VVS Laxman, known for his elegant and wristy batting, has just penned his autobiography. Titled ‘281 and Beyond’ after his momentous knock, the book also gives insights into his teammates. Excerpts:
First, a confession. I am an unabashed admirer of Viru. Actually, make that two confessions. When I first saw him bat, I didn’t think he had it in him to be consistently successful at the highest level.
Viru’s unique talent expressed itself during the 2001 ODI series against Australia. In the first match in Bangalore, he blasted 58, took three wickets with his off-spin, and was the man of the match. The night before the Pune match, we had gone out for dinner —Viru, Zak and I. Out of the blue, Viru told me, ‘Laxman bhai, you had a great opportunity to make a triple hundred in the Kolkata Test, but unfortunately, you didn’t. Now you wait and watch, I will become the first Indian to score 300 in Test cricket.’
My jaw dropped and I stared at him in astonishment. This guy had played just four ODIs, wasn’t anywhere close to Test selection, and here he was, making the most outrageous of claims. For a second, I thought he was joking, but Viru was dead serious. To be honest, I didn’t know what to make of it.
Viru’s preparation was unlike anything the rest of us did. He kept things to a bare minimum. I have never seen him over-prepare. He would bat in the nets, take his quota of catches, and then retire to the dressing room — no extra throw-downs, no additional knocking. He semi-mocked us: ‘You must play more balls in the match, not at practice.’ You can’t argue with that logic, not when it worked so often for him.
After the Multan triple hundred, he came up to me and laughed, ‘I told you so, VVS.’ I couldn’t have been happier that my 281 had been surpassed. For a country that had given the world so many great batsmen, not having a triple centurion was an aberration. Viru set that record straight. It had taken him less than three years to translate his prophecy into reality. I was curious to know where he had got the confidence from to make that prediction in Pune. ‘In order to get to a triple, you have to score very quickly, VVS,’ he explained, as if to a child. ‘You need to play a lot of shots and get your runs very quickly. In this Indian team, I didn’t see anyone else doing that.’ It was said not with arrogance, but from an understanding of his game and inherent intelligence. He knew that he had a better chance than anyone else of getting to 300 because of the nature of his game, high-risk but also high-reward, as the records indicate.
When Dhoni drove a bus and VVS retired unhurt
MS Dhoni’s calmness and equanimity are legendary. He had seen nothing but success until the tour of England in 2011. We had lost 4–0 in England and had already lost the first three Tests in Australia by the end of that year, and were heading for another whitewash. I was a mess, as were most of the guys, but MS was unbelievably composed. Not once did he lash out, and at no stage did he give the impression that he was frustrated or helpless. I prided myself on being level-headed, but MS took it to another level when he said, ‘Lachi bhai, what is the point of feeling dejected and depressed? All it will do is harm your performance even more.’
One of my abiding memories is of MS driving the team bus to the hotel in Nagpur, during my 100th Test. I couldn’t believe my eyes — the captain of the team driving us back from the ground! It was his first Test in charge after Anil’s (Kumble) retirement, and he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. But he was like that, playful and grounded.
MS never lost the joy, the playfulness. I have never met anyone quite like him. His room was open to all when he first came into the squad, and even during my last Test, by which time he was already one of India’s most successful captains, he didn’t shut the door until it was time for him to hit the bed.
After I informed the media of my decision to retire, the questions flowed. ‘Have you informed your teammates?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Have you spoken to Dhoni, what did he have to say?’
‘Everyone knows how difficult it is to reach Dhoni,’ I joked. Little did I realise that this would trigger the first and only controversy of my cricketing career.
I had unwittingly provided fodder to the media, who started to speculate that I had retired in a huff because MS and I had differences, that there was a rift between us. It wasn’t funny at the time, but one of the headlines the following day read, ‘VVS, retired hurt'.
I waited for the end of the Test and then went to the hotel to thank every teammate and member of the support staff individually. When I met MS, he took one look at me and burst out laughing. ‘Laxman bhai, you are not used to all these controversies, but I am. Don’t take this to heart. We all know that sometimes, facts need not come in the way of a good story.’ I was once again struck by his maturity, his simplicity, and how easily he had put me at ease.
Even today, despite repeated denials, people tell me — not ask, but tell — that I retired because of MS. I have learnt not to be affected by it anymore.
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