IT probably doesn’t matter whether Sachin Tendulkar was styled Master Blaster by his milling fans or if advertising geniuses shaped the public image. A new look at his records, or absence of them, comes in the form of a book titled Master Laster, What They Don’t Tell You About Sachin Tendulkar.

Indian journalist and sports buff Sumit Chakraberty has culled from the record books facts that were masked from public view, to give a more rounded assessment of the talent that Tendulkar was. Where there were fawning fans ready to idolise him with blind faith, there is now a glossary of facts that makes the talented Indian player look human, with the frailties that everyone from Donald Bradman to Garfield Sobers, from Mushtaq Ali to Sunil Gavaskar betrayed in their impressive careers.

Cricket’s heroes are ever-lasting and they are not all blistering batsmen. Every player in the famous tied Brisbane Test between Australia and West Indies in 1960 was a hero. The first match I went to saw Ted Dexter’s MCC team pitted against India at Kanpur. The lanky Dexter had to go down on his knee to greet Uttar Pradesh governor Rama Rao. My mind was on the Brisbane Test although Rohan Kanhai, my hero, fared poorly. The fact is there’s nothing wrong with heroes failing in cricket. They still remain heroes.

Fazal Mehmood and Mushtaq Mohammad had their lean days. There were names that sounded musical, and will always stay in memory for that reason: Peter Parfitt, Neil Harvey, Poly Umrigar. By the time Sunil Gavaskar and Kapil Dev came on the scene India was ready to recast itself as a formidable team.

We admired batsmen who played against the thunderbolts of Alan Davidson and Wesley Hall without helmets. That’s the context in which I have seen Tendulkar, one among many greats, but one who played cricket with plenty of modern rugby-like protection.

Chakraberty juxtaposes Tendulkar with a different set of contrasts, using his younger contemporaries as foil. And here we get an amazingly new insight into this enormous talent as also into his unspoken weaknesses. The book was written at the time of Tendulkar’s recent retirement, a lavish affair, which cricketers can only dream of.

It begins by bowling a loosener: out of Tendulkar’s 51 Test centuries and 67 half centuries he scored until the writing of the book, how many were scored in the second innings to chase a target, or to set up a win for India outside the subcontinent? None. V.V.S. Laxman did it four times, and Rahul Dravid thrice. The book scrupulously avoids the melee of massive advertising budgets and sponsorships that have pointed in the opposite direction.

Rahul Dravid scored 72 not out to take India to the victory target of 233 in Adelaide after others had failed. Chakraberty invites comparison here with Tendulkar’s highest Test score of 248 not out to beat Bangladesh by an innings and 140 runs in Dhaka.

“On the record books, it’s the 248 that counts for more — double century, check, match winning, check, an away game, check. And it obviously does more for the batting average too,” observes the book. “The stats attach no importance to the fact that Dravid gave India a rare Test win in Australia, whereas Tendulkar’s exploits in Bangladesh were mostly superfluous.”

On another occasion, Tendulkar’s 100th international century came in a game India lost to Bangladesh. His scoring rate was below par — 114 runs in 147 balls.

However, India lost also when Tendulkar scored a brisk century — 143 runs in 131 balls against Australia in Sharjah. But that lifted the net run rate enough to catapult India into the finals. “Those two centuries are like chalk and cheese, but current stats won’t show that.”

An individual player’s records, the book argues, can be seen as a stand-alone feature, but they offer a better insight when compared to the performance of the rest of the team on a given outing.

Bradman heads the list of players who had the highest percentages of team totals over a test career, showing that he often came good when others caved in. Brian Lara stands out at number three in this list while Tendulkar, according to Chakraberty, doesn’t figure on the list.

Keeping it simple and honest, the author describes himself as a congenital sceptic who hates the idea of grudging Tendulkar’s fans the joy of worshipping their idol. But, as he says, it’s no fun to daydream all the time. “They may argue with the book’s conclusions, but as lovers of cricket they will appreciate the questions it raises.” One such question thus posed is a basic, familiar one: was Tendulkar the real master or was it Sunil Gavaskar? How well did he handle pressure compared to the other greats of his era?

The 205-page book is crammed with illuminating and disconcerting facts on Tendulkar’s career, depending on which side of the debate you are on.

Of his 49 ODI centuries India won the match 33 times, which is a 67pc success. But Saurav Ganguly got 22 centuries leading to 18 wins, or 82pc success. Three other persons who matched Ganguly’s performance are Ricky Ponting (83pc), Sanath Jayasuriya (85pc) and Saeed Anwar (80pc). When Virender Sehwag scored a century India lost only once, and Adam Gilchrist’s centuries returned 100 pc wins for Australia.

Dravid was considered a slow poke, but the book claims he had winning percentages equal to Tendulkar’s. How deceptive can perceptions be, particularly if they are crafted on a copywriter’s desk, whose next assignment could be to sell ice cubes to Eskimos.

The writer is Dawn’s correspondent in Delhi.

jawednaqvi@gmail.com