Jadeja's race against time and public perception

During those dark days and lonely evenings, when the sceptre of betting and match-fixing hung dangerously over his head, Ajay Jadeja might have dreaded every time the phone rang.
Today, after the violent storm has passed and a certain calm and purpose has returned to his life, he is waiting for it to ring one more time. Probably hoping, even praying, that it will finally bring in the good news that he is needed in the Indian team.
One phone call can make him a free man again.
A lot has, of course, transpired in the cricket world since its greatest stars had been sucked into the whirlpool of suspicion, deceit and betrayal. The game has regained some of its legitimacy and most of its fan-following even though Test cricket is heading towards a greater disaster: of losing its pre-eminence.
Many images and thoughts cross the mind as one goes back to the summer of 2000 and the months that followed. Manoj Prabhakar''s farcical sting operation. Kapil Dev''s great tears-act on television. Azharuddin''s pleading, almost helpless, eyes. A series of unconvincing inquiries. Court cases. Yet, almost everything now feels like grains from the past, evaporating into nothingness.
Strangely, there''s no particular memory of Jadeja from those heart-breaking days. The name only triggers images from that epochal Ranji Trophy final between Haryana and Bombay, way back in 1991, much before the sport had lost its innocence. Jadeja was young then, bustling with energy and spreading cheer and confidence with his smiles and exuberance.
On the field, he was electric, cutting off singles and twos with uncanny anticipation and sharper reflexes. He ran in the outfield like a gazelle, enjoying the race against the ball and looking even more pleased whenever he won.
He was even more impressive with a bat in hand: the head was still, the backlift was high and the follow-through divine. His feet moved like an accomplished dancer''s and his drives, especially on the rise, suggesting that a pedigreed batsman had arrived.
He also bowled medium pace intelligently, using the seam and swinging the ball like a delighted child. (If I remember right, he had plotted the downfall of Tendulkar, who seemed to be taking the match away from Haryana in the thrilling chase.) Jadeja had played a pivotal role in that stunning upset.
Within a few months, he was on the flight to Australia, ready to wear India''s colours in the World Cup. He didn''t score too many runs there but pulled off probably the best catch of the tournament, somewhere in the deep off Allan Border. He faded in and out after that, struggling to hold on to his place after inexplicably changing his technique.
It was only in 1996 that an unexpected but savage onslaught against a receding Waqar Younis propelled him into the bigger league. Suddenly, the silky stroke-maker had transformed into a sledgehammer; in the process, he gave pinch-hitting a new meaning and definition.
Overnight, he became a star and the heartthrob of thousands of squeaky teenagers.
Jadeja''s reputation preceded him wherever he went; from a very good fielder, he soon became a critical One-day batsman in Azharuddin and Wadekar''s plans; he also seemed to be the perfect captain-in-the-making (he, of course, led India in a few matches). But somewhere along the line, he was overtaken by friends around him. Was he a victim? Was he a prey? Or was he the perpetrator? Very few people will eventually know the truth.
But he didn''t give up: he fought the battle and somehow managed to even win it (at least morally). It helped that he had influential and powerful friends: a couple of film stars gave him a break in a movie; a couple of lawyers helped him in the court case and a couple of politicians ensured that he got a place in the Delhi Ranji squad.
He eventually went on to become Delhi captain, also with a little help from friends. But as the season is ending, he has proved that he deserved the post, that he is a born leader. The question, however, is: what does the Board do? Will it change its stance now?
It probably should. One of its constituents (DDCA) has already allowed him to play and lead it in the country''s premier tournament; the court has given him a clean chit. And he has also proved that he still hasn''t lost his instinct for survival on the field. Most importantly, every man deserves a second chance.
But will the phone ring again? Will it set him free forever? Ajay Jadeja is, however, running against time.