This little Sri Lankan’s allure, despite being pot-bellied, was anything but flamboyant. An antithesis for a modern-day sportsman? Maybe. But, his cogent psyche embodied a passionate cricketer, whose philosophy of life was direct, never in flight before contemporary difficulties.
Sri Lanka’s analytical skipper Arjuna Ranatunga was no philosopher, Buddhist monk, or mercenary, in the general, or accepted, sense. Yet, his psychology wasn’t perplexed, or too esoteric. It was straight and simple. It transcended fad, or phoniness, or strings of ‘seediness’ sometimes attached to his profession as captain.
If gentle nature and great courage do not often blend well within one individual, Ranatunga was an exception. He braved life’s commonplace theme song, as much as cricketing history, based on his own sense of traditional prudence and steely steadfastness.
Versatility was Ranatunga’s forte. In a given situation, he could be relaxed, unassuming, defiant, quiet, fragile, progressive, liberated, or wise — and, also bohemian. Of a mix that transcended gloom. Over the years, Ranatunga emerged a bold leader with a mind of his own. He was a thinking captain. And, unlike most others, he was in step with the feelings of his fellow players in his talented side. He was able to handle disagreements quickly, so that they did not escalate.
Leading By Example
Leadership, for Ranatunga, was not domination, but the art of persuading his team-mates towards a common goal: to excel. In terms of managing himself, Ranatunga was more than willing to recognise his deepest feelings about what ‘we’ as a team ‘do’— and, what changes might make ‘us’ more truly satisfied with ‘our’ work. This clearly explained the raison d’être for Sri Lanka’s dream-run, with its emphatic 1996 World Cup victory — a victory for ‘flair’ over ‘organised,’ or technical, game plan.
The Miracle at Lahore was an awe-inspiring event: a well-deserved win. Ranatunga led by example — encouraging his ‘electrically-charged’ men to greater efforts through his own sense of dedication and courage. He was, in so doing, never a lone-hero: a theme that will always continue to serve as a positive and visible demonstration of the behaviours that are required for the success of strategies.
Not that Ranatunga had just a few problems with the establishment. He had had his tiffs; but, they are now antiquated. It was his effectiveness that complemented his efficiency. He had the ability to wriggle himself out of any circumstance with a smile on his plump face.
Ranatunga was a prolific run-getter, without an ode being composed for his batsmanship. Having been one of the longest-serving international cricketers, after making his debut in Sri Lanka’s inaugural Test against England, as an 18-year-old (1982-83), Ranatunga was an innovative batsman — a dangerous opponent, much respected for his crafty batsmanship, rather than pure elegance. He scored runs by the pile, in both versions of the game.
Ranatunga’s batting was based not only on his delicate nudges and deflections, but also robust pulls and drives. His footwork was unhurriedly neat, his balance firmly poised and his timing sure. While his cutting and glancing were almost phlegmatic, his subcontinental wristiness gave him immense leverage, even delicacy, without any apparent effort going into hitting the ball with immense power. Left-handers always have an inherent style: a style that is their own trademark, or patent. Ranatunga did not really belong to such a generalisation. Yet, his batting was a deeply considered, rationalised technique, where the first stride of a run seemed like a built-in part of every stroke he made. A fine judge of the single, Ranatunga was a great conserver of energy.
Basic Orthodoxy
There was basic orthodoxy in Ranatunga’s batting — the fundamental reason for his own degree of consistency lay in the precision of his defence. Once he was established, his sharp eye, his early assessment and inborn gift of timing enabled him to play almost any shot. A case in point: a high-level pull shot, a difficult stroke, which stayed hit all the way over the top, in the 1996 World Cup, off Shane ‘Magic’ Warne, who was, for a change, totally destroyed by an inspired Lankan brigade.
His record. Tests: matches 93, innings 155, not out 12 times, runs 5,105, highest score 135 not out; average 35.7; 4 hundreds, 38 fifties (catches 47). ODI: matches 269, innings 255; not out 47 times, runs 7,456, highest score 131 not out; average 35.8, 4 hundreds, 49 fifties (catches 63).
To be in authority — and, yet not revel on authority, or authoritativeness, is a virtue only a select few possess. Ranatunga was one of them. He was a strong, confident captain without being over-confident, or haughty, although he had had his brushes with umpires. He was also resolute without being too rigid, or firm, or so one thought. He had the guts, assiduity, and allegiance, complemented by a divine gift called luck too — something that is not always constant in one’s journey through time.
Sri Lanka did not win the 1996 World Cup by a quirk, or acclamation. It was a signal triumph, a magisterial victory — a truly epic scale of a team’s achievement. Of the dreams and anxieties that impelled it in just 20 years after the country’s fascinating debut in the quadrennial event. In Lanka’s finest hour, which transformed the game in the Emerald Isle — from minnows to World Champions — Ranatunga had reason to be proud of himself and his gallant lads.
Now an administrator and politician, Ranatunga is a stone-solid genius, a dazzling star of wit and insight, inspiration, empathy, and imagination, despite his moles and warts. He’s, in sum, a cricketer, and leader, in the Napoleonic mould, albeit World Cup 1999 changed his cricketing destiny — at one fell swoop.
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