Preaching what you don't practise is bad advice, but that's easier said than done for obvious reasons. The former is not too challenging. The latter calls for tenacity, endurance, and a great deal of guts. Humans are insatiably curious creatures by nature. We are constantly aiming higher. There is a developing drive to accomplish goals in that ongoing pursuit of greatness. Often, we don't commemorate 95. We regret losing out on 100% by only 5. Any Indian student will know. Rarely do they get the time to appreciate their successes. More empty than the 98 on their report card are the two who are missing. The civilization adheres to a cruel design. The same holds true for cricket. Same goes with Sachin Tendulkar, called "God".
If Sunil Gavaskar hadn't become the first cricketer to score 10,000 Test runs, his legacy wouldn't have been any less significant. If Tendulkar hadn't made his 100th international century, he would still have been the closest to Sir Don Bradman. Again, preaching is simpler. Gavaskar was constantly reminded of the landmark during the Pakistani tour of India in 1987, no matter where he went. Others kind of started to depend on it.
When Tendulkar was'stuck' with 99 international hundreds for a protracted period of time, his situation was no different—in fact, it may have been more cramped due to the explosion of social media and electronic media.
The finest performance of Gautam Gambhir's career was the 97 he scored against Sri Lanka in the 2011 World Cup final, although many still tease him about the charge to Thisara Perera. Instead of merely taking it easy to reach that hundred, he receives instruction for losing poles with a risky shot. The result of the game would not have been altered by it. Gambhir didn't let the game sag and allow Sri Lanka a sniff, which was, in reality, the appropriate move. On the other hand, 97 runs is considered a half-century, which is far less than the fictitious pride of a hundred.
There are innumerable instances of our fascination with milestones, but let's get to the point before the social media age rejects this as 'pravachan'.
By making a last-ditch effort to reach three digits in a World Cup game against Bangladesh in Pune, Kohli revealed his frailty. When Kohli realised that India could not possibly lose the game, he made the decision to set himself a new challenge. To reach his century, he maintained the strike for 19 consecutive deliveries. One may infer that it wasn't planned based on the way Kohli was performing. Not possible. He probably didn't think of it until he struck a six off Hasan Mahmud to go to 80. It was a straightforward calculation: 20 for his hundred, 20 for India to win. There were 11.1 overs left, so Kohli made the decision to go for it.
In no way was it simple. KL Rahul, Kohli's batting partner, gave him the impression that turning down a single or two was OK as long as he was approaching his century, which was a big boost. Rahul is the best person to comprehend the hurt of missing a deserving century. After smashing a beautiful six over covers to defeat Australia, he collapsed to the ground. The cause? He wanted it to go for a four so he would have one run remaining to go for a six and get his century.
In order to ultimately smash a six and reach his milestone—the 48th ODI century, which put him just one step short of Tendulkar's 49-run world record—Kohli needed to bat through 19 deliveries, turn down three singles, and require one off the last ball for three consecutive overs. Was it appropriate for a player of Virat Kohli's stature to do so? Was reaching a century so crucial that he overlooked the fact that he was playing in front of his home fans in a World Cup game? What kind of lesson would that convey to children learning the fundamentals of a team sport like cricket? These inquiries are all valid. But before accusing anyone, ask yourself the same question and work to address this ferocious hunger for milestones.
When that is all we ask for each and every time, we (the majority of us, definitely not everyone) have no right to question someone who goes above and beyond to accomplish a goal. Our criteria are always the number of hundreds, five-wicket hauls, this, that, statistics, and more statistics.
The last century in a World Cup by Kohli was against Pakistan in 2015. He scored five fifty-scores in 2019 and almost missed a well-deserved hundred against Australia a few weeks ago. He was not going to allow the chance to record his third World Cup century pass so lightly. Yes, the fixation with milestones is so ingrained that it even affects the best, and Kohli is the greatest.
And keep in mind that when you're Kohli, it's even harder. His status in the Indian team was called into doubt after he went three years without recording a century. Between his 70th and 71st international appearances, Kohli hit 26 half-centuries, 12 of which were over 70 and six of which were over 80, yet there was constant talk about the omitted century. Even though he wasn't at his best, his performance in the 1970s and 1980s was usually good enough for India to win matches, but not nearly good enough to satisfy his need for milestones.
And this is not limited to only certain centuries. Do you recall the Maslow hierarchy of needs theory? Humans have a hierarchy of demands that they are driven to meet, and whenever one need is met, another one always develops. Even centuries in Kohli's peak were insufficient. Is he really ineligible to record a double century? When Kohli, who was hitting runs for joy, failed to reach the century mark in any of his first five Test seasons, the debate erupted. When he hit his first double century against the West Indies in July 2016, he had his response. And over the course of 17 months, he added five more goals to set record after record.
But were we happy with it? When will we be? No. Therefore, hold a mirror in front of you before you accuse Kohli of being egotistical for going for a century in a game that was already won.
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