The Hindu : Ah, the Shane old story!

Online edition of India's National Newspaper
Thursday, Feb 13, 2003

Sport

Sport - World Cup

Ah, the Shane old story!

By Nirmal Shekar

SHANE Warne has done it again. Without bowling a single ball in the 2003 World Cup in southern Africa, the man who is arguably the greatest spinner of all time, has become the Man of the Tournament!

Four years ago in England, it took his considerable genius as a spinning sorcerer in the semifinals and finals of the World Cup in England to help Australia win the title and himself pick successive Man of the Match awards.

This time, all it took was a few diuretic pills given him by his mother.

Winning or losing, rising or falling, shamed or glorified, heroic or villainous, Shane Warne and the centre-stage are inseparable. The man belongs there, one way or the other, sinning or sinned against, bowling Australia to yet another famous victory or trying to make light of the latest scandal to mar the most celebrated cricket career of our times.

What a game Shane! What a shame Shane! These two lines not merely rhyme but have formed a consistent, rhythmic background score for the long-running, irresistible Shane Warne soap opera.

And what a soap it has been! Dynasty, Bold and Beautiful, Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and Chitti put together could not have produced such a storyline for any television producer.

In the event, in a way, the World Cup is over. For, the main show has moved to Sydney, a long way from South Africa. And it will go on, to be sure. Sometimes, you tend to believe that Warne is the sort of man who likes to dig a hole for himself first before building a monument for himself. The first act is the inspiration for the second.

Like a wierdo in some Wild West movie sticking a gun to the side of his own head and experimenting with blanks, Warne seems addicted to the noose. He loves to stick his head into it. But, then, the only thing he loves better is to wriggle his head free from it and throw his hands up in triumph.

Now, in the twilight of an extraordinary career, many would doubt whether the genius from Melbourne can yet again pull off the gallows-to-glory, death-defying miracle. But do not entirely write off his chances. For this is a very, very special man.

Then again, of all the stupid things Warne has done in his life, this one takes the cake.

How can a top professional sportsman living in a developed nation _ with all sorts of advice on medication on drugs just a phone call or a mouse click away _ do something like this? Doesn't it seem ludicrous that a multi-millionaire Australian icon should pop some slimming pill that "Mom gave'' and then find himself exposed at his sport's biggest quadrennial show?

That's Shane Warne for you. It would have been a huge surprise if it had happened to Steve Waugh. Or Sachin Tendulkar. But when it comes to Warney, it is par for the course. It's just another drive that's landed in a watery bunker.

Put that down to the equivocal nature of genius. Put that down to character flaws that are almost as compelling as his talents. Put that down to a simple accident. But the point is simple. Whatever else Warne might have aspired to, the Nobel Peace prize was not among his goals. Sportsman as a saint is an utopian dream. Not the least when it comes to a complicated champion sportsman like Warne.

If we expected him to be the greatest spinner of all time, the best looking bloke in the business, and the nicest guy in world sport, then that was our mistake. Not Warne's. And, Jo'burg-gate is bound to add to his appeal, believe it or not. That is the way of sport and life.

If there is no trace of moral indignation in this column, then that is the result of conscious effort. For, decade after passing decade, dozens of so-called sporting heroes have had their feet of clay exposed. And we have revelled in the celebration of their heroics as much as we have taken a sort of perverse pleasure in pushing them into their graves.

And, in the long run, acts of misconduct and abuse by top sportsmen only contribute to their "image'' and turn them into greater celebrities even as the line between mere superstars and great heroes fades rapidly.

Perhaps a part of the reason why we are attracted to the anti-heroes such as Warne is we secretly wish we could behave the way they do and get away with it. Most of us don't dare, but deep inside, the law-breaking, convention-shattering instinct lurks in many of us and we love the rebel warriors or sinning superstars such as Warne as much as we profess, in public, to hate them.

This apart, in many a champion sportsman, genius and madness are inseparable. And the touch of madness is triggered by the awarness of their own genius which makes for a feeling of invincibility.

While this might help in a competitive environment _ as it has in Warne's case _ in the field of sport, in life in general, what it does is to instil in him a I-can-do-no-wrong attitude.

So, what if I took a few bob from a bookie for a weather report? So what if I made a few indecent proposals to a woman on mobile phone in England? So what if I assaulted a fan who photographed me while smoking? Finally, so what if I took something that contains a banned substance?

Warne might very well ask himself all these questions in a private moment and dismiss each one of his acts of folly as minor blips in his career that were magnified by the media. And perhaps be none the worse for that.

For, believe me, the Shane Show will go on. Ignore the obituary writers and their knee-jerk reactions. Laugh at all the talk about a shameful end to a glorious career.

And, remember, we have heard all this before, many times over. Warne loves to read his own obituary. Nothing inspires him as much as the reports of his own demise!

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