Tendulkar runs the gamut between journeyman and genius

Under the shadow of Lumley Castle stood Sachin Tendulkar, not out 105. And there, clearly visible under the neck of his blue No10 shirt, was two inches of white cotton vest, the ancient sweat-stained uniform of the working man.

And there was a time yesterday when Tendulkar looked not only blue-collar but to be operating out of a creaking old Cortina. He played and missed at Andrew Flintoff twice in the same over, and played the junior, out-of-tune partner to Rahul Dravid.

He changed his bat, fiddled with his grip. He was scoring with a tinker there, a tap there, contenting himself with a swift scamper and the odd twitch of his neck at the non-striker's end.

Sometimes, as he walks out, England have faced him as a solid wall, like a bravado rugby side against the haka. But yesterday they just scattered, seemingly indifferent to his presence. Perhaps they were fondly remembering that in his previous 21 one-day interna tionals against England he had never scored a century.

At times the police seemed more aware of his potential. Armed with video cameras and telephoto lenses, they hovered near the flag-clad Indian supporters as he approached his 50.

A polite announcement warned people not to run on the pitch. The big screen warned people not to run on the pitch. The supporters blew their bugles. But Sachin hovered, and still Sachin hovered, in the 40s for nearly 40 minutes.

He passed 50 with a squeezed single (and no one ran on the pitch) and barely looked up as he half-heartedly raised his bat. He seemed unlikely to be embraced by the North-east in the same way as Sir Bobby Robson, a life-long friend of Alec Stewart's family, who was being gently stroked in the hospitality boxes.

But as soon as the crowd had decided that two and two do not always make four, and the floodlights looked as if they would be lighting up something less than a gem, the shots started flowing. That perfect balance was back. The flow of the bat was a gentle violence, an adrenalin injection went through the crowd.

There were two inside-out woodcutter chops over extra cover for four. Then a reverse slog off Ashley Giles. Then a reverse-lap, a paddle with an upright back. A wristy two took him past 91, his previous highest score against England. Then, as he sat in the 90's, he swept from outside off stump, as a man disdainfully discards unwanted spinach which has found its way into his chow mien.

After smashing Yuvraj Singh's stumps at the non-striker's end with a vicious drive, the 100 came with a misfield at long-off. A slightly less bashful acknowledgment now, and as he walked back to the pavilion, the camera staring him in the face, yet another record for yet another day.

· You've read the piece, now have your say. Email your comments, as sharp or as stupid as you like, to the sport.editor@guardianunlimited.co.uk.

© Guardian News & Media 2008
Published: 7/5/2002
 
Use the feedback form below to submit your comments.
Your Comments:
Your Name:
Use the form below to email this article to your friends.
Recipient Email Address:
 Separate multiple email addresses by ;
Your Name:
Your Email Address: