In most cases, biographies are like a retirement bonus: celebrities, politicians, business leaders and public figures who have reached the point of no return, churn out an account of their life and times, hoping sale proceeds will add to their superannuation nest egg. In Sanath Jayasuriya’s case, whatever he earns from this book will be richly deserved.
The author, Chandresh Narayan, has made keen efforts to draw quotes and statements made by various dignitaries whenever required. He has narrated the entire journey of Jayasuriya from a very neutral stance — keeping intact the spirit of the sport. The book also explores various aspects of his personal life including his stint in politics.
From his humble beginnings in a remote town of Matara to a Hollywood style fame, Jayasuriya saw it all with a firm grip of his beloved willow, that took Sri Lankan cricket to the next level. The biography titled Sanath Jayasuriya reconstructs the incidents and events that have contributed to making Jayasuriya one of the greatest cricketers to have played the game, and an epitome of destructive batsmanship, humility and commitment to his team’s cause.
Before the advent of T20 cricket, Jayasuriya had given the world the first glimpse of what was to come in the following years. His biography opens with a poem aptly titled That Cyclone Sanath, describing the first instance Jayasuriya went berserk. It was the first game of the Singer Cup at Singapore on April 2, 1996 — Sri Lanka vs Pakistan. Batting first, Jayasuriya was up against the lethal attack of Waqar Younis, Saqlain Mushtaq and others. He took on Aamer Sohail for 30 runs in his first over and went on to record the then fastest ODI century — off 48 balls.
The book travels across eight chapters of lucid narration — from his early cricketing days to opening the batting for Mumbai Indians alongside Sachin Tendulkar. At the age of nine, Jayasuriya was hardly as tall as a bat and would be wearing oversized pads. Adjusting the pads became a habit, which eventually turned into a superstition as he moved on to international cricket. Explaining his superstition, Jayasuriya stated, “I touch a spot on my helmet and both my pads before every ball. Every time I hit a boundary, I have the habit of going to the middle of the pitch and tapping it.”
For cricket fans, this book has a wealth of anecdotes and inside information on the trials and tribulations involving overseas tours, the controversies that shadow modern cricket, the pulls and pressures of team selection, the challenge of balancing a normal family life and the relentless media glare.
One such incident, where after his career best Test score of 340 against India at the iconic R Premadasa Stadium in Colombo in 1997, Jayasuriya was lavishly praised by Tendulkar, where the Little Master was quoted as saying, ‘I’ve not seen Don Bradman bat, but I’ve seen Sanath Jayasuriya! I’ve not seen a better batsman in my cricketing career.’
Getting out of your comfort zone is the difference between great cricketers and impostors. That remains the moral of Jayasuriya’s story and what separates this biography from the rest.
What comes out from the book? A lot of Jayasuriya love. A lot of insight into his life, his technique, his attitude towards cricket (which goes beyond knocking balls around) and surprisingly, his sense of humour.
