The graph of a cricketer’s life

In the last couple of years I haven’t been following cricket as closely as I earlier used to, but every once in a while something happens (a brilliant Lara or Gilchrist innings, a halfway decent knock by Sachin, a dominant performance by a team - usually Australia, latterly England) that gets my pulse racing again. Currently, that something is Steve Waugh’s wonderful autobiography Out of My Comfort Zone, the 700-odd pages of which I devoured in a day and a half.

One thing that struck me most forcefully about the book was that here is a man who has only just turned 40, and who might well have lived only half his life (or less) so far - and yet he has already published a mammoth, comprehensive memoir. If the subject of this autobiography had been a 40-year-old businessman, or actor, or a celebrity in almost any other profession, it would have seemed gratuitous and marketing-driven. But in Waugh’s case it doesn’t at all seem inappropriate. And this got me thinking about how peculiarly (and poignantly) skewed the trajectory of a top sportperson’s life is compared to that of most other people.

From a very early age, Waugh’s life centred around sports. In the book, with great feeling he recounts his early competitive bouts with twin Mark (including scooter-racing down the driveway), his decision to give up soccer in favour of cricket, an early dressing-down from Barry Richards who wanted him to cut out the big hits during a practice session. For years before he entered our collective consciousness in the mid-1980s, he was focusing his energies on becoming good enough to represent Australia. Then one day, two decades later, he played the last shot of his international career, watched the ball land in Tendulkar’s hands at square leg, and knew that his days as an international cricketer were over. And he was still only 38 years old.

Now I’m not for a moment suggesting that Waugh has already done all the most notable things of his life. He will probably go on to explore and find fulfilment in other areas of life now, discover talents that have hitherto been untapped, spend more time with his wife and children, and on social causes like Udayan. I’m sure he’ll continue to be involved with cricket too - as administrator, coach, or in some other capacity. But the point is, his star in the firmament has already been set. At a relatively young age, he has already accomplished everything he will be best remembered for at the end of his life.

So it is with most of the great athletes. They spend much of their early lives fine-tuning the qualities of body and mind that will take them to the zenith of their profession. These qualities are then showcased on an international arena for a few years, they learn everything there is to learn about celebrity and adulation in that period...and then, one day, it’s over. They are no longer good enough to do the thing that has (in most cases) been an obsession since childhood.

There’s something so scary about this. I’m a journalist, a profession that requires a certain set of skills - a talent for interviewing, reportage, writing and so on- and I keep trying to improve on these. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be told that these abilities have a sell-by date: that in 10 years from now, or even 5, I won’t be able to exercise them in a competitive arena. How strange it must be for a professional sportsperson to know these things. And consequently, how intense (and how rich) that relatively short period of their lives must be - every triumph and every disappointment must be accentuated to an extent that people in most other professions can only guess at.

P.S. For too many reasons for me to gush about here, the Waugh book is very highly recommended. I imagine most of the other contributors on this forum would already have read it or at least got their hands on it. If not, do so immediately - and that goes for readers too.