Cricket’s Own Ashwin and Ashwin’s Own Cricket

The India Today media group a few years back ran an interview series called Unforgettables with noted personalities from different spheres like sports, entertainment, and politics engaged in a free-flowing interaction. The format of the series was unlike regular interviews as the celebrities here conversed casually with each other without the presence of a trained anchor. One of the episodes in 2016 featured former Indian cricket captain Sourav Ganguly and the Indian spin-bowling tradition’s then latest torch-bearer Ravichandran Ashwin.

The two touched upon many aspects of the sport and the conversation grew more informal as it progressed. At one point, Ganguly recounted the dreaded tour of Sri Lanka in 1997 where the hosts made India stay in the field for over three days putting 952 runs on board. He further added how a certain Sri Lankan umpire at the time wasn’t the kindest to Indians and made getting Aravinda de Silva out virtually impossible.

While Ganguly struggled to recall the name of the umpire it took Ashwin less than a second to almost reflexively come up with the name. “K T Francis,” he said, completing Ganguly’s thought and leaving him a little shocked. It was a Test match from almost 20 years ago at the time. 

It’s not quite unusual for cricket nerds in India to remember every intricate detail of every match they’d watched as kids. But those who made it at the highest level ought to have had a slightly different childhood. They actually played junior cricket in competitive tournaments while the rest of the kids were glued to their television sets eating unhealthy snacks. 

For someone who already at the time was one of India’s greatest spin bowlers to be talking like an average geek who’d have done much better on ESPN School Quiz Olympiad than on a cricket field was quite astonishing to see even though mildly satisfying too. And this wasn’t an oddity in Ashwin’s case. In his media interactions and social media posts, his unadulterated fandom for cricket could routinely be traced.

On a cold December morning, there’d suddenly be a tweet relishing the experience of watching the Ashes. At the conclusion of some of his own matches, the very first post would be about wanting to catch up on the second half of an ODI being played somewhere in South Africa. 

It’s not like international cricketers are absolutely repulsed by the idea of watching more cricket outside their own. But the extremely demanding nature of their profession usually drains out the will to consume more of it. Not with Ashwin. His obsession far exceeded beyond plying his own trade in the field.

And perhaps it’s this level of fixation with the sport itself that explains so much about the kind of cricketer Ashwin went on to become. In comparison to all his peers, he possessed a visibly superior repertoire of deceptions and tricks. With the subtlest of variations in speeds and that precise amount of drift that he could execute ball after ball, spell after spell, and session after session, he could elevate the theatrical appeal of the art of spin.

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Be it the undercutter grip with which he always kept the left-handed batters guessing about whether the ball would thud into their pads or turn away from the bat; or the occasional zooter to push the right-hander deep into his crease inducing an outside edge, Ashwin never shied away from his penchant for showmanship. 

Being unusually effective with his articulation, he loved explaining these elements of his bowling in great detail. At times he was labelled as an overthinker who unnecessarily complicated his craft or even mocked when the performances didn’t match his oratory. 

But that never quite deterred Ashwin from enhancing his skills with new experiments. He once remodelled his action mimicking that of West Indies’ Sunil Narine for a few games. When the Indian team decided to pivot to wrist-spinners in the limited-overs setup, he even briefly became one himself posing as an Anil Kumble impostor.

Indian cricket has always remained extremely resource-rich when it comes to spinners. In order to truly carve a niche in this culture, one ought to have gone the extra mile beyond just landing the ball in a spot and letting the surface take care of the rest. 

Ashwin recognised the need for this fairly early in his career. And it showed in how fast he adjusted to the idea of being the main man who’d be expected to step up and run through teams at will. And for the thirteen years he played Test cricket, he remained that main man for India.

For at least three generations before Ashwin arrived at the scene, the Indian Test team had always had at least one world-class spinner in its ranks. He was thus taking up a role set with impossibly lofty standards. Harbhajan Singh, the off-spinner he was first deputised as a replacement of, is an Indian legend in his own right. Although the veteran’s career had more or less hit a plateau by 2011, very few were convinced it was the right time to move on from him.

However, in the very first Test Ashwin played, he comprehensively allayed any such concerns. The West Indian team of the time was of reasonable pedigree and it showed in them having taken a 95 run first-innings lead over India in Delhi. But the slightest sniff at a wearing pitch was enough for Ashwin to run through the visitors’ middle order disallowing them to turn a substantial lead into a winning total.

The course of events from that debut match remained pretty much the theme of the home leg of Ashwin’s career. Teams could make merry while the conditions suited batting but it was always only a matter of time before Ashwin came knocking. The lethal partnership he’d go on to form with Ravindra Jadeja a couple of years later was the cornerstone of the unprecedented home dominance India exercised for 12 years. 

It won’t be too wrong to suggest the end of that streak at the hands of New Zealand a little earlier this year may have played a part in pushing Ashwin into considering retirement. It never makes for a pretty sight when any player – much less someone of Ashwin’s repute – decides to leave a series midway; particularly when the team is in a delicate position in Australia.

There might even be some merit to the conjecture that losing his place in the XI to a rookie spinner like Washington Sundar at Perth may have been the final straw for Ashwin. There have been reports in the past too highlighting his grievances at being left out of the team on crucial away assignments. Some of that grouse may have resurfaced before he thought he’d had enough and it probably ended on a less than ideal note.

But it wasn’t without some kind of sardonic quirk that Ashwin took the field one last time as a Test cricketer in Australia, a country where his prowess kept being unfairly questioned for as long as he was around. Of course, he’s unplayable on the ‘dustbowls’ in India but can he deliver when it ‘matters the most’ on those daunting Australian tours? Or What about South Africa, or England, or New Zealand?

The Indian cricket discourse has always been heavily corrupted by a propensity to play down achievements by continuing to add filters and asterisks until a hole is found. It’s almost as if you’re actively wanting a player to fail in certain scenarios to feel vindicated about how you knew it all along.

The proverbial SENA nations (South Africa, England, New Zealand, Australia) have been posited as the ultimate acid Test for an Indian cricketer irrespective of profile. Unless a spinner replicates his home exploits in these countries, his mettle remains unproven and unworthy of any special praise.

Like every other spinner ever to have played the game, Ashwin took his time adjusting to the speeds, the lengths, and the slight technical maneuvers that are required to succeed in conditions unconducive to spin. But by the time he had his second crack at the SENA cycle, he’d incorporated each of these in his bowling. And it clearly showed in how he bowled on these tours even if the returns didn’t always do adequate justice to his performance.

The 2018-19 overseas cycle onward, Ashwin had some stellar performances in each of these countries. Spells at Centurion, Edgbaston, Adelaide, Melbourne, and the one at Southampton in the inaugural World Test Championship final are among the finest from a visiting spinner.

Ashwin’s routine omission from the playing XI in the last few SENA tours had been a bone of contention in the cricket media. Many felt the team didn’t show ample confidence in their premium spinner. But in defence of the management, Jadeja offered them significant batting cover in the lower order without compromising too much on the spin front. Ashwin was simply a victim of circumstances and of a problem of plenty.

The host countries too on India’s recent visits kept serving pitches that all but neutralised spinners which somewhat made the decision to leave Ashwin out simpler. Rigging conditions to the point a whole craft is rendered unnecessary is perhaps the best unintended compliment teams could pay to a bowler. The South African and the English teams of the time may not have thought of it that way but their actions did speak.

The caveats attached to Ashwin’s records weren’t just limited to his outings in foreign conditions. A widespread opinion continues to persist that his ridiculous-looking numbers at home too are entirely due to the raging turners that were doctored to make his life easier.

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It’s not a completely unfounded claim. India indeed have in the last ten years prepared pitches that could be classified as extreme. There’ve been made-to-order strips reacting to the opposition’s playing combinations and the scoreline at a given point in the series. 

However, these have been few and far between. Ashwin (and Jadeja) has been the visiting teams’ kryptonite even on perfectly good Test pitches. Moreover, doctored pitches carry the additional risk of amplifying the impact of visiting spinners of lesser skill. But India were able to consistently take that risk because Ashwin lent them that kind of confidence. It won’t be too long before it becomes evident that those home wins didn’t come as cheaply as everyone thought. New Zealand has already given a teaser of this.

Beyond a point, comparing great cricketers is more of an exercise in wanting to feel good about yourself. The debate turns into drivel faster than most realise. Given India’s rich history with the craft of spin, every generation will be able to make a compelling case for their favourites. On evidence though, no one has had a more prolific career at a more efficient rate than Ashwin has. It won’t be a stretch to suggest that he’s been the greatest post-war finger-spinner Test cricket has seen.

But Ashwin’s true appeal lay in his ability to turn spin into an experiential spectacle; in that he could cast spells around the best in business without having to try the funkiest of tricks. It was always just the drift, the dip, and the revs. Some would take off, some would slide. You just had to have an eye for it.

Traditional off-spin has had its space considerably shrunk down with modern pitches and umpiring incentivising teams to pick faster spinners who bowl into the pitch. Shorter formats have anyway all but phased out the profile.

If the game indeed moves on from off-spin in the years to come, Ashwin, along with Nathan Lyon, will probably be remembered as its last great exponent. Keep the reels handy.