What Sanga means to me

I thought writing an article celebrating Kumar Sangakkara would come easily to me. I have long been a fan, and have spent countless hours arguing with detractors. Yet when it actually came to the writing, I realised that I kept writing about myself.

There is a concept in literature of the author surrogate - a character based on the author, an amateurish indulgence that prioritises the author's own fantasies over the duty to write well. Once, during an argument with a famous Sanga-skeptic, I realised that much of what I saw in the player was a projection of my own fantasies - he had become my author surrogate. So if you will excuse the indulgence, I need to explain myself in order to explain what Sangakkara means to me.

I have always identified as what is referred to as a "geek" in the parlance of my times: always watching and obsessing over cricket, though I could never play it well. But every night, the humiliations of my athletic inabilities would be exorcised in the fantasies I would construct before nodding off to sleep. In these scenarios, not only was I the handsome and prolific allrounder-captain, but also incredibly witty and politically aware. In these quasi-dreams I didn't just play well, but played well with context. My exploits were always set in important matches and difficult conditions.

For me, Sangakkara is not an invincible deity but rather the ephemeral, magical stuff that dreams are made of

One doesn't need a degree in psychology to understand why a geeky non-athlete would imagine such things. But at some point over the past decade, it felt like these projections had become flesh and blood in the form of Sangakkara.

The first thing is his stats, which have at times breached the stratosphere untouched by batsmen since Bradman retired. What sets Sanga apart in this age of inflated batting averages is the context of his runs. His big scores in Australia and hundreds away in South Africa and England meant that he banished the "yeah, but…" that often accompanies discussions on Asian batsmen.

It was a similar story in the shorter formats, where Sanga always made his presence felt when the world was watching. He ended his four World Cups with an average touching 57 in the tournament, and the third-highest aggregate of all time. His lowest score in the four ICC tournament finals he played was 48, and after a hat-trick of defeats he also made sure that the last of these was a winning knock. It was almost as if he was consciously ticking off the (oft-arbitrary) standards that cricket fans set to determine greatness.

Indeed, as he kept reeling off hundreds in his final World Cup, there was almost an obscenity to how prolific he was. If I'm honest, while those big runs mattered, they were not at the heart of Sanga's appeal for me. Instead, it's his mind that I found myself relating to.

For starters, geeks like me resent those more athletically gifted than us and want to prove our (assumed) intellectual superiority over them. Since cricket is a sport that celebrates sledging like few others, there is plenty of opportunity to use a sabre-like wit as a genuine sporting play. The only useful purpose I ever had on a cricket field was an ability to "mentally disintegrate" opponents, and it's something Sanga excels at. Those snipes at Shaun Pollock have confirmed his place in the game's folklore, but it's not his only style. He's also delightfully irritating in constant microaggressions, aggravating opponents and spectators alike.

There are those that feel that such actions have no place in the field, and I would agree that this sort of behaviour is not necessarily wise. But for me at least, it's a chance for the smart guy to make the jocks look like fools. I don't know if Sanga means it the same way, but I've always derived a lot of pleasure from it.

It can't be denied, though, that quite a few other players might have been called louts for doing what Sanga does. The reason he seems to get away with it is because, along with being a great player and good-looking, his intelligence extends beyond the field. While most players barely understand any politics outside of the dressing room, Sanga has a marvellously nuanced and intelligent view of his own society's politics and those of the larger world.

The epitome of that awareness was when he delivered his Spirit of Cricket lecture. What I loved most about that speech was that he articulated a defiantly proud vision of his country and its cricket. He expanded the very definition of the spirit of cricket, so that it could move beyond the small etiquettes that phrase is associated with and be seen through the game's sociopolitical impact.

For many people, the coming together of so many talents and an elevated sense of self can be a turn off, and it's telling that many of Sanga's fans are those shrill, thin-skinned types who brook no dissent of their idol. I like to tell myself that they're only attracted by the shiny baubles of his stats and the cut of his handsome face.

Because for me, Sangakkara is not an invincible deity, but rather the ephemeral, magical stuff that dreams are made of.

Thanks for living out this geek's fantasy.