What does a champion do when applause turns into scrutiny? This excerpt from The Unbecoming traces the moment when outer mastery gives way to inner disquiet.
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Siddharth Kapoor, once hailed as a legend in the world of cricket for his impeccable batting record, now found his fame fading fast. His batting average stood at an impressive 60 per cent, having scored an astonishing 10,000 One-Day International runs in a mere 203 innings—the fastest in the history of cricket.
Yet, the last two series witnessed the decline of this cricketing legend, who over his distinguished decadelong international career had exultantly scored thirtyfive centuries. His unease in facing a delivery that moved away from him was laid bare for his opponents to exploit. It had been a major worry for both his team and his coach.
To surmount this challenge, he devoted a substantial amount of time practising and yet, more than his skill, it was the tumultuous state of his mind that encumbered him. Despite his reluctance to concede this handicap, deep within, he was aware of this truth.
Still, he was grappling with the fact that for a player of his calibre, something elementary could become an obstacle, especially when it used to be his strength. In the last five innings, he repeatedly got out on short-of-a-length balls swinging away from him, deliveries he was once brilliant at playing. Convinced that it had always been his forte, Siddharth couldn’t resist the urge to go after those short-pitched deliveries. It was agonizing for him to let go.
An eerie silence enveloped the room as the air felt oppressively heavy. The only sound that filled the entire room came from the television. Siddharth’s whole attention was fixed on the hosts’ words, while he aimlessly fiddled with an empty glass in his hand.
The media was making the matters worse for him ‘Siddharth Kapoor’s poor form a worry as India look to restore parity in the World Cup’. ‘Time for team India to look for a new opening batsman’, the television anchor mercilessly pounded Siddharth for his lacklustre performance, detailing his three consecutive dismissals in the World Cup.
This further stressed the atmosphere of the hotel room, where Shraddha and Siddharth were having dinner. ‘Shall I switch off the television?’ Shraddha asked. ‘No, let it be,’ Siddharth replied resignedly. ‘No matter how much you contribute to your country and the sport, one bad phase obliterates it all; they make you look like a cipher,’ murmured a chagrined Siddharth, his eyes tearing up, voice heavy.
‘You are a star, Siddharth, I know it, and your loyal fans know it too. It’s just a matter of time before you bounce back. You have no idea how much you are loved by this nation. People understand that the media spice up the story for their TRPs. You shouldn’t let this get to you,’ Shraddha comforted Siddharth.
‘It’s not fair, Shraddha,’ Siddharth protested, frustration etched in his voice. ‘The media is painting me as if I’m already history. They have no idea who I am or what I’m capable of. No one of my calibre should be treated this way. To tell you the truth, these remarks are taken quite seriously, and have often influenced selectors’ opinions.
I am eagerly waiting to get back in form. It would be a befitting reply to my critics. Until recently, they considered me the best batsman in the history of this sport, and now, in the blink of an eye, I am not good enough! Such theatrics, right, Shraddha?’ Siddharth awaited validation from her.
Shraddha looked into his eyes. She could see that he was blinded by his ego, and that his entire focus was on proving himself to the world instead of bettering his game. His low self-esteem was palpable. She could sense that his confidence was shaken. Although she wanted to make him see his folly, she considered it best not to confront him, as he seemed emotionally fragile.
She reckoned that someone with a nuanced understanding of the game could counsel him better. ‘Yes, Siddharth, you are right. Please don’t take this criticism seriously,’ Shraddha concurred reassuringly. ‘You’ve silenced your critics on numerous occasions,’ Shraddha said embracing him from behind.
These emotions were not atypical of Siddharth who, apart from his batting genius, had a controversial cricketing career marked by premarital affairs, verbal spats with colleagues, journalists, anchors and senior players and a fallout with his childhood coach had occasioned a lot of negative media attention. In fact, it was his colourful personality that made him a darling of the media.
Siddharth soon realized that merely hours of practice were not enough; he needed something else.
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