The talk these days is all about whether Rohit Sharma and Virat Kohli will last until the next World Cup. Speculation, debates, and opinions are flying thick and fast. But honestly, I only hope and pray that these two stalwarts stay away from the last pages of newspapers and, more importantly, from the noise of social media—be it Twitter or Facebook—at least until the World Cup ends.
There is a reason why the saying “form is temporary, class is permanent” has stood the test of time.
Take the case of Shubman Gill. His tremendous form in England seemed to suddenly disappear, almost as if it walked out of the front door. Now, slowly but surely, it is finding its way back through the window. This is quite common with youngsters—their performances fluctuate as they learn and evolve. But for players who have scored tons of runs and built a legacy, it works differently. Their form may slip out of the window, but it invariably walks back in through the door.
That is precisely why selectors persist with senior pros. They are not just picked to perform but to provide balance and stability to the younger lot. And more often than not, they deliver. You rarely see such players lost in uncertainty or stuck in the “corridor” of doubt for too long.
Meanwhile, the usual hype around the Indian Premier League has already begun. It is a spectacle, no doubt, and deserves the attention it gets. But when it comes to contributions from overseas players—particularly Australians—it’s worth taking a closer look.
With due respect, only a handful have truly made a lasting impact in the IPL—names like Shane Warne, Michael Hussey, David Warner, and, more recently, Mitchell Marsh. Beyond these, the cupboard appears rather bare.
The reason, perhaps, lies in the deep camaraderie among Australian players. Their strong cricketing culture, shaped by upbringing, familiar conditions, and a distinct style of play, makes them more comfortable within their own ecosystem. Their approach to the game, their pitches, and even their administrative systems differ significantly from those in other parts of the world. In Australia, there is little patience for anything but success. The past is rarely dwelled upon—it is always about the next challenge.
I still remember being shocked when I saw Herbert Sutcliffe, one of the finest batsmen alongside the great Don Bradman, associated with selling cricket equipment in a shop. It was difficult to digest then, and it remains so even today.
Unfortunately, in India too, many cricketers of the past have not always been treated with the dignity they deserve. The players from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s belonged to a different era altogether. Playing the Ranji Trophy itself was a significant achievement back then. The conditions were tougher, opportunities fewer, and recognition limited.
And yet today, pension criteria expect them to have played 25 matches. This, frankly, is illogical.
I personally know players like Zakir Hussain from Hyderabad and Shyam Prasad—fondly known as Mama—from Andhra, both of whom played 24 matches each. Just one short of the benchmark. Where is the logic in denying them what they rightfully deserve?
It is perhaps time for the Board of Control for Cricket in India to revisit and rethink such policies with sensitivity and fairness.
That said, there are no complaints and certainly no regrets. Having played the game of cricket itself is a privilege.
Just a thought.
