'The problem is there's still a big kid inside me who likes to have fun. I am passionate about my cricket, and I love my family, but I'm also a kid, and maybe I need to grow up... And maybe I don't. Life isn't a rehearsal; it's about having fun.'
His quote to GQ summed up his life. He did not grow up. He remained passionate about cricket. He had fun with batters all the time. And he cared for everything he loved.
Until his last breath, he probably even had fun in a lavish Thai villa. We shall never get to know the Shane Warne of old age. He was cricket's sheen. Some would instead call him our world's Charlie Sheen.
Turn on the wipers in your misty minds now. It took me many hours to make sense of it and discover clarity. More than 45. Yes, Shane Warne is dead.
In the university of cricket, Warne would be a course. Or perhaps an entire department. Great minds have captured his magnanimity with the finest of words. There are endless videos, images and anecdotes. Thus, when I sat to pen my words, I spent a few more hours gathering and arranging the flooded thoughts before I decided: let it be personal. Let it be about my personal account of the man who magnetised me to the sport.
First encounter: Sharjah 1994
At eight, my world revolved around He-Man, Tintin, Disney, WWE and Ninja Turtles. Cricket was gradually finding its place, a process that started two years earlier, during the 1992 World Cup. By 1994, my father had managed to convince me to at least watch the final overs of a cricket match.
I found heroes in Kapil Dev, Martin Crowe, Sachin Tendulkar, David Boon, Merv Hughes, Allan Border, Allan Donald, Brian Lara and Vinod Kambli.
Since Lara would create most of his magic at the most inconvenient hours in the life of a primary-school-goer, I would watch more of Kambli as I would be desperate to have a fellow left-handed batter as my role model.
Of course, I had heard about Warne. Baba would keep talking about the Mike Gatting dismissal they called Ball of the Century. I also faintly remember reading in the newspaper in 1992 about his spell in the Colombo Test match, where he cleaned up the Sri Lankan tail to etch an Australian win despite conceding almost a 300-run lead.
But I had not watched much of Warne before Kambli hammered him for two sixes and two fours in an over to help India complete a chase.
I do not recall what I thought about Warne then, but that is my first vivid memory of the legend.
The love affair
Before scripting history in the 1996 World Cup, Sri Lanka had travelled to Australia for a Test series and a triangular series. My love affair with Warne began during that tour. My father, who following that tour keenly, made me watch Warne bowl under the lights. I remember the final where he dismissed a free-flowing Arjuna Ranatunga, one of his three wickets, helping Australia win the tournament.
Then arrived the World Cup. Of course, I was rooting for India, but did not miss a single Australia match. I wanted to watch Warne and Mark Waugh. I have three abiding Warne memories from that tournament: his tight spell against India in Wankhede; the magical turnaround in Mohali against West Indies in the semi-final; and Ranatunga avenging him in the final.
I had been rooting for Australia in the final. That night, I went to bed sulking that my hero could not lift the cup. My support for Australia lasted until the 1999 World Cup, where he redeemed himself, etching one of the finest chapters in the game's history. By then, several Warne stickers and posters had infested my house, and even in the evenings, my cricket outings would involve a thick layer of Boroline under my lips.
Most young kids were drawn to the sport due to the batters. Irrespective of the age group, Warne filled stands and TRP meters with his leg-spin, an art incredibly tough to master.
The wannabe Warney
By 1997/98, the Warne-Tendulkar frenzy had caught us all. No rivalry created as much hype as Tendulkar's preparation against Warne ahead of the series. Tendulkar had asked former leg-spinner L. Sivaramakrishnan to bowl at him in the nets. Expecting Warne to come around the wicket, he had asked Sivaramakrishnan to do the same and bowl in the footmarks.
Dominating Warne in that tour is a part of folklores, but it was not an overnight success. Mastering the master needed skill and, of course, solid preparation. Tendulkar, being Tendulkar, could mesmerise the world by doing that.
By then, I was more into Tendulkar's preparation than Warne's, because the latter's acumen was at a different level to mine. But before that, I had my moment trying to become Warne.
Shocked, stunned & miserable…
— Sachin Tendulkar (@sachin_rt) March 4, 2022
Will miss you Warnie. There was never a dull moment with you around, on or off the field. Will always treasure our on field duels & off field banter. You always had a special place for India & Indians had a special place for you.
Gone too young! pic.twitter.com/219zIomwjB
I was primarily a left-handed batter who enjoyed bowling more. I could bowl with either hand, but right is my dominant arm.
It was the coolness of Mark Waugh between 1996 and early 1997 that I started with off-breaks with shades on. I then switched to medium pace after 1998 because of Sourav Ganguly and Shaun Pollock. Mid-1997 was a phase of struggle when I desperately tried leg-break. It took me months, a coach's ire, along with bruised thumb and little finger, to perfect Warne's action. Even when I perfected it, I would end up bowling googlies unintendedly.
We were as different as they made them when it came to melanin, blondness, body shape and, of course, skills. I copied his action, mannerisms, the cream under the lips and the intent, but that was where the similarities ended.
In the harsh winter mornings in Kalyani, I would wake up at five to watch Warne bowl at the South Africans and hear Richie Benaud's analysis of how he was setting up batters.
Warne made me develop this good habit of early mornings in 7-8 degrees Celsius. Watching Warne bowl while being wrapped in a blanket will forever remain among the most cherished memories.
In the same series, he came around the wicket and found the passage between Jacques Kallis' front pad and bat to strike off-stump and enter the 300-wicket club. That was the moment when I decided to give up leg-spin. I made peace with the terms that this man was a sorcerer, and this was some voodoo trick.
In my pre-teens, I was yet to learn the most powerful lesson from his skill-set – to never give up. A more mature me picked that part during the 1999 World Cup semi-final, where his belief in himself won it for Australia.
I should not have given up on leg-spin. Actually, I did not. I was still the Warne of my locality in the under-arm cricket circuit. Even in over-arm games, my strength remained leg-cutters at varying paces.
Baked beans, nah!
Warne later clarified that the tons of baked beans and spaghetti that arrived in India were not just for him. Back in the 1990s and 2000s, his love for baked beans made quite an exciting story. Of course, any Warne habit had to be cool.
In 2004, I eventually found some cans in a departmental store in Mumbai and tried them for breakfast. No, said my taste buds. I had to gift them away. Later I figured out that mine was not an isolated case.
The key here is the impact. Without endorsing a brand in a consumer-driven space like India, Warne made children look for baked beans in the land of curries, spices and pulses.
I had to build a dam inside my mind to stop the overflowing of thoughts when I saw fans paying respect to him, leaving beers and canned baked beans at the foot of his statue at the Melbourne Cricket Ground.
Warne, the man
Warne was (still coming in terms to use 'was') an opinionated and biased man. He never shied away from going overboard with favouritism or criticism. He would back those he loved. And he would be quick to admit his faults. Warne was flawed like most, but brutally honest. Between the mind and tongue, there were no veiled attempts.
When he lost the bet to Ganguly during the 2017 Champions Trophy, he honoured it by donning an England jersey for a day. In the world of pretence and translucency, Warne was real.
Even the notorious Barmy Army hoped Warne was an Englishman – for the tortures he inflicted on England. But would the gang exist if Warne was English?
His personal life was as private as tabloid headlines. I did follow them without caring or judging him on that. He made human mistakes, admitted them, moved on, and I had no issues until he lectured others on spirit or morality.
As any parent or son, his love for his family was apparent through conversations, stories and social media posts. Being a family man, I have lived through phases. It is difficult to push oneself in the professional space with a simultaneous storm on the personal front.
One takeaway from Warne's private life here is that while going through tumultuous phases on the personal front, he remained a top performer at the highest level in Test cricket, one of the most demanding competitive sports, with leg-spin, one of the toughest arts to master.
Read More: Beastliness of Life won't trample the genius of Shane Warne
As media professionals, we milked Warne's name for our benefit. Let us admit it. Warne got us eyeballs and traffic.
He was the best in his profession and mental disintegration (as Australians put it). He revolutionised wrist spin. He was brilliant enough to give the impression that he could have achieved even more. He was humble and extremely helpful to youngsters, enjoying the spotlight at the same time. He spoke his mind. He did what he loved.
At times, he was unapologetically flawed, and was the first to apologise if he realised his folly. He was almost universally loved and adored. These attributes made him a showman.
Throughout his stint in the public eye and the transition of dominant media from print to digital, Warne kept providing media with the fodder they needed and did so, not intending to do so.
The Fanboy
I started my professional journey when the inaugural Indian Premier League (IPL) hit us. A chunk of the excitement was due to the return of Warne the cricketer. He had an incredible brain, and we were all told that he was the finest captain to have never led Australia.
As the coach-cum-captain at Rajasthan Royals, he demonstrated what he could have done for Australia. Marshalling a young troop of primarily unknowns, Warne became the first captain to lift the IPL trophy. I made it a point to not miss a single RR match that season.
The genius with the ball eclipsed his effectiveness with bat. He was also an exceptional slip fielder. My favourite Warne moment from the 2008 IPL was his 9-ball 22 not out against Deccan Chargers in the chase of 215. Andrew Symonds had blasted a brutal hundred but resembled a fallen man at the end of it. With 17 required off the final over, Warne finished it with four and two sixes off Symonds, with a ball to spare.
Remember, at that point, Warne was finished as an international cricketer more than a year ago, while Symonds was one of the leading all-rounders in the world.
Seven years before that, it had really hurt when Warne missed a Test hundred by a run.
I did see him in a few press conferences and launches during the IPL, but the closest I came to Warne was on 1 June 2008. I ensured my last working day at Times of India was on 31 May to ensure I could watch the final with my parents at the DY Patil Stadium the next day.
Earlier that day, I was in South Mumbai for my IELTS exams. The Royals bus left the ITC Grand Central in Parel at around the same time I was driving back to Navi Mumbai. The giant windows of the bus allowed me a full view of Warne. I waved at him. He laughed and waved back. Our vehicles drove parallel for a while. My parents signalled 'all the best' to him, and he obliged with waves and a series of namastes.
A couple of hours later, he stood at the podium with the first IPL trophy, and we were at the stands cheering. We felt that we were a part of his journey.
In the years to follow, supporting Melbourne Stars would be an obvious choice, and so was following the Cricket All-Stars.
***
Aren't superheroes immortals?
He remained the kid throughout, and took away a chunk of my childhood as he departed, just like he did for many others.
The abruptness of the event leads to disbelief. He had done so much for the sport, his family, and even the paps and tabloids. The earth will continue to spin, but it will not be the same without Warne. Time and again, we are hit by the realisation of how fragile life is.
Be thankful to YouTube and other AV resources. Let it dawn upon you that you will never hear that laughter again. He will never tweet, post fitness goals, incite controversies, pen columns, commentate, take digs, help young spinners or share random XIs or 100s.
While I continue to struggle, I extend my heartfelt condolences to his family, friends and other grievers from our cricket community.
Will miss you, Shane.