10,000 First Class runs, 100 games for Tamil Nadu: so what are the lessons for Abhinav Mukund? Getty
It has been a fantastic start to the decade for me, completing 100 games for Tamil Nadu. That I could cap it off with a hundred made the occasion a lot more memorable. A hundred in the 100th game is something I didn't imagine, and it became only sweeter with the milestone of 10,000 First Class runs coming in the next game. I guess all the stars were aligned in my favour. As I sit back and reflect, it dawns upon me that I've spent more than a whole year cumulatively (400 days) on the field for my state and this includes only the Ranji Trophy. Let's not even get started on the other formats and the training sessions that go with it. Just like many other cricketers, I have devoted my entire life to sport. What has it taught me though?
Thirty-year-old me now looks back at my 10-year-old self. Hah! If only I knew. I was just one among many, carrying multiple bags to school everyday not because I wanted to but because I had to. The most exciting part was the final bell where I could just run out to the ground and do what I loved the most. Don't get me wrong, I was a good student but I would always study to get marks and not to gain knowledge. This is where, I feel, my application of education to sport let me down. What my textbooks read just wasn't relatable.
We were once playing the league stages of a domestic tournament and in one of the training sessions our captain was yelling out instructions to a couple of our finishers. The target was simple - 6 overs and 65-odd runs to get, simulating a close finish. The batsman would just keep slogging every ball and eventually succumb to the pressure resulting in his wicket. Our captain went up to him and said, "You don't have to slog every ball, just break it down as balls/runs." Somehow it just got a lot easier for him after that. But there was a small problem; it was taking him longer to calculate the maths on the go. It was easier for him to hit huge sixes than to solve maths in the middle. I thought to myself, maybe that's why M.S. Dhoni is such a calculative, complete finisher.
However, this practice came in handy for us as a team when the batsman in question finished off a game single-handedly in a crucial knockout game. The twist in the tale was that we were running drinks once in two overs not because he needed it, but so that we could break down the balls to runs ratio for him. The hitting that followed was something special.
This was such an eye-opener for me. Was it a question of him just being bad at maths or was it a case of our schooling system letting him down? Shouldn't he have been armed with the ability to apply basic maths to such a basic scenario? A viral video of a teacher making 9X tables easier caught my attention recently. I couldn't help thinking about how much this could have helped us. The importance of PT periods at school and incorporating a basic maths lesson while playing could help make learning complete and fun.
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Coming back to me, most of my life lessons have come from our beautiful sport. But shouldn't at least a portion of it have come from the education system that we all so thrive on as kids?
As a 17-year-old, I was colleagues with a team of adults, many even a decade older than me. Was I prepared for it? I don't know. I quickly realized that silence or nonparticipation was the best way for me to deal with team conversations. I really wasn't being myself but I managed to get through.
However, silence isn't always the answer to everything, especially when you hit the spotlight. I was suddenly facing a swarm of cameras and journalists in my first press conference. I hadn't even addressed my class at school and here I was addressing a gathering of adults. I definitely wasn't prepared. I could comfortably recite a mugged-up Robert Frost poem or even quote a few lines of Shakespeare, but that's where the learning from my language class ended. To be articulate while addressing the media was definitely a struggle, to the extent that I am convinced that all cricketers should be allowed to be part of a mock press conference before participating in a real one so as to prepare for that intimidating setting.
It's not just about language and communication. There are so many lessons from school that could have been associated with what I loved doing. We just fail to look at it that way. The photosynthesis test, for example, ended with seeing how plants grow in light and darkness. And of course there was the study of crops and the conditions they grew in. It ended with a five-mark gain in one exam.
I wish it were more.
I have played in multiple venues across India, each with a different pitch and outfield. You travel west, there is nice red soil which gives you extra bounce initially and can assist spin later in the game. Go east and you will find black soil, if left devoid of grass you could have the ball end up shooting ankle-high. Go somewhere north, you will find a mix of both. In winters, a pitch laden with fresh grass could be a nightmare for us openers. How I wish I could read pitches better!
Why couldn't our education system have been vocational enough to give someone like me the opportunity to learn more about a subject that I was interested in, and one that would have been so handy as a future cricketer at the highest level. I would be far better equipped to read and play on alien pitches.
I was probably the only cricketer in my batch from Tamil Nadu to play for the country; Not all of us are lucky to make the cut. Getty
I hail from a Tamil speaking, education-driven South Indian family. I was naturally enrolled in Hindi classes. Don't even get me started on these Prathmiks and Madhyamas! I doubt anyone up north has attended these classes but it was such a common thing for many of us growing up in the south. Naturally, after completing three levels of exams, I thought I was well versed in Hindi, but I was in for a shocker. During one of my first stints at the NCA, my roommate was a bowler from Delhi. He obviously didn't understand the head or tail of Tamil, and his English was left a lot to be desired. Much like my Hindi. We spent 45 days together in the same room and it was such a struggle with my broken Hindi and his broken English. Eventually, we grew to teach each other these languages and it was a far greater learning than any of those exams I took. He remains one of my good friends to date.
A cricketer today needs to understand how to make invoices, pay taxes, deal with agents, read clauses in their contracts and obviously deal with social media. I don't think many of us are equipped to do all of that but we are criticized if we happen to slip up anywhere. It's not easy. So the next time you see one of us slip up and are quoted in the media, remember we deal with these non-cricketing matters off the cuff and with zero training.
Not all of us are lucky to make the cut; I was probably the only cricketer in my batch from Tamil Nadu to play for the country. With so much emphasis on making it, failing to do so has led so many into mundane 9 to 5 jobs out of force. But what about us whose careers will inevitably come to a close, with nearly half our lives still left? Shouldn't there be a system where we are let to develop other skills and talents, which might augur well for those of us who don't get into the more obvious post-retirement fields of commentary or coaching? As it stands though, our education system is quite stringent, and it does not allow us the opportunity to learn while we play and I so wish that would change.
What is it that we want to get out of education? Is it a race for marks or developing a love for learning and applying it to a field of your choice? Proficiency in math could make you a statistician or an analyst. Proficiency in science could make you a physical trainer, physiotherapist, nutritionist, a mental health expert or even a curator. Proficiency in language could make you a broadcaster, journalist or a media manager. There are multiple opportunities;
I just wish there were better ways to facilitate them.
Playing sport can be uncertain. You may have to deal with injuries and non-selections. You could face a lot of pressure from your family or peers to 'settle down' or even force yourself into a desk job. But it's not just about the 22 yards, there is a lot more waiting to be explored. Playing cricket is just one of them.
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