My father, the hero

Pranob Roy

Right from my school days, my father wanted me to pay serious attention to cricket. People often say that it was my father's influence that turned me into a cricketer -- but it wasn't only that. Cricket was always my love, maybe because I had a father who was revered for the way he played the game. And I must add that though he did his best to instill in me a love for the game; not once did he thrust his own choices on us.

Indeed, he was my inspiration, mentor, guide -- and the reason I went on to wear the India cap. So serious was he about my game that when I was 12, he got me enrolled at the Kartik Bose Cricket Academy. Those days, we didn't have too many cricket academies. Bose, who ran this academy, was a former Bengal Ranji player and also coach of the Cricket Club of India, Bombay, -- the most prestigious cricket club that time.

My father had played 43 Tests for India -- but he believed that Bose was the better coach. Today, when you see former Test players making haste to form academies and sell their playing credentials, my father's action then strikes you as an example of his simplicity, his basic honesty and love for the game.

In Calcutta, he was a celebrity -- and yet, throughout his lifetime, he retained his warmth, his easy accessibility. He went further, and taught us, his children, to be polite to all, to stay humble. He often told us that we should act in such a manner that even after we have quit playing cricket, people should recognise us as good human beings.

Even while dealing with us brothers, he would never treat us harshly. There were times when we indulged in some mischief or something of the kind, but dad never resorted to beating or scolding. Other qualities that all of us in the family appreciated most about dad was the fact that he never attempted to impose his decisions on us. Whatever we chose as our career, he only encouraged us.

As I have mentioned earlier, his presence benefited my cricketing career manifold. However, he had made it subtly clear that he wouldn't meddle in my game as long as Bose was around to guide me. In Bose's absence, he never disappointed enriching me with priceless advice. I noticed a sea change in his attitude when I began playing bigger class cricket, like the Ranji Trophy and East Zone. That was when he thought I probably needed his guidance as well. He realised that the stage was perhaps ripe for him to guide me.

I remember one occasion, when I scored my debut hundred against Assam at the Eden Gardens in 1977-78. That century won me a berth in the East Zone team which was to play the visiting Kalicharan's West Indies, at Jamshedpur. Being a relatively new player, I was in deep apprehension about handling a fast attack, that too as lethal as that of the West Indians. That was the first time I formally sat down with my father for a few tips.

The night before we were to leave for the match, I asked my dad as to how he handled the quick attack during his soaring career. Considering the severe time constraint, he couldn't give me many tips. However, one point that he asked me to keep in mind while opening the innings was: 'Watch the ball till it gets past you. However fast a bowler may be, never take off your eyes until the ball crosses past you.'

Believe me, this small piece soon metamorphosed into an inseparable part of the whatever-little-career I had. Soon I realised that the advice was nothing less than a Bible for any opener. Though I lost my wickets cheaply against the West Indies, it was largely due to my inexperience. As I mentioned earlier, I had only one first class match to my credit then.

Performance or no performance, dad would never stop reminding me to work on my techniques. His belief was that great batsmen were not those who scored runs but those who exhibited correct techniques and elegance. Therefore, it was not surprising that he always wanted me to be technically well-equipped.

He was a father who would never be satisfied with his son's performance on the field. Even when I scored a ton or double hundred, next thing he would do after complimenting me was to point out the gray areas I needed to improve on, politely warning that I mustn't repeat those mistakes in subsequent matches.

After he quit international cricket, watching television became his favourite pastime. He never had a huge friends' circle and went out of home only when invited to attend some functions. While at home, he remained glued to the TV set. TV reminds me of the frequent healthy discussions we had on cricket.

Whenever there was a cricket match, we debated extensively on the merits of individuals. Once we were locked in a heated debate, arguing who was the best batsman -- Sourav Ganguly or Sachin Tendulkar. While we brothers were unanimous in Sachin's favour, dad thought otherwise. To him, Sourav was always a better player than Sachin. His reasoning was simple: Sachin may have scored plenty of runs, but Sourav was more consistent than him. He also rated Sourav very high as a captain, for he thought Sourav had everything needed to be a successful skipper. But it doesn't mean he underrated Sachin. The little master was his favourite batsman too. While he was thrilled to see the rise of a Bengali player on the international level after almost five decades, he was often pained when people began comparing Sourav with him. Though he never expressed his disenchantment openly, the comparison never appeased him.

My father felt that Sourav's inability to execute on-side deliveries is primarily due to his weak left hand. He reasoned that Sourav is basically a right-handed player who only bats as a left-hander. The only way, according to him, Sourav can improve his on-side deliveries with the perfection he executes balls going away from him, is through special physical training, emphasising more on his weak hand.

Today, when he is no more around us, it's natural for us to feel the void that his death has created. It's difficult to believe that his presence is no longer around us. However, every time I wear his clothes, slippers or shawl, I feel his presence.

I will conclude by saying that I couldn't have got a better father. If I have to give preference to either Pankaj Roy the cricketer or Pankaj Roy a father, I would surely find the latter more valuable.

As told to Rifat Jawaid

Pranob Roy is a selector in the Cricket Association of Bengal and manager of the East Zone team.

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