For almost two decades, first as a boy and now as a man, Sachin Tendulkar has played cricket with distinction and been for India its honourable champion.
In a sporting world of swollen egos, pouting stars, silly belligerence on the field, artless sledging, he has never undignified the adulation he has been given.
Somehow through it all, his riches, his deification, his life turned into an unending episode of reality TV, Tendulkar has maintained a sense of proportion. Except now some of us are losing ours.
Judgement of Tendulkar in recent times in some places has been hurried, harsh and disquietingly rude. He failed in the Test series against SRI LANKA and he is Endulkar, he the moment he scores a century in the one-dayer and he will be Tondulkar, a grand career glibly reduced to a slick headline.
But then this is the age of provocation, where some pundits confuse volume with wisdom, and cricket is turned from game into tamasha (commotion).
I BETTER SAY, "The season of Tendulkar is not yet over"
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