Atreyo Mukhopadhyay
Being a sports reporter can at times give someone a chance to see something unfold — with nobody watching — and then see that bloom into a spectacle in front of a global audience. It’s not about any ‘ah, I knew it’ feeling. Nor has it got anything to do with some sort of ‘I told you so’. Truth be told, it’s largely about the satisfaction of getting to observe something special from start to end.
In the 2006-07 domestic cricket season, a few Duleep Trophy matches took place at Eden Gardens. North Zone won the title. The knockout matches of the Cooch Behar Trophy were played in Kolkata at the same time. The Delhi U-19 team outplayed others thanks to two fast bowlers — Ishant Sharma and Pradeep Sangwan. The boys led by one Virat Kohli used to drop by at Eden Gardens, to see the stadium, and say ‘hello’ to their seniors from Delhi in the North Zone team. Ishant stood out for his lanky stature. Nobody noticed Kohli.
Delhi boys saw this coming
Just over a year later, the Kolkata Knight Riders were camping in the city ahead of the inaugural chapter of the Indian Premier League. Aakash Chopra was in the squad. He used to write a column for the newspaper I worked for. During a chat one day, asked about India prospects from Delhi, within the blink of an eye, Chopra said ‘Virat Kohli’. He had led India to the U-19 World Cup title earlier that year, but was still an unknown factor to the larger cricket audience.
I remember Chopra’s words. “We all expected Ishant to play for India, but didn’t know that it would happen so soon and he would do so well.” The fast bowler had just returned from a sensational tour of Australia, where he made short work of Ricky Ponting in the Perth Test won by India. He had already bagged a handsome deal with KKR. “But we know all along that Virat will play for India. There’s something about him. I can’t tell when but he will.”
Kohli made his debut in ODIs later that year and played five matches as opener with moderate returns. He made heads turn in the Vijay Hazare Trophy months later. The national one-day championship was set ablaze by the teenager, who made four centuries in seven matches, and finished more than 100 runs ahead of Tamil Nadu’s S Badrinath as the highest-scorer of the event.
Hyper-focused, fierce, even grim
There was a knockout match against Railways in Agartala, where Chopra and Kohli made unbeaten centuries. The youngster was not eye-catching in a conventional way. His batting had minimal flair. It was full of purpose and intent. There was something practical and vigorous in his approach. His intensity in training drills was hard to miss. He was pushing himself all the time and cursing himself if he sensed a dip. Everybody said this boy would do anything when it came to fitness.
Kohli was abnormally grim back then. Not that he wouldn’t smile or share jokes with teammates. But almost all the time, he would sport this dead-serious look on his face. It seemed from a distance that he was trying hard to cut himself off outside noise and remain focused on his work. At times, this looked like arrogance but that’s how it was. He had to be what he had to be in order to achieve what he wanted. Image maintenance was not the priority.
It feels unreal to think that this emphasis on training and fitness remained an inseparable Kohli trait. It was like his skin. He couldn’t discard it even if he wanted. An upcoming player working hard and chasing his dream is something. An established superstar enjoying the good things of life and still working harder is something else. Those who have seen Sachin Tendulkar batting at the nets know what focus means. To see Kohli’s love for fielding practice was a similarly unique experience.
Never done with fielding practice
In Hamilton, New Zealand, during the 2015 World Cup, the Indian team was about to wind up a practice session. The players had nets. Physical and fielding drills were already done. They were trudging off. That’s when Kohli proceeded towards the middle of the practice ground, with a member or two of the support staff. For about half an hour, it was fielding practice — mainly running in, picking up the ball and throwing the stumps down. This was after the rest of the team was done for the day.
In Pune, a few years later, before a Test against Australia, Kohli was throwing himself around to take catches during practice. Others didn’t seem that committed. Some of the former players, who were TV commentators in that series, said that players usually don’t go that hard in practice to reduce the risk of injuries. This didn’t apply to Kohli. He was running and diving. When he did that, that grim thing disappeared from his face. He would be smiling and celebrating animatedly after a catch or a direct hit. What one saw on TV was what he did for hours, away from the cameras.
That’s also a reporter’s privilege. To be able to see what is happening when nobody is tuned in. What the players do two days or one day before a match, or during a lazy afternoon in domestic cricket brought alive suddenly by a flurry of wickets, or what they think of themselves and their peers. Not everything makes headlines. There are events that make deep imprints and stay forever. Looking back at the end of a long day, that’s what you call satisfaction.