Goodbye Roger, Goodbye Jhulan

Why do we watch sport?

Sure, it appeals to our gladiatorial instincts, to see human beings go at each other, to engage in ‘war minus the shooting’. It spurs that tribal itch of partisanship that is hard-coded into our DNA - taking sides, supporting one versus the other.

But there’s more. We watch sport because it is a celebration of the excellence of the human form. We celebrate sport because, unlike other acts of aggression, this one has no negative consequences. At the end of the day, the winner helps the vanquished get up on their feet, they dust themselves off and go home, promising to come back stronger the next time.

This weekend, two legends in their respective sports took the field for the final time. Two remarkable careers ended, albeit in significantly different manners.

We have spent the better part of the last two decades marvelling at Roger Federer for imbuing tennis with excellence and beauty simultaneously. For becoming the best, while also being incredibly graceful, even as tennis became increasingly physical. Slam count aside, it was this singular aspect of his game that made Federer the indisputable G.O.A.T.

Federer’s playing years were all about his ascension to the God level. How beautiful then that his last bow will be remembered for him proudly embracing his human-ness. Farewells have always been about the individual, but here was Federer - bidding goodbye, alongside his family, fraternity and fans, and with hands clasped firmly with his fiercest rival, both grown men bawling their hearts out.

Who among us was not inspired by that sight! Thank you, Roger, for having the grace and the vulnerability to invite your bitterest adversary, and simultaneously your biggest friend, to share that moment with you. And thanks, too, to Rafa, who dropped everything - temporarily leaving the side of his wife in the middle of a complicated first pregnancy - to be there for Roger, support him and cheer him off.

It felt like at some stage in the last 15 years of their storied rivalry, their souls intertwined. Both Roger and Rafa perhaps realise there is no other individual out there who understands their journey better. Until now, they needed each other to spur themselves to become their best versions. And from now, they will need each other to share notes on how to live their lives without tennis in it. After all, Rafa’s playing days are coming to an end too. It's a love that goes both ways, and it is so precious. It is the spirit of sportsmanship at its most elevated.

A few miles away from the O2 Arena in London where Roger bid his goodbye, is the Home of Cricket. At Lord’s on Sunday, there was another beautiful farewell in store for us. When Jhulan Goswami made her international debut in 2002, there were no smartphones. Heck, the internet as we know it did not exist. Barack Obama was still a Senator in Illinois. Sourav Ganguly had not yet bared his hairy chest from atop the Lord’s balcony. It’s fair to say it was a different era, but it was also a different universe as far as women’s cricket was concerned.

Twenty years on, after having delivered 13,592 balls and picked up 355 wickets for India, Jhulan was playing her final game, and what a game it was turning into. She steamed in with just as much purpose as verve as she did all those years back, striving for that one final wicket that would close out the win, and seal a historic 3-0 whitewash in England.

Jhulan Goswami bowled the last ODI over of her career at Lord's this weekend.

The wicket came finally, well after Jhulan had bowled out. Deepti Sharma caught Charlie Dean gaining yards at the non-striker’s end, and ran her out before delivering the ball. A run out to seal a memorable win, a historic series, and a waltz into the sunset for Jhulan - the stuff of dreams.

But no - the Spirit of Cricket brigade had not yet spoken. They emerged immediately - Nasser Hussain and other English commentators on air, an army of experts on social media ranging from two-bit rabble-rousers, to that exemplar of on-field behaviour, Stuart Broad. “How could she have effected the Mankad? How brutal to leave the batter in tears, after getting her out in this underhand manner? Cry me a river, but whither, Spirit of Cricket?” Rage and outrage on Twitter. Ravichandran Ashwin began to trend!

What Deepti Sharma did was well within the Laws of cricket. And those Laws are quite distinct from the Spirit of Cricket, which is an unwritten set of vibes that exists in the minds of a select few. If it were written, it would deserve to be burned.

There should have been no chatter around the run out.

When Jhulan started playing for India, no one took Indian women’s cricket seriously. When Jhulan led India at the 2010 World T20 in West Indies, even the media corps didn’t bother covering her team, since they were all busy following M.S. Dhoni’s men who were playing simultaneously. The men failed to cross the Super Sixes, and on cue the media began hounding a bemused Jhulan: “The boys have let us down. We hope at least you girls will bring home the Cup?” Women’s cricket was, literally and otherwise, an afterthought. A consolation prize.

Well, not anymore. Things are changing, albeit slowly, though from that baseline any progress is to be lauded. The women have come close to their own 1983 moment several times in the recent past. They were a game away from winning the 2017 World Cup, the 2020 World T20, and the 2022 Commonwealth Games. The Women’s IPL is finally on the BCCI’s agenda. And as the events following the run out have shown, people are watching, noticing and even getting outraged over things that happen in women’s cricket!

Jhulan had lived through every back-breaking step of this journey from obscurity to attention. In the heat of this fractious, if ultimately silly, moment, perhaps Jhulan reflected on this journey. And perhaps she had a smile on her face - after all these years, one wicket, one act of law-abiding bravery from her team-mate finally got her sport and her team the attention it deserved. And surely she was happy about ceding some of her limelight to her sport itself.

Much like Roger Federer, graciously sharing his intensely personal swansong moment with his biggest rival, and with all of us.