Opinion Lessons from Roger Federer

Considering the stature of the “employee”, those meaningless designations should be dumped at first handshake when the three meet. Kohli and Shastri should play the diligent pupils. For this is their best chance to understand the real meaning of aggression, a word they have used so loosely in the dressing room and in press conferences since they came together as captain and coach.

Virat Kohli and company, plus Shastri, must watch Roger Federer to understand the inner aggression. (Source: AP)

It’s a much-abused credo blindly embraced by most of India’s young cricketers. In the name of aggression, favourites have been picked and moved around the batting line-up, marginalising the un-alpha, less-marketable, and better players in the bargain. This overwhelming endorsement of a misplaced belief in aggression is making boorishness a part of team culture. The pressure to be ugly is such that even the erstwhile “good” are slowly
turning “bad”.

Not to let out a wild war cry in celebration makes you a weakling, or worse, a bore. Sledging at an incoming batsman or staring down bowlers is equated with competitiveness. The captain needs to bark instructions to the team, growl at umpires, snarl at opponents to be seen as an authoritative hands-on leader. Worryingly, this behavioural pattern is trickling down the system, from Kohli at the top to the likes of impressionable new teen star Sarfaraz Khan, a player whose impressive IPL debut was all about bold batting, unconventional shots, trash-talking and a near fist-fight with a senior.

Recall that 1986 tied Test against Australia, Ravi Shastri’s safety first “at least we won’t lose” single that exposed No 11 Maninder Singh and denied India a stunning win. (Source: AP)

Watching Federer on court makes these growling, barking, sledging young cricketers look like over-expressive caricatures conceived by Disney animators. This shouldn’t be mistaken as a sermon for Gen Next. They aren’t being pushed to be Saint Federer. They can’t and they shouldn’t. It’s urging Kohli and company, plus Shastri, to watch Federer to understand the inner aggression that is more difficult to imbibe than mouthing an obscenity or walking with a put-on swagger and a scowl. There is a hard-to-master facet of aggression that is more effective than the in-vogue cheap interpretation so aggressively marketed in pop culture.

Federer’s aggression is about spotting a weakness and pouncing on it, securing a mile after being gifted an inch, refusing to roll over by either innovating or introducing an imaginative tactical change. Most importantly, it’s about not letting pressure tighten your muscles. Consistently hitting the lines at 30-40 or championship point gives Federer the reputation of a feared predator. He doesn’t need the tongue of a trucker to intimidate his rivals.

Kohli the batsman should show that aggression in dealing with the away-going ball outside off-stump, a weakness that has stayed with him for over a year. Misjudging the line and tentativeness in stroke-making have come in the way of hailing Kohli as the ultimate attacker. Though he does have the temperament to take the team to victory in tight situations, of late, that feature has gone missing. As captain, during the opening Test of last month’s series against Sri Lanka, he first let a daredevil No 6, Dinesh Chandimal, take the score from 95/5 to 220/6 and was later part of a batting collapse. It wasn’t a result that looks good on the CV of a captain and coach, that sleeveless vest-wearing tag team ever so keen to flex
its muscles.

Several years ago, I had met Kohli in similar gym wear. It was 2008 and he was the India under-19 World Cup captain. He had zits and teenage biceps. With a sparkling stone pierced to his ear and a tattoo on his forearm, he looked like a rapper on his way to a gig. When I fished out a camera, he got up. “No pictures please, my academy coach in Delhi will shout at me if he sees this tattoo and earring.” In a year’s time, he was appearing in a TV commercial with lipstick marks on his cheek and a love bite on his neck. The making of Kohli explains the dilemma that the present generation of cricketers faces and how the world around them has shaped their lives.

While still in his teens, he was the poster boy of a liquor-baron-backed IPL team that believed in “living life king size”. By virtue of being the home player and a marketable brand, he led a team that had players with better captaincy credentials and more skilful batting techniques. The spin doctors got carried away and this showed in the storylines of the advertisements he acted in. In a cola ad, he shooed cricket’s greatest-ever all-rounder, Jacques Kallis, back to his run-up as if he was a bowler from a club side. Attitude and arrogance sells, we have been told. In another one, he trains on a treadmill with A.B. de Villiers, probably the most athletic player ever to play the game. And, surprise, even outlasts him. To be true to his brand image, Kohli needs to continue with the act off-field. He needs to be the superman with a frown. Save the world and spit on the face of the vanquished, goes the new superhero script.

It’s the dream image every agent wants young signees to have. There’s little doubt in the minds of men who claim to know the pulse of the nation that to be a youth icon, you need to be the loudest and meanest on the field. If not, you should be happy with an occasional “financial services” endorsement. FMCG companies will continue to line up outside Kohli’s home. “Look what Rahul Dravid had for all his runs. A Bank of Baroda advertisement. Or you need to be Sachin Tendulkar, which no one can be,” agents are heard telling their well-behaved wards. Like movie stars, media exposure is part of a player’s brand-building strategy. Have you wondered why Suresh Raina is seen on TV shows and comedy nights? He is doing “lifestyle interviews” these days, they say, as he hasn’t done enough on the field. Stories about early struggles, pranks in dressing rooms, gifts for mom, songs for wives, keep you in the news. FMCG companies need to remember you through the Test match season, which you are missing because of your inability to crack the longer format.

You would expect Shastri to rein in young India’s shallow aggression. He was ideal for the job. Remember those “Shastri hai, hai” days and his snail-paced batting. Recall that 1986 tied Test against Australia, Shastri’s safety first “at least we won’t lose” single that exposed No 11 Maninder Singh and denied India a stunning win. Shouldn’t he tell Kohli and his boys to tone it down? But is he the kind to rock the boat? He certainly didn’t with a mike in hand. Maybe he believes in Kohli and aggression. All the more reason he should know the real meaning of aggression.

sandeep.dwivedi@expressindia.com