the late 1960s, discusses the impact the original Little Master had on the fans back in the days when cricket was mostly followed through radio commentary and newspaper reports.

Edited By : Piyush Pandya |Nov 26, 2013, 02:13 PM IST

Published On Nov 26, 2013, 02:13 PM IST

Last UpdatedNov 26, 2013, 02:13 PM IST

Advent of electronic media made Sachin Tendulkar a much bigger icon than Sunil Gavaskar

Prior to Sunil Gavaskar (right), if an Indian cricketer appeared in an advertisement, it had more to do with his looks than for his cricketing charisma. With the advent of television, Sachin Tendulkar became a mega commodity and gradually, cricketers were identified more as commercial prospects than as players © AFP

To an entire generation of cricket followers in India, Sunil Gavaskar means much more than most can imagine. Piyush Pandya, an ardent follower of the sport since the late 1960s, discusses the impact the original Little Master had on the fans back in the days when cricket was mostly followed through radio commentary and newspaper reports.

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It’s been little over a week since a certain Sachin Tendulkar hung his boots. Understandably, many in Indian cricket see his retirement as the end of an era.

Indians in the 20-40 age group, the generation that grew up in the so-called digital age in particular, tend to believe that the heroic rise of Tendulkar in stature was the first of its kind and that India has not seen an Indian cricketing superhero before. The fact is, for all his stupendous achievements, Tendulkar is still the second superhero from India — the first being Sunil Gavaskar.

Gavaskar was a phenomenon. Before his arrival on the international stage, there were several brilliant Indian cricketers — CK Nayudu, Vijay Merchant, Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi and Gundappa Viswanath to name a few. But none rose to the heights that Gavaskar did and captured the imagination of his countrymen in particular and the world in general.

The modern generation may not recognise the gravity of the circumstances when Gavaskar entered the international scene in 1970-71. Though India had already been in international cricket for almost four decades, the composite Indian team was looked down upon as a unit which lacked the zeal that was needed to be recognised as fighters, let alone winners.

The entry of Gavaskar triggered a change. He scored a hundred, a double hundred, a triple hundred and a 99 in the Inter-university tournament, which was a fairly relevant league back in the day, to force his way into the Indian team for the 1971 tour of the West Indies, where he scored 774 runs in four Tests and played a significant role in what was India’s first series win in the Caribbean.

His batsmanship apart, Gavaskar also displayed an analytical cricketing brain. With passage of time he grew in stature, which no Indian before could command in world cricket.

Indian cricket looked way different in the 70s as the electronic media was still in its infancy. Radio commentary was the biggest source of live coverage. Few homes had radio sets and even in those blessed with one, the elders would decide when (and if) to listen to the commentary! Test matches (there were no One-Day Internationals and T20s then) on foreign soil were not accessible as our radio sets would not capture the signals transmitted from far away. One remembers the 1975 series in West Indies when All India Radio brought the matches live from the Caribbean. Owing to the time difference, by late night, the signals would invariably go off. Fans waited eagerly for the morning newspapers to check through the scorecards. Digital photography was still unheard of and images accompanying the reports were had very poor resolution.

There were no endorsement agencies. Prior to Sunil Gavaskar, if an Indian cricketer appeared in an advertisement, it had more to do with his looks than for his cricketing charisma. The cricketers were heroes, crowd pullers, but at the same time were easily accessible. There were no security personnel to keep away the fans.

I remember a Ranji Trophy match in December 1972 played in my college ground at Nadiad, a small city in the central Gujarat. Sunil Gavaskar was already a national hero and we were all thrilled to find him on our campus early morning on match day. We could watch him practice in the nets from very close. Once the practice session was over, we picked up courage to go and invite him to our hostel room. He readily agreed and that evening was reserved for us. Alas, there was no camera to capture a national hero among some awe-eyed youngsters. His gesture towards his fans left an indelible mark on my mind.

The economic reforms coincided with the advent of electronic media and its evolution at a pace one would never have imagined. Once cricket matches were telecast live, the craze for players rose at a rate far greater than the craze for the game itself. Realising the potential of the game and its popularity in the Indian subcontinent, big fishes inevitably entered the arena and gradually, cricketers were identified more as commodities than as players. With his humungous talent, Tendulkar became a mega commodity. But as he grew, the physical distance between him and his fans widened — because of time constraints and security reasons.

Modern media hype tends to cloud perception. It gives the impression that Tendulkar is the greatest thing that ever happened to Indian cricket. But to an entire generation before Tendulkar’s arrival, few inspired them as much as Gavaskar. In fact, Tendulkar himself grew up idolising Gavaskar.

(Piyush Pandya is a senior professor in Microbiology and a huge devotee of cricket. He believes, Gundappa Viswanath’s square cut is the closest cricket has reached divinity)