Favourite Ganguly moments

'Beginning of new India' - Kapil

November 10, 2008

	Time spent in the domestic circuit reflected in Sourav Ganguly's Test debut at Lord's © Getty Images

Kapil Dev, former India coach

That evening in 2002, standing on the Lord's balcony, when Sourav took off his shirt and waved to start wild celebrations was a remarkable moment. I can never forget it. For the people of older generation like me it was a tremendous occasion. It marked the beginning of a new India. What was really surprising was here was a team's captain, and not just any player, who had decided to bare his emotions in such a public fashion and that, too, at such an historic venue. It was just unbelievable and fantastic.

Javagal Srinath, fomer India team-mate

The Sourav Ganguly people saw in 1991 and the one who came back in 1996 were completely different and people's perception about him changed in his second coming. Nothing surprised more than that. He had transformed in his game, but, importantly he was on top of his game during those four to five years on the domestic circuit. It's always good to spend time in domestic cricket to gain experience in those early years, but he performed consistently and that showed in his century at Lord's on his Test debut.

Saba Karim, former Bengal and India team-mate

I was Sourav's captain during the beginning of his domestic career and also played under him. Before his Test debut in 1996 he was a player, who, at times, could be nervous, someone who was not sure of his own ability. But once he started to play for India regularly he found that belief easily. After a good performance in an ODI series in Pakistan [Wills Trophy] he turned up to lead Bengal in a Ranji game against Orissa on a what was a sub-standard pitch. Though he failed in the ODI and and later in the first innings of the four-day game, he came out stronger when it was the most crucial. We were set small target in a low-scoring game and Ganguly decided to push himself up to the No. 3 from his usual No. 5. He made only 30, the second highest in the innings, but the way he took the responsibility on himself calmed the nerves of his team-mates. That day I felt his transformation from a domestic to international cricketer was complete. It showed me how he had held his own to stay put and had learned quickly from playing for the country.

Andy Flower, former Zimbabwe captain

When he used to play a left-arm spinner, not one particular, I was always amazed at his power of hitting over the boundary especially since the ball was coming into him. That to me was my favourite Sourav Ganguly moment.

Deep Dasgupta, fomer Bengal team-mate

When he was dropped from the Irani Cup he was obviously upset as he had been looking forward to play the Australian series. Even before his omission he had been working really hard. Despite the disappointment and his stature he didn't give up. Next day, he was back to his usual training. That spoke a lot about his dedication, his passion. He just set an example for everyone. That spoke a lot about his personality and his character.

The prince with the common touch

The prince with the common touch

Ganguly's enduring legacy will be that of a leader who took Indian cricket out of its feudal past

When he was golden: Ganguly gets his hundred at Brisbane in 2004 © Getty Images

In the end, the timing of the retirement was as impeccable as the strokes through cover with which he captivated the game's aficionados in his heyday. Sourav Ganguly's career will be defined by the games he played, and didn't play, against Australia, and he will relish the chance to be part of an Indian side that has the opportunity to equal the feats of the team he led so famously seven years ago. As last stands go, this could be a memorable one.

Assuming he plays all four matches, Ganguly will finish with 113 Test caps. After his maiden tour with the Indian team - to Australia in 1991-92 - ended with an unfavourable report from a manager who would subsequently go on to be the BCCI president, even one cap must have seemed a distant dream. When we look back at the furore that accompanied his selection for the tour of England in 1996, it says more about the mindset of the time than it does about Ganguly the cricketer.

All the insinuations and scathing articles were indicative of a rotten system that could rarely see beyond the cricketing hotbeds of Mumbai, Delhi and Karnataka. If you were from Bengal or Tamil Nadu, or an even lesser state, the chances were that you weren't even a blip on the radar. In many ways Ganguly's second coming and century on debut at Lord's were to herald a shift away from parochialism, a sea change that was completed during his years as captain. These days, if no one bats an eyelid when a boy from Rae Bareilly or another from Kochi dons the India cap, much of the credit must go to the Bengali who became a pan-Indian hero.

Ganguly was no great tactician in the Ian Chappell or Mike Brearley mould, but like Sir Frank Worrell he was able to create a coherent symphony from discordant notes. Much like the West Indies of the 1950s, the Indian team that Ganguly inherited contained many talented individuals with no real sense of collective purpose. With him leading, they came together under the Indian standard, and ushered in what must surely rank as the golden age of Indian cricket.

Though his name will forever be associated with the stopping of Steve Waugh's juggernaut in 2001 and the run to the World Cup final two years later, my favourite Ganguly memory will always be that glorious 144 at the Gabba in 2003.

The days leading up to the Test had been full of innuendo about chin music and Ganguly being the weak link in the line-up. "That's typical of how Australia play their cricket; they play it tough and use their media," he said with fleeting smile on the eve of the game. "Even Steve Waugh gets short-pitched deliveries, and he has got 32 hundreds."

When probed further about the short-ball barrage that he could expect, Ganguly smiled again and said: "When you play cricket, you don't expect everything pitched up to you. We who have played Test cricket for a longer period of time have received short deliveries. I do not think about it. Fortunately or unfortunately, they don't leave the newspaper under the door in my hotel."

	Much like the West Indies of the 1950s, the Indian team that Ganguly inherited contained many talented individuals with no real sense of collective purpose. With him leading, they came together under the Indian standard, and ushered in what must surely rank as the golden age of Indian cricket

When he came out to bat in a game severely disrupted by rain, India were reeling at 62 for 3. By the time he departed, having earned grudging respect even from the Fanatics who had seen Andy Bichel, the local hero, taken to the laundromat, India had a healthy lead. Waugh and all of Australia knew that Ganguly was in no mood to blink first.

That innings, full of glorious cuts and languid drives, was emblematic of Ganguly the batsman, who always got a raw deal because his numbers didn't quite stack up next to the other three in a famous middle order. Given how much the captaincy diminished the batting returns of more lauded batsmen like Michael Vaughan and Rahul Dravid, it's only fair to wonder how good a player Ganguly might have been without captaincy's ball and chain.

The figures are revealing. In the 49 Tests in which he led India, he averaged 37.66, well below what you would expect from a batsman of his quality. In 60 other games, he scored at 44.60. That he has made more runs than any other Indian batsman since his return to the Test fold in 2006 merely makes you think of what might have been.

The Ganguly tale has its most turbulent moments in the days when Greg Chappell was India's coach. When he choose Chappell, going against his team-mates' preference for Tom Moody, Ganguly couldn't have imagined the impact it would have on his career. There were mistakes on both sides and it seems churlish to apportion blame, and the most appropriate way to remember the whole sordid episode is as an example of cultural disconnect.

The last year of Ganguly's captaincy saw a marked decline in his batsmanship and raised questions about his ability to galvanise the side, especially in the wake of a withdrawal from the Nagpur Test that stunned even his confidantes in the dressing room. When the captaincy was wrested from him, both his attitude and appetite for the game were questioned. But like Geoffrey Boycott in the days before a triumphant return from self-imposed exile in the 1970s, Ganguly spent the months on the periphery fiercely determined to challenge accepted stereotypes.

When he did return, with a cursory handshake from Chappell at a tour game in Potchefstroom, the sense of purpose was palpable. His doughty half-century helped inspire a famous victory at the Wanderers, and even as India squandered a series-winning chance in Cape Town, he was the only one to bat without fear and hesitancy perched on his shoulders. Reduced to a foot soldier, the former general had rediscovered his appetite for the battlefield.

He batted with elegance and poise in England a few months later, and was magnificent in the home series against Pakistan and South Africa. There were no Brisbane-like heroics in Australia last time round, however.

Little did Ganguly foresee when he put his weight behind Chappell's candidacy for the coach's job, the bitterness that lay ahead © AFP

Given his domination of spin bowlers over the years, the failure in Sri Lanka was surprising, especially given that he was the one specialist batsman not to be dismissed by Ajantha Mendis. That he was repeatedly dismissed by Muttiah Muralitharan, who he had tamed so memorably on his home patch at Kandy in 2001, suggested that both the eyes and reflexes were slowing down. With the curtain having been wrenched down on his one-day career in Australia earlier this year, you wondered if the reservoir of desire had begun to run dry.

After more than a decade at the top Ganguly has nothing to prove. He's come a long way, this favourite son of Kolkata, the "God of the off side" who went on to become India's most successful captain. During the journey he established himself as one of the greats of the one-day game, the exorcist of India's overseas hoodoo and a maverick who upset Waugh and also the old suits at Lord's with those shirtless antics on the red-brick balcony.

It's somehow fitting that the last words will possibly be written in Nagpur, the venue that came to symbolise the Rubicon of his days as a leader. Four years on, he's part of a group that could reclaim modern-day Test cricket's ultimate prize, the Border-Gavaskar Trophy. Whether he achieves that or not, the legacy is secure.

Many may have described him as a prince, wrongly as a snooty one, but first and foremost he was the leader with the common touch and the man responsible for dragging Indian cricket out of its feudal past. MS Dhoni and many others who subsequently emerged from what Arvind Adiga, the Booker Prize nominee, described as The Darkness, have a lot to thank him for.

The many sides of Sourav

The many sides of Sourav

Sometimes a rebel, often a creative force, always in the thick of it, Ganguly has been a many-layered character, and his career an astonishing one

Sourav Ganguly seemed on the surface to not take things too seriously, but the fires of competition burned hot in him © AFP

Gangles was fun. Every now and then a fellow feels like tearing off his shirt and waving it around like Mick Jagger with a microphone. Of all places, Sourav Ganguly responded to the urge at Lord's, holiest of cricketing holies. So much for decorum. He might as well have burped in St Paul's. Every now and then a fellow feels an insult coming on. Ganguly was rude to Steve Waugh, captain of all Australia, the mightiest foe of them all. So much for deference. Typically it started as a misjudgment and became an amusement that turned into a strategy.

Ganguly did not mind directing the fire at himself. What could they do? Bowl bumpers? Already every fast bowler worth his salt had tried to knock off his head. He had no lordly lineage but he walked and talked as he pleased, not exactly trying to provoke opponents but unwilling to deny himself. He did not give much ground to the modern game, with its fitness and diving and running between wickets and morning training and all that rot. It was brave of him to remain apart, for it left him exposed to ridicule, forced him to justify himself. But Ganguly was not scared of the pressure. Perhaps he needed the extra pressure the way a veteran car needs a crank. And, just in case, he had the populist touch. If Anil Kumble was the colossus, Sachin Tendulkar the champion, Rahul Dravid the craftsman, VVS Laxman the sorcerer, then Ganguly was the inspiration.

It has been an astonishing career. Some men prefer to follow a predictable path and their stories tell of a slow rise to the top and an equally measured decline. To that end instinct is subdued, contention avoided and risk reduced. That has been altogether too dull for Ganguly. Throughout he has toyed with his fate, tempting it to turn its back on him so that once again he could surprise the world with a stunning restoration. Something in him rebelled against the mundane and the sensible. He needed his life to be full of disasters and rescues, and comebacks and mistakes and memorable moments. To hell with the prosaic. At heart he is a cavalier, albeit of mischievous persuasion.

Taken as a whole, his contribution has been a triumph. It is no small thing for a boy from Kolkata to make it in Indian cricket. Till then local players were regarded as soft touches, and Ganguly himself was so categorised in his early days. Whereas the Mumbai-ites had risen through a rigorous system and the outstation boys had fought every inch of the way, the Bengalis seemed to lack the toughness required to make the grade. Ganguly changed all that. Indeed it was one of the many tasks he set himself. Always he has pitted himself against presumption and always he has prevailed.

Heavens, he even managed to time his departure as sweetly as ever he did any cover-drive. Before the series began he disarmingly announced that these four Tests against Australia were going to be his last. At a stroke his announcement put an end to speculation that he might lose his place. Ganguly is shrewder than he pretends. Just for a day or so it seemed that he might not get his way as reports spread of indiscreet remarks supposedly made about Robin Uthappa's hair, but Ganguly disowned the comments, even the splendid one about "every Tom, Dick and Harry" playing in the team. And so, once again, he lived to fight another day. Mind you, he let them hang in the air for 72 hours! That was typical Ganguly: at once the hero and the villain.

	Throughout he has toyed with his fate, tempting it to turn its back on him so that once again he could surprise the world with a stunning restoration. Something in him rebelled against the mundane and the sensible. He needed his life to be full of disasters and rescues

To some extent his manner has distracted attention from his cricket. Above all he has been a fine player whose career tells of determination and perseverance. As a batsman he played numerous influential innings. Often he was at his best on the game's greatest stages (including Lord's, where he first made his mark) or when the chips were down. Then he could concentrate. In less stressful times his batting could be flashy, with shots vaguely executed and the outcome left to the gods. Ganguly was not a collector of runs but a match player. Such men cannot be judged only in terms of tallies.

As captain he was an uplifting figure prepared to stand up for his players. It is easily forgotten that his captaincy started with Indian cricket at its lowest ebb. Hereabouts India was extremely lucky to have at its disposal a superb group of senior players untouched by those dire events, and a new captain free from the insecurity and greed that had undone his predecessor. Accepting money from grubby sources was, one sensed, beneath Ganguly. He just did not move in those circles or think along those lines.

Not that Ganguly alone deserves all the credit for India's swift recovery. Around him could be found a resolute and principled bunch of cricketers. They needed someone to blow the bugle and Ganguly obliged. That is leadership. Alone among the cricketing nations, his Indian side repeatedly troubled the Australians. Under his leadership the team prevailed in England, daring to bat first on a Headingley greentop. Indeed the very image of Indian cricket changed - a process started by Sunil Gavaskar and completed by Ganguly and companions. No longer does anyone talk about timidity against fast bowling or languishing overseas. Driven in varying degrees by pride and professionalism, the now-departing generation acknowledged these weaknesses, confronted them and corrected them.

Always Ganguly was in the thick of it. No matter how often he was discarded he bounced back. No matter how frequently his cricketing obituary was written he found a way back into the team. At times he seemed to relish the headlines forecasting his imminent and final downfall. He is not by nature defiant. It is too petty an emotion. Just that he liked to prove doubters wrong. Criticism spurred him on. Otherwise he was inclined to become lethargic. He revelled in his reputation as an independent man who lived and played by his own lights.

He is not a man easily pinned down. Although it is never wise to suppose a man can be caught in a single adjective, it is much easier with his contemporaries. To watch Rahul Dravid or Virender Sehwag or Anil Kumble play is to know a large part of them. Ganguly liked to keep people guessing. Perhaps it is his background. Is it possible that the son of a wealthy businessman might have had some reservations, even embarrassment, about becoming a professional cricketer? Deep down Ganguly belonged to the old days, not so much of aristocracy as of ease. He cast himself as a sportsman, a player of games, and on the surface did not take it too seriously. And yet the fires of competition burned hot.

In some respects he has been a rebel, against the expectations of his origins, against dutiful modern ways, against the patronising of his country. But he is too large a figure to be motivated by anything as shrivelling as anger. Rather he has been a creative force in the game. As a batsman he was full of neatly executed strokes. It was not in his nature to brutalise the ball. Nor was he a poet caressing it with a delicate touch. Neither extreme attracted him in the slightest. Instead he stroked the ball, guiding it between fieldsmen or lifting it over their heads. It looked effortless but some men like to hide the strain.

Ganguly was at his most effective against the Australians, and his Brisbane hundred in 2003 showed he wasn't as fragile as he seemed © AFP

He has an unusual and unconventional mind. Often he will make the remark that raises eyebrows, causes people to stop and think. After all the hullabaloo of the travesty in Sydney, his stepped back and said that it had shown "how desperately the Australians want to win". All India was in a rage and yet a part of him respected that unbridled determination to prevail. He saw the meaning of the whole thing. Indeed he must have taken satisfaction from it. Australia has worked themselves into a lather over beating India. The rivalry had been largely his creation. And India had stood its ground. He had played his part in that as well.

Ganguly was at his most effective against the Australians. Somehow he sensed that the two nations had a lot in common, though they knew it not. But he felt that his players were unduly intimidated by the reputations and muscularity of these opponents. Accordingly he set out to convince them that the Aussies were human and could be beaten. In India he turned up late for the toss, a cheekiness that began as an accident and became an amusing tactic. It worked. The Australians became riled and started to play the man and not the ball. They had fallen into Ganguly's trap. His players could see that he was neither scared nor scarred, and enjoyed plucking the giant's beard. As captain Ganguly understood the value of gestures, the importance of appearances.

By no means, though, was it all gestures. Ganguly was the real thing, or else he could not have carried his players along with him. In Australia in 2003-04 he knew that his struggling team needed him to lead the way in the critical hour with a captain's innings and in Brisbane he promptly produced a rousing, valorous hundred on a lively pitch against a rampant attack. It was this performance that confirmed, once and for all, that Ganguly was not as fragile as he seemed. A twig can be snapped but not even a tempest can uproot a tree. It also secured the respect of his initially reluctant opponents, who know a fighter when they see one. As far as the Aussies were concerned, Lord Snooty had earned his stripes. It is one thing to talk, quite another to follow up with deeds.

And now he leaves the scene. Although he has batted with silky serenity in this series, it is the right time to go. A man has only so many struggles in him. A player's supporters have only so many battles in them. Perhaps in the last few days of his career he will play his part in India's greatest cricketing feat, the downing of Australia not by miraculous deed but sustained ruthlessness. If so it will be no more than he deserves. Ganguly has been neither a genius or a saint or a great batsman, but he has served with distinction and leaves Indian cricket in a much better state than he found it.

Sourav Ganguly fired Bengal's imagination

Eastern son

Sourav Ganguly fired Bengal's imagination. He was a talisman the state had waited too long for.

November 10, 2008

	For all Bengal: in Ganguly came the answer to years of prayer for a hometown boy who had made good © AFP

I am writing this in the early-morning Sunday quiet of my Mumbai flat, an eye on the clock, my nerves tingling a bit, the sense of keyed-up anticipation that all addicts know flowing through my system as I wait for the fourth day's play in Nagpur to begin.

I am relishing the wait; the hours leading up to the first ball are an excruciatingly slow, gorgeously pleasurable wind-up. Thank heavens for Test cricket - again: play gets underway as early as 9.30am.

It's a big day in a big game in a big series. But hang on. Isn't there something else too? Yes, at some point later today, Sourav Ganguly is likely to come out to bat for the last time in his international career.

I have just returned from Kolkata, my - and Ganguly's - hometown, and the public discourse over there in clubs, bars and street corners (sorry, that may not be a fabulously representative sample, but those are the places I tend to hang out at when I go to Kolkata on my annual visit) was dominated by the former captain and his decision to quit. Was he pushed? Should he have quit? Couldn't he have played for a little while longer? Oh, Dada!

Hell, the largest-selling Bengali daily put Ganguly in as part of the headline the day Sachin Tendulkar got his 40th Test hundred. (Ganguly was 27 not out at stumps.)

You wouldn't think it talking to the man on the street and reading the Bengali papers but there is among many members of the educated elite in Kolkata a tendency to go against the grain and profess no extra love for Ganguly. The way it works is to specifically say that the masses illogically, irrationally support Ganguly. In a way, this stands to reason: Kolkata is a city of self-conscious irony; it is bashfully apologetic about itself and is suffused with a severe abhorrence of self-congratulation in certain circles.

Several of my friends resort to this sort of thing. I never have. I have always been an admirer of Ganguly's. And I insist that my admiration has nothing to do with being parochial. Nor do I think I need to go against the grain in this respect to exhibit my distinctiveness from the masses.

But I have been thinking about it this morning. And, you know, I've been asking myself if it is at all possible to entirely divorce parochialism of some form or the other from support. Isn't all support a sort of tribalism? Isn't that what it's all about? I mean, I am a big fan of Roger Federer and John McEnroe and Diego Maradona, but with cricket, a sport in which we are actually good? You tell me.

Well, Bengal's fanaticism about Ganguly is to do with parochialism. I am not sure if this is something to be bashfully apologetic about. Sport, you see, as Nick Hornby writes in The Complete Polysyllabic Spree, is part of popular culture, however much some of us try to deny it sometimes. And Bengal has been traditionally big on culture - and tremendously proud of it. If you don't have much else to show - like, say, top industrialists, or a lot of money, what else can you do? Culture is your badge of privilege, of genuine distinction.

Now we always had people who would talk about cricket; who would pride themselves on forming the most literate, intelligent cricket crowd in India (a patent lie. I think it went by a name in the popular press: congnoscenti); who would say that the Eden Gardens had the most atmosphere (a nebulous assertion because one isn't quite certain what "atmosphere" might really, objectively, mean); and who would talk about Kolkata's culture of following cricket in a, well, cultured way.

We had everything, you see. The trouble was, there was no one to follow. We didn't have the players. I mean, okay, Pankaj Roy was from Bengal, but to find people who could recall him in his pomp - well, let's just say you won't find too many of them hanging around at street corners or clubs or bars.

Ganguly fired Bengal's imagination because he was the talisman Bengal had been looking for for decades; he gave us someone to specifically root for. Every state had its players in the national team. Where were Bengal's?

Here was a state that had historically produced nearly no Test players of any stature. In Ganguly came the answer to years of prayer for a hometown boy who had made good. And how good he made. But that's not quite why I admire Ganguly. Or at least that is what I think.

All this I have figured out, keyed up, in the early-morning, Sunday quiet of my Mumbai flat, waiting for play to begin.

I think I am a huge Ganguly fan because of the way he has changed Indian cricket. I have written about this before, but it bears repeating. (Fans can't ever have too much of repetition.)

Becoming captain in November 2000, he forged on the anvil of his spectacular, stare-you-in-the-eye-and-not-blink, tough, provocative leadership a side that went from being crumbling-pitch bullies in India to the team that has beaten the (still) world champions, Australia, on more occasions than any other side in this century; the side that has won around the world; the side that has played with audacity and impunity and courage and guts and beauty.

Indian captains were supposed to be polite, stoic, decent, not overly, demonstrably ambitious, middle class in sensibility if not lineage. Ganguly changed all that.

He was the fulcrum around which the contemporary game's premier confrontation, India versus Australia, was built. Indian cricket was always about silk, about splitting cover and extra cover with neither fielder moving. It took Ganguly to put the steel in it.

	Bengal's fanaticism about Ganguly is to do with parochialism. I am not sure if this is something to be bashfully apologetic about. Sport, as Nick Hornby writes, is part of popular culture, however much some of us try to deny it sometimes

This has been a thrilling decade - why, a thrilling century, I realise as I write this - to be an Indian cricket fan. And we shall be remiss if we don't acknowledge the extent of Ganguly's contribution to that fact.

It is probably true that his record as India's most successful captain ever has somewhat obscured and taken the attention away from his achievements as a batsman. His Test average has never fallen below 40. He is India's fourth-highest Test run-scorer and fourth-highest century-maker. He has played more Tests than all but a handful of players in the history of the game, and he has, in them, offered us numerous beautiful, gutsy, unforgettable performances.

Ganguly himself is acutely aware of this fact. A couple of days ago he was quoted as saying (in - where else but? - a Bengali daily) that he has made more than 2000 runs in the past 22 Tests. He is very conscious of his stats. And why not? If others aren't, perhaps not as much as they ought to be, the man who made the most stirring comeback in contemporary Indian cricket ought to be. It's not something to be exactly ashamed of, is it? Or bashfully apologetic about, perhaps?

But the fact remains that more than Ganguly the batsman, it is Ganguly the captain - the "game changer", as the marketing blokes like to call it - I shall remember. And I shall miss him when he is there no more to remind me of how he did what he did.

Wish you luck, Sourav. Have a good one, mate - as your favourite opponents would say - now that it is all over. And thanks for what you gave us.

It's still nearly an hour to go for the start of play.

His own man- VVS Laxman

His own man

Sourav's batting is a unique mix of touch and power. When he plays those drives on the off, it's all touch, all elegance

VVS Laxman

	VVS Laxman: " The great thing about Sourav is that he doesn't let any criticism bother him. I think that was evident right from the time he made the century on debut at Lord's" © Getty Images

The first time I played with Sourav was in 1994, in a zonal match in Jamshedpur. I had heard a lot about his elegance, and about how strong he was on the off side, but in that particular match he didn't get a big score. The following year, again in the zonal tournament, we met in Lucknow. And again, he didn't get too many - but he did clean bowl me! Since then, of course, I have often had the pleasure of watching him from the non-striker's end.

If I had to sum up Sourav's batting, I would say that it is a unique mix of touch and power. When he plays those drives on the off for instance, it's all touch, all elegance. Timing is his gift. I think that is something one is born with. If at all there is a secret to timing, it is to play the ball early, and Sourav does that.

On the other hand, he has the ability to not only clear the ropes but even the stadium. Right from the start he has had the ability to hit long.

Against spin, my god, he is really a murderer! I have seen him badly dent the careers of some spinners in domestic cricket. There was this left-armer, Sukhvinder Singh, playing for Assam, who was selected for the Challengers in 2001, before the home series against Australia. Sourav just destroyed him, hitting him for more than 30 runs in one over. Nobody heard of poor Sukhvinder after that!

I think playing spin comes very naturally to Sourav: you should see him in the nets. He has that wonderful bat-swing and follow-through, and, just as importantly, the belief that he can clear the boundary whenever he wishes to.

I know he has faced a lot of criticism while batting against fast - especially short-pitched - bowling but honestly I think that's unfair on him. If you can score a hundred at the Gabba, it's not possible that you are unable to play short bowling. I think what happens is that sometimes batsmen go through a phase where they get out in similar fashion a few times, and the impression remains in the minds of people for a long time afterwards. I have seen him play the pull convincingly on many occasions. He certainly did so in Melbourne, when he returned to the crease after having taken a blow to the head.

The great thing about Sourav is that he doesn't let any criticism bother him. I think that was evident right from the time he made the century on debut at Lord's. He is his own man, and an intensely determined one. He always speaks his mind, and doesn't mind throwing the challenge to fast bowlers with his statements. After all, if someone can step out and hit fast bowlers for six over point or long-on, then there is no reason why he should be intimidated by them.

As a captain, he always tells the batsmen to go out and play their natural game. He will never, for example, tell Sehwag to play defensively. He believes that international batsmen should stick to the formula that has got them that far. He is always encouraging the batsmen, reminding them of past successes.

And he has played a few captain's innings too. The 144 at the Gabba was such a positive knock, right from the start. We had to make a good beginning to the series, and Sourav led by example. I can tell you that it really gave the dressing room a lift, knowing that if we played our natural game we could do well in Australia.

He played some really good ones on the West Indies tour of 2002 as well. The two of us had a significant partnership in the second innings in Trinidad. We had to grind out the runs. A big partnership was essential under the circumstances and the wicket was not ideal for strokeplay, with the ball not really coming on to the bat. I wish I could have stayed there longer with him, because he remained not out on 75 - but the important thing is that it was enough for us to win the Test. In the next Test, in Barbados, he batted beautifully in both innings, but unfortunately there was no support for him. I still remember that six he hit off Mervyn Dillon; it landed on the roof of the stadium.

Finally, I'd like to say that Sourav is among the best one-day players I have seen. He has the big shots, and he's worked out his game inside out. He knows when to charge, when to push the single. And he has mastered the art of making hundreds. When he plays like he did against Sri Lanka in the 1999 World Cup, or against South Africa at the ICC Knockout, he makes batting look like the easiest thing in the world. By the time he finishes, that record is going to look phenomenal.

Farewell Ganguly

Farewell Ganguly

	In Australia and England, Ganguly is seen as a man of privilege, someone who clicks his fingers and an army of servants arrives to clip his nails or fan his face © AFP

Unlike most Australians, I like Sourav Ganguly. If he was Australian he’d have been my favourite player at stages over the past decade. Even though I preferred Steve Waugh, I was still amused by Ganguly’s ability to irritate Australia’s on-field Mr Unflustered. Ganguly could melt The Iceman just by turning up late for the toss.

Ganguly is a great tease. If he was Australian he’d be celebrated as a rascal and a larrikin, but as an opponent he’s rude, elitist, prickly, a time waster and serial pest who couldn’t play the short ball. I don’t know why, but I admire him for these weaknesses.

To have appeared in 113 Tests while dealing with short balls as uncomfortably as if he was being shot at by arrows is astounding. The game is hard enough without having to cope with a serious deficiency as well, but Ganguly did it. I didn’t really like his replacing of gloves or protective gear every couple of overs, or his calls for socks, blister pads, face wipes and grapes. Bowling 90 in a day is hard enough without the batsmen joining the turtles with the ball, although it added to Ganguly's character and ate at his opponents.

In Australia and England, Ganguly is seen as a man of privilege, someone who clicks his fingers and an army of servants arrives to clip his nails or fan his face. Maybe his life is like that, but after being dropped as captain and batsman by Greg Chappell, I liked him even more when he had to sweat to come back. Not everything in life was laid out for him.

At a presentation during the week to celebrate his playing achievements, Ganguly spoke about the need to make enemies for the good of India. He talked gently and softly, but with purpose. Of the players I’ve seen, only Shane Warne and Graeme Smith have been as magnetic. When Ganguly enters a room I’m drawn to him and even when he’s said nothing of real interest, I’ve been entertained. During the times when he’s sniped and picked and teased it’s been even better.

Before the start of this series he was defending his form and was reported by a Bengali newspaper to have complained “every Tom, Dick and Harry is playing for India”. For two days he let the story run before issuing a denial. Off the field he was equally good at playing games and scoring points. I will miss Ganguly for his entertainment and his spice. With each year more characters leave the game and as public life becomes increasingly sanitised, I wonder if they can be replaced by the next generation of media-managed clones.

Seven Ganguly's moments

Seven Ganguly moments

Hello, Lord's to farewell, lads

November 10, 2008

	Sourav Ganguly gets a hundred on debut © Getty Images

Debut dance
It's his Test debut, and he is believed to be a political selection for the tour to England, a perception he puts paid to in seven-and-a-half hours of blissful batting. The image - Ganguly celebrating, arms aloft, no brashness of the later days, and Rahul Dravid applauding him in the background - is enduring: the wait has finally ended; the boy who persistently called newspaper offices for four years to see if he is in the team has arrived.

That don't impress me much
In 2000-01 Australia are a world-beating team with 15 straight wins behind them and are at the final stop on their conquest. One man is not impressed. "They have won most of their games at home, beaten West Indies 5-0 at home, beaten India, Pakistan at home," Ganguly welcomes Australia. "They toured here in '96 and lost. They toured here in '98 and lost. So obviously that's going to be at the back of their mind." No awe here. If that doesn't rile Australia, Ganguly goes further during the series. He walks out late for the toss and, if he wins it, he walks off on his own after letting the TV interviewer know what India choose to do. Once, after being pulled up by Cammie Smith, the match referee, he turns up five minutes before the toss - in his tracksuit top. "You had to give him an 'A' for effort in his attempt to annoy us," Steve Waugh writes in his book, "and in particular me. It worked to a certain extent."

Doing the HQ
Indians, not the least Bengalis, are supposed to be studious, meek, wristy, oriental artists. They are not supposed to make opposition captains wait at the toss, make fielders tie their shoelaces and, worst of all, sledge. There the Indian captain is, at Lord's, no less, waving the shirt he wore a moment ago, shouting four-letter words again and again. With Ganguly, India's aggression goes naked, one of the turning points in the nation's cricketing history.

Surviving the Gabbatoir
He sweeps Stuart MacGill just wide of fine leg, runs very hard to convert what is for him an easy one into two, leaps twice in elation, almost trips over, pumps the air, holds his arms aloft and, without uttering a word tells every Australian that he enjoyed the "sweet chin music". This is the Gabba, and the year is 2003. Not only the Australian team, the whole nation, it seems, is after him, and this is test of the captain's mettle. The innings has it all - urgency, emotion, disdain - and sets the pace for the series.

Refusal to die
Only about a couple of hundred have come to watch him play a Duleep Trophy match in Rajkot. The email has already been leaked, his integrity questioned. On the surface he has been left out on fitness grounds, but the writing is on the wall. The North Zone attack - VRV Singh, Gagandeep Singh, Amit Mishra and Sarandeep Singh - does not sound intimidating, but on a greenish Rajtok track they are a handful. He comes in to bat on the second day, his team struggling at 54 for 3, and then at 59 for 4. In the short period before stumps, he is hit on the head by VRV. A different Ganguly appears the next day: he is sure, and he is aggressive. He plays all his shots, including the one where he makes room and slashes over point, a shot he usually employed in one-dayers. By the time he finished he had scored 117 off 143, and sent across the message that he should be playing somewhere else.

One for himself
The one word that describes the Ganguly who has made a comeback to the Indian side is serene. Almost monk-like, he goes about his business - fields mostly at the fine-leg boundary, bowls a few overs, and bats with utmost calm. No more shirt flinging, no more nail biting on the field. His last century, in Mohali, is one such effort. A century is almost inevitable from the moment he joins Sachin Tendulkar at the crease. Upon reaching the landmark, he doesn't react extravagantly, despite the drama behind his comeback to the side, he just smiles to himself, pumps the air, and gets on with it.

'Just one last thing lads'
Does he choke for a brief second? After he says "Just one last thing lads" and before he drops the bomb. He does pause, for sure. Is he collecting himself? Does he wait to make sure words will come out? Once he has said what he has said, you are too stunned to think what has happened in that split-second. "Before I leave, I just want to say that this is going to be my last series. I've decided to quit. I told my team-mates before coming here." And the lads don't have a word to say. They look at him, they look at each other, they look down. The announcement is all Ganguly: he comes in late for the press conference, he is mildly humorous, takes all questions in good spirit, and waits for the media coordinator to end the conference before catching everyone off guard.

'I want to cherish this for a long period'

India v Australia, 4th Test, Nagpur, 5th day

'I want to cherish this for a long period'

November 10, 2008

	Sourav Ganguly: "I was disappointed with the 85 I got. I was so close to getting a hundred. That was more disappointing than the first-ball duck" © AFP

Speaking after his final day of international cricket, Sourav Ganguly has said his most significant contribution was to raise the image of Indian cricket by building a team that was competitive overseas.

"During the phase from 2000 to 2005 [when he was captain], and it's still going on now, Indian cricket's image has gone up immensely, especially while touring," Ganguly said. "We were always termed as soft when we travelled. I think that has changed considerably. At the present moment India are a formidable side home and away.

"I was lucky to have Sachin [Tendulkar], Rahul [Dravid], VVS Laxman, Anil [Kumble], [Virender] Sehwag and Harbhajan [Singh] probably playing their best cricket at that stage. We've always been a strong team at home. The overseas results I'll always cherish."

Under Ganguly's captaincy, which began in November 2000, India won 11 Tests overseas including matches in Sri Lanka, West Indies, England, Australia and Pakistan. India's success abroad has continued even after Ganguly's tenure ended but he felt that the challenge for Mahendra Singh Dhoni's team now would be to continue winning after the retirements of key players. However, he felt Dhoni would be up to the task.

"Captaincy is a spark, it's not just preparation or the homework, it's about the spark on the field, which MS [Dhoni] has," Ganguly said. "He's got that extra bit of luck which you require in captaincy. I have never believed too much in the drawing board. I see a lot of that in MS Dhoni. He doesn't believe much in team meetings and all. He just does what he sees on the field. He will be tested when India goes overseas and I'm sure he will live up to it."

There was a lovely moment during the final passage of the Nagpur Test when Dhoni handed over the captaincy to Ganguly for some time. It was a magnificent gesture and fittingly, it was exactly eight years to the day since Ganguly had begun his tenure as captain in 2005.

"I didn't expect MS to ask me to captain the side for five overs," Ganguly said. "I was already switched off, so he woke me up. I didn't know what was happening the first six-seven balls. Luckily they were nine down so I managed to do it for three and then said it's his job, not mine any more."

What next? Sourav Ganguly had left international cricket and several people wanted to know what he was going to do in the future. Will you become a commentator? Will you write an autobiography? Ganguly answered each of those questions by saying he wanted some time off. "Commentary means travelling all the time," he said. "I don't think I'm ready yet. I've got other things to do at home. I've been on the road for 13 years. "It [an autobiography] takes a lot of time and patience. I don't know whether I have the patience. I'll take some time off and then take it from there."

Ganguly had been under tremendous scrutiny before the start of this series and his place in the squad was uncertain after he was left out of the Rest of India squad for the Irani Trophy. However, he was named in the 15-man squad and he announced his retirement before the series began. Ganguly made valuable contributions during his final series, steering India to safety in Bangalore, scoring a century in Mohali, and 85 in the first innings of the Nagpur Test. He finished the series with 324 runs at an average of 54 and India regained the Border-Gavaskar Trophy.

"We've beaten the best team in the world 2-0," he said. "I've played well, the team's played well. There were lot of doubts after we came back from Sri Lanka. The way this Test match finished … it's probably one of the best finishes I've seen in terms of a team performance. I want to cherish this for a long period. I could easily sacrifice ten to 12 Tests for this."

When asked which of the numerous series that he's been involved in was the most memorable, Ganguly thought for a moment before picking out two of India's best moments in this century: the 2000-01 home victory against Australia and the drawn series in Australia in 2003-04.

Was he disappointed with his first-ball duck his final innings? "I was disappointed with the 85 I got," Ganguly said. "I was so close to getting a hundred. That was more disappointing than the first-ball duck."

Ganguly left a Test venue as an Indian cricketer for the final time on the shoulders of Harbhajan Singh and VVS Laxman but the dramatic scenes that played out after Kumble's announcement in Delhi were absent. "This is my time to leave," he said, and he went quietly.