Sachin Tendulkar: The Sunset of a Cricketing Legend

It is over.  

Today, I witnessed the setting of one of cricket’s most obedient students. A man who carried the legacy of past greats with an almost sacred sense of responsibility and honour. Yet, this is not a sunset to celebrate. It is not an evening for fireworks and festivities, for what I witnessed was the end of an era—the era of *Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar.

For lovers of Test cricket, the departure of a classical maestro is never a joyous occasion. The exit of an iconic figure leaves behind a void, a silence, as though the orchestra has ceased mid-symphony.  

My relationship with Tendulkar goes back to 1990—a complicated bond woven from admiration, irritation, and grudging respect. I have disliked him. I have admired him. And, at times, I have bowed silently to his genius. I saw him evolve from a prodigious child into one of cricket’s most influential figures. At his best, he reminded me of the regal swagger of Viv Richards and the serene mastery of Sunil Gavaskar. Yet, I was often infuriated by the media frenzy that surrounded him. The deification of Tendulkar was something I could never accept.  

No, I still do not place him above The Don, Sobers or Viv Richards. I refuse to call him the “God of Cricket.”  

But what I cannot deny is this: Tendulkar redefined cricketing numbers, tore down records, and carried the hopes of a billion people every time he walked to the crease. His presence did not just inspire; it compelled. It was as if time itself paused, hypnotized by his mastery, commanding the world to witness his batting spectacle. For 24 years, the rhythm of Tendulkar’s game became the heartbeat of Indian cricket—and, in many ways, of cricket worldwide.  

He was not just among the greats; he was among the greatest.  

I savoured the elegance of his straight drives, the poise of his cover drives, and the power with which he dismantled bowling attacks. Tendulkar’s back-foot drives through point and backward point were poetry in motion. There are few indulgences worth sacrificing, but I would have missed a date with the most beautiful woman alive just to watch him unfurl those strokes.  

Cricket fans like me carry endless stories with this man.  

Tendulkar was not just a cricketer—he was a phenomenon, a gift from the heavens, whose craft provided solace amid the chaos of life. Few athletes in history have carried the weight of a nation’s hopes like he did. His batting was not merely a spectacle; it was a source of collective healing, a shared escape from the everyday anxieties of existence.  

With Tendulkar’s retirement, the world of Test cricket is undeniably poorer. His departure marks not just the end of a career, but the end of an era—a farewell to a form of batting that blended grace with grit, artistry with precision.  

Thank you, Sachin Ramesh Tendulkar, for two decades of wonder. Thank you for the memories that will live far beyond your playing days.

Thank You

Faisal Caesar