To make matters worse for me the first three wickets went down early. The fiery West Indian fast bowlers had sorted our frontline batting pretty quickly. I walked in and Marshall greeted the debutant in international cricket with a delivery that hit my pad.
It was an incoming delivery and I had completely missed the line. I was extremely lucky not to be given out. There was a huge appeal which got dismissed. Even today, I remain thankful to the umpire for his kindness even though I could not use it to my advantage.
My luck did not last long. Only Sachin stood out to score a fighting But even his brilliance could not stop our six-wicket defeat. I was not asked to send down a single over and with just one batting failure it was curtains down on my tour appearances.
Little did I know that the India counter would only open for me again after four long years of waiting. To be honest I felt as a player on that trip I was below the required level. But the experience of that visit made me come back as a better player. The team was reduced to fourteen. Vengsarkar, Hirwani, Pandit and I were on our way back home.
As I boarded the flight for India, all kinds of emotions coursed through me. Some of it was sadness — I had spent three long months in a country barely playing. I wondered if I would get such an opportunity again. But I also realized that I needed to get stronger mentally.
I had to improve my game to face top-quality fast bowling successfully. The tour had taught me what I needed to do to succeed against the toughest. It also highlighted a stark reality that in domestic cricket you may get two to three bad balls out of six which you can take advantage of.
In Test cricket you may not get that one ball and have to learn instead to score consistently against good balls. Confidence and ability were the key. I wanted to use all my experience gained in Australia to emerge as a better player.
My journey may not have been successful but then failure has always been the best teacher! It taught me a lot and I came back stronger. It was , the World Cup semi-final. As a spectator, I had never witnessed anything as nerve-racking as this. The crowd was getting extremely agitated with the fall of every Indian wicket. The emotions in the stadium were crazily high. The situation was completely out of hand. Match referee Clive Lloyd called off the game and declared Sri Lanka the winners.
Kambli, helmet in his hand, walked off the ground with tears in his eyes — a scene that was captured on television all over the cricketing world. I felt India had completely messed it up at the toss. Later, after I became captain, I realized that the decisions made on the cricket field by a captain are far more difficult than what a spectator like me, judging it from an upper-tier seat, could ever imagine.
I must confess while the patriotic part of me wanted India to win at any cost, the cricketer part was thinking otherwise. The team for Singapore and Sharjah was to be announced a few days later. To be honest, if the team had won at Kolkata and made it to the finals at Lahore I would not have fancied my chances. Finally the all-important day came. I was driving back home after a practice session at my club. In those days I had an old Maruti which my grandfather had gifted me when I passed out of college.
In Bengal at the time, facilities were fairly rudimentary. You had to rely upon the club to provide you with practice facilities once the state games got over. It was one of those typical practice afternoons. Except on this day I was impatient and edgy throughout the session. My mind was constantly wandering to the selection committee meeting in Mumbai. I knew I had a good chance to wear the Indian cap again after four long years in the wilderness.
My mind had already begun to leap ahead, just. A cold shiver went down my spine every time I thought about the meeting in Mumbai. I knew that I was so close to achieving my dreams and yet there was no guarantee that it would happen. Most of you will have had a similar experience at least once in your lives — when you know you are facing a crucial moment in your life, a break that could change everything. It is restlessness, nervousness, anxiety all rolled into one as you await the curtains to open, the red carpet to roll out.
The waiting was soon over. A journalist friend gave me the news — I had missed the bus again. There was complete silence in the car.
Only one thought was going through my head — will I ever get another opportunity? It was a horrible, sinking feeling. In such a hopeless situation you will have your parents as fellow travellers on your journey.
They will try to console you. Their love and affection will remain regardless. It is your inner voice that has to eventually prompt you to set the desperation aside and pull you up. You have to tell yourself that the sun will rise tomorrow, you will have another opportunity. Yes, you will struggle with deep disappointment, endless frustration. But one day those feelings will come back to help you, pushing you to get to the next level.
To get over this, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself, yes, I did lose yesterday, but my time will come. If you are a budding cricketer pack your equipment and make sure you get back to the place that provides the platform for recovery. That is, the cricket ground. Always remember, if you decide to allow your frustrations to rule, the next day will be even tougher. The world, moving at its own pace, barely cares about your sentiments.
I know it is easier said than done, but you will have to find a way to conquer the feeling of despondency. As I sit down to write this, I must admit I did exactly the opposite.
When I went to bed, I told myself that I was going to give training a miss the next day. The feeling of rejection was just too painful to swallow. The morning after was especially bad. India meanwhile went to play the tri-series. A dejected Sourav Ganguly once again sat in front of the TV trying to imagine how he would have performed in those match situations. The series finished soon and once again India fared badly. Well, hope raised its head again.
The England tour was next and I knew that there would be another opportunity to get selected. You go to college every day wanting her to arrive quickly. Some days she will be late. And on certain days the mother, much to your disappointment, will whisk her away to some unknown destination.
You will get angry. You will feel hopeless. You will feel low. But by the next morning, your patience will have renewed itself and you will be waiting at the college gate again. Here I have a suggestion for any youngster wanting to achieve big. The cycle of hope and despair can crush you. It will destroy your confidence temporarily. But you have to look at it positively. Look at it as an integral part of your journey to excellence. Trust me, not many people even get an opportunity to be part of this cycle.
It is not a bad position to be in. As for me I was constantly trying to tell myself to be positive, that my turn would come sooner or later. It was the day of the England tour selection and I was once again at the maidan. I got a hundred that day. Around four in the afternoon a journalist friend walked up to me to say that the team would be announced any minute.
This friend today works with me in my office and I still distinctly remember his reassuring second sentence. Apparently he had been tipped off by a selector. My expectation level was already high. Now it went up even further. I was trying to stay calm but how do you stay calm in such situations? I could hear my heart thumping. I could hardly stay still. It was an hour before the team was announced — and my name did figure in the list. I just kept smiling, not knowing what to do.
Should I call my father? Or my mother? Or just sit idle on the lawns of Eden Gardens? It was one of the best feelings of my life. Fellow players came up and congratulated me.
I went up and met Mr Jagmohan Dalmiya, an absolute father figure to me. I would not have reached so far without his unconditional support from a young age. He was very close to my father as well. I returned home in the same Maruti , this time in a completely different frame of mind. I had waited for four long, painful years and my joy knew no bounds.
When I reached home my mother immediately took me to the family prayer room. I come from a deeply religious family and my mother made sure that I thanked the Almighty first. I spent the day going through the motions of accepting congratulations, talking to family members and friends, but in my mind I was already boarding the flight to England, which was about a. I also took the time to thank a few people immediately. First, a gentleman called Arun Lal. I was always impressed with his personality and thinking and the way he motivated youngsters.
Arun had made it openly known that I was ready to play for the country and spoken enthusiastically about me to a few Indian seniors he was close to. Remember, we are talking about an India twenty-two years ago. There was no live telecast for Ranji matches. No YouTube. Hearing was believing.
Even before Sachin became Sachin, the Mumbai cricketers had started discussing him with players from other parts of the country. This is hugely helpful to a newcomer and Arun did that for me. I was also very grateful to Sambaran Banerjee, the selector from my zone. To make it to the team, the selector has to be solidly behind you. In Sambaran I was fortunate to have someone who fought for me and tried hard to make the other zonal selectors believe in my capability.
But they can create an atmosphere that will help you to perform. In that respect Sambaran was of great help. There had been controversy surrrounding my selection. Today, there would have been no escape. I would have been affected by all the negative news floating around. But with the quick departure to the United Kingdom I was mostly away from it all. I had been in and around London several times playing league cricket. My father made sure that every summer I went to England to further my cricketing education.
My respectable coach Debu Mitra, who I had looked up to since I was young, was completely in charge and handled all payments for me. I also had some family there who had become my immediate family of sorts. My kaka Animesh Mukherjee was my guardian in England and remains so till date. We share an amazing bond.
My daughter Sana considers him and kakima her grandparents. They were my second home, a relationship beyond words — there was so much care, love and affection. As a player I had huge success in England. It was as if my kaka was batting with me and my success suffused them with pride and joy. I still vividly remember the drive from Heathrow to our Central London hotel.
We were staying in a small hotel on Jermyn Street near Piccadilly. Sitting today in Kolkata I can tell you the exact location of the hotel — which turn to make from Piccadilly, exactly where the hotel was located on the narrow street.
I still remember what the coffee shop looked like. What the. Whenever I go to London I make it a point to walk past this hotel. I stand near its front gate and waves of nostalgia wash over me. I once took my daughter to the hotel. As we walked inside the front gate, hand in hand, she looked up to see me break into a big smile. Sana was a little surprised. By then she had already stayed in some of the best hotels in Central London and could not understand the fuss about this one.
She had grown up seeing a successful dad and also heard a few stories about his cricketing exploits. I smiled and said, Sanu, it all started from here.
As I mentioned earlier, the hotel was not a plush five-star. But despite all this, I have a deep sense of attachment with this simple little place. How can you lose touch with your origins? I guess every time I visit this place, there is an unmistakable glow on my face. She must have noticed it. Or me? I remember the Manchester hotel distinctly as well. It was in the heart of the city and to me remains as memorable as Cavendish Hotel on Jermyn Street.
The drive from Heathrow to Manchester had been very refreshing. The minute we had hit the motorway with its many exits and seen the countryside outside our bus window, I had felt at peace. This was altogether a different world, completely away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Ours was a day game which would begin at eleven. I had sausages, bacon, sandwiches, some juice and went to the counter for a second helping.
That is when I bumped into our captain. Azhar had been looking for me. We knew each other pretty well. Although he was a year junior, we had played Under 19 cricket together. As he settled down at the table just next to me, I quietly told him that I was batting at number 3 today. Dravid got up to get some juice.
I saw Azhar walking up and talking to him. So he could be playing as well. He came back and confirmed it. I asked what number. My gut, I told him, was that he would bat at number 6. Tendulkar would open with Vikram Rathore. Manjrekar would come at 4 and Azhar at 5. The conversation ended right there.
So did breakfast. After the brief encounter. In any case both of us had to get ready in the next fifteen minutes to board the team coach. There was little time left. Through the tour I had sat on the last row of the bus.
It helped me get away from the glare and unwanted attention. As I sat in the last row, my mind was completely on the game ahead. I was visualizing what would happen if India batted first and the first wicket fell at How would I react?
It was cold and very windy. As the bus moved towards our destination, the sky started getting darker. It seemed to reflect my anxiety-filled mind.
I found myself thinking about two bits of invaluable advice I had received on the tour. The first was from a batting maestro called Desmond Haynes. Haynes was then coaching Sussex. We were playing his county in Hove in a warm-up match just before the start of the one-day series. In those days an extra player was allowed to take part in the warm-up matches.
I was in the eleven but at some stage had come out to make way for another player. This was just after tea. It suited me perfectly as I was looking for an opportunity to approach the great man. Haynes was a role model of mine. He and Greenidge were a pair that could take apart any bowling attack in the world. He was sitting in the Sussex dressing room, absorbed in the match. I worried that he might not take kindly to an impulsive young Indian cricketer barging in on him.
He would not remember that four years ago I had played a one-day match against his West Indies at the Gabba. Finally I gathered enough courage to approach him. Haynes quickly put me at ease and spoke to me as if I was a close relation or friend. I asked him how I could manage the English weather.
During the early part of the English summer the wickets remained damp and the ball swung more, seaming considerably off the wicket. It made the Indian team especially vulnerable and our record in this season was pretty dismal. He mentioned a few technical points — that in such conditions you had to be constantly on the front foot and needed to know where the off stump was. But mostly he dealt with mental preparation and its importance.
This conversation took place about twenty-one years ago. Yet I will remember the Haynes discourse forever. Later I realized that he was teaching me about life. Not cricket. Over to Haynes:. What stood out in that team was enormous self-belief. The era had some outstanding and fearsome fast bowlers. To come through the challenge that they presented on the twenty-two yards, you had to be mentally very strong.
Every night before I went to sleep I would sit in the hotel room and go over my performance. I calculated how I would score the next day. I visualized that I would hit the fast bowlers in front of the wicket, through the cover region. And it happened exactly as I had imagined. On the nights I was a bit apprehensive and thought I might offer an edge to Lillee at the Gabba, that invariably happened too.
Seven times out of ten, cricketing successes are born out of visualizing positively. If you are mentally prepared to score against them, chances are that you will. Eight times out of ten, failures happen because of surrendering mentally. A negative mindset will only bring in negative results. I would remember that conversation with Haynes through my cricketing career.
I could clearly see at that young age that winners handle pressure differently. While most people are paralysed by the thought of failure, champions think of pressure as an opportunity to climb further up the ladder.
Rahul was sitting near me in the bus as was the unputdownable Javagal Srinath, who would always crack jokes and keep us relaxed. But on that particular day the drive to Old Trafford was different. I was barely listening to Srinath.
He was a psychologist assisting Worcester. I had met him very early in the tour while we were playing Middlesex. The Worcester team had also arrived around the same time as they had a county game against Middlesex the next day. I knew a few of the Worcester players from before. While the team was packing up in the dressing room I walked all the way to the Nursery End and asked my friends if I could spend fifteen minutes with their team psychologist.
I had heard good things about him. You have to understand the sense of urgency and desperation on my part here. I knew this tour offered me a last chance and that if I failed the nail would hammer down into my cricket coffin. Plus the negative talk around my selection gnawed at me.
Scoring runs in the first half of the English summer has always been difficult. I was raw, somewhat immature and my low-key performance stressed me out. With so many big names on the tour there was every possibility that I might. I did not want a repeat of Australia.
The voices in my head got louder and louder, filling me with anxiety and pessimism. I realized I needed some help. My chat with Craig may not have lasted more than twenty minutes. He had to rush off to be with his county team. But every word he said was golden. I asked him, how can I handle so much pressure? He said, pressure will always be there at the top level — from the day you face the first ball in your career to the last time you wear your whites.
You have to find a way to deal with it and move forward. For this, you have to remain in the present. You will always have external forces deciding your future, especially during your formative years. So the best way for you to approach the tour would be to play each and every game with equal intensity. Whether it is a side game or a Test, you must play with the same passion.
But try and give your best in that If you manage to impress the management with that ball innings, next time they will invite you for a bigger opportunity.
Remember, in life small successes open up the door for bigger ones. He will tell you, Sourav, I would rather be in your world and not mine. The bottom line is, you will enjoy your holidays only when there is pressure in your work. What is a job without any pressure?
Also remember, every time you solve a problem internally you will only get better. It is almost like solving a puzzle. Once you do it, your confidence grows. If you say you are turning your back at a challenge because you fear the pressure, then you are wasting an opportunity to get better.
I realized it was not just a question of displaying proper technique. What was more important at that stage was putting my mind ahead of the unknown fears. On the way we passed a new Starbucks outlet, a trendy shopping mall, nightclubs and hangouts. But nothing registered in my mind. Always trying to keep me on the back. I was in my own world. Nothing registered. I noticed nothing including the tension that was brewing between the captain and Navjot Singh Sidhu.
My mind was only on three individuals. I did my warm-ups. Practised a bit and stood in front of the wicket, waiting for Azhar to emerge for the toss. He must have felt the same in when he was playing his first Test match. But was different for him. Today he was the boss, conducting an interview with nothing to lose. While I was only an applicant.
At the age of twenty-three I was chasing a dream which could have gone either way based on that particular day. Yes, it was that crucial. That important. Then I saw Azhar walking down the steps of the dressing room for the toss. I watched as the coin rose in the air and fell, and Mike Atherton picked it up. It was cold. There was a light drizzle making it all the more difficult to bat. I knew Atherton would put us in. That is what exactly happened. India lost a wicket in the very first over.
Cork went past Tendulkar and I walked out. Ideally I would have liked Tendulkar at the other end. His solidity and presence would have made batting a lot more easier for a newcomer like me. But then the Almighty upstairs had decided to test me in all possible ways. I finished with a confident-looking But the impact of the 46 on me was huge.
That day the ball swung heavily and seamed wildly, making things all the more difficult for batsmen from the subcontinent, who are unused to such conditions. I had some friends in the team. The Kumbles, the Dravids, the Sachins, friends I had played with at the junior level.
They seemed very happy for me. As I walked into the dressing room after getting out, I heard a few voices saying that my batting was superb. India lost the match and we went back to the hotel. My roommate Sidhu had abandoned the match and gone home in disgust. A cricketer leaving like that during a tour and returning to India was unheard of.
I was busy fighting my own war. But I would say the real defining. It gave me a confidence that no other performance had. It kept on saying, your test papers are only going to get tougher from here. Remember this, what you successfully cleared at Old Trafford was only the entrance. How right the inner voice was I realized only later. Sachin walked over to me and put an arm around me affectionately. Have tea. I was not out and playing in full flow, interrupted only by the tea break.
I had already scored an immensely satisfying debut hundred and was looking good for some more. My bat handle had come loose in the long innings — a regular occurrence on away tours as the ball hits the splice of the bat because of the additional bounce on such pitches. This is what Sachin was offering to fix. But I knew it meant something more. It was a sign of appreciation, respect and a quiet welcome to the club of big boys.
The result will be declared on our Facebook page. Thanks for visiting our website. Wish you good luck. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. Product Description. How do you fight back and win? What does it take to perform when the pressure is skyhigh? True to Ganguly-lore that oscillated between ecstasy and pathos, he scored 85 and 0 in his final Test at Nagpur against Australia in A decade after he folded his Test whites, Ganguly opens up about a journey from nervous first-timer in the India-shade in to the swansong that stretched into a few seasons of the Indian Premier League.
Over pages, Ganguly deconstructs his playing days and there is candour and the obvious never-say-die spirit. The early parts deal with the gawkiness of his formative months when he was acutely conscious about senior room-mate Dilip Vengsarkar during the tour of Australia. But all that changed with my performance. A Century is Not Enough is Ganguly's story of monumental challenges - from his early days when he had to wait for about 4 years before being included in the team to the ugly battle with the Australian coach Greg Chappell.
He fought his way up and held his head high during his defeats, becoming India's true comeback king. Sourav Ganguly, arguably India's greatest cricket captain, gave confidence to the team, re-energized them and took India to spectacular overseas victories.
Full of highs and lows, his life continues to serve as an inspiration to many youngsters. Certified Buyer , Kolkata. Certified Buyer , Bengaluru. To many cricket fans, the modern Indian cricket era truly began after Sachin Tendulkar made his debut in but the man who at long last managed to mould the team into a winning unit - one capable of winning away from home too - only took over in That man was Sourav Chandidas Ganguly.
In the decade leading up to , India had only two away series wins - one against Sri Lanka in and then against Bangladesh in Just two.
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