For Sachin, the death could not have come at a more untimely moment. His father, a well-known Marathi poet and college teacher, had been discharged from hospital two months ago after undergoing angioplasty and was on the road to recovery. Taking time off from his busy cricket schedule, Sachin had been at his father's side during the operation and recovery period and used to accompany him for daily evening walks. "It's a big loss for Sachin, a chasm near impossible to bridge," says his school buddy and cricketer Vinod Kambli. "But he has tonnes of steel in him and I'm sure he will come out stronger."

A great fan of Sachin's batting prowess, Ramesh had encouraged and guided his son during his formative years. Though he could never bear to watch Sachin bat because the tension was too much for him, his pride in his son was more than obvious. Every time Sachin scored a century, about which Ramesh would hear from someone, he would organise a small celebration. A private and shy man, nothing had changed for him after Sachin became the country's most successful batsman and his life remained thoroughly academic and literary.

After reading a simple message put outside the Tendulkars' residential block requesting people not to disturb the family by offering condolences, Mumbaiites stood in silent solidarity with Sachin and the family. Only a few people were privy to Sachin's innermost thoughts-whether he will return to play in the World Cup or fulfil the 12-day mourning period. Jaywant Lele, BCCI secretary, said, "Sachin has indicated to the team manager that he will be back for the World Cup campaign. He may leave right after the funeral but that is his decision." As for the World Cup, majority of the Mumbaiites feel there will be another occasion.

-Robin Abreu

THE FANCIED TEAMS
PLAYING TO FORM

Can the South Africans be stopped? They have match winners in every part of their team and also field some brilliant youngsters. They have added passion to their planning, releasing the rawness that is an eternal part of man and his games. Cricket matches cannot be won on a blackboard. They depend upon stirring deeds in the heat of the moment, the sort of performances Shaun Pollock and Lance Klusener produced against the deteriorating Sri Lankans.

Nonetheless the Australians and Pakistanis need not despair. Though Steve Waugh's team has been spluttering along like an especially ancient Ambassador it retains its hard edge. Patently the Australians are on tenterhooks. Every team is scared of losing in the early rounds and returning with tail drooping between the legs. The loss to New Zealand showed they are vulnerable.

Australia's main weakness has been its attack. Glenn McGrath is being used as a change bowler in an attempt to contain the middle of the innings. This has been the sole innovation of an otherwise predictable tournament dominated by swing bowling. And it has not worked.

Australia's battting has been a little tentative. Ricky Ponting is an important man because he can let loose the carefree side of his team. Older players are inclined to be crafty and careful. Australia need Ponting to unleash the same forces as Shoaib Akhtar has done in the Pakistani party. So far he has not fulfilled his potential but he is brilliant in the field and clearly a man for this role.

Not that the batsmen have had an easy time because the ball has been swinging around. This has been a mixed blessing for the captains because it brings wickets and also an embarrassment of extras. Indeed it is hard to recall as many extras appearing since Spartacus was last filmed.

The Pakistanis have been their old mercurial selves. They resemble a mischievous child always in trouble and always finding a way out. They live on the edge of their game. Akhtar does not merely try to dismiss his opponents, he is a hurricane that sends stumps and batsmen flying to all quarters. They are an extraordinary, gifted team but they may lack the cement provided by Javed Miandad.

The Pakistanis are powerful because they can take wickets at any moment and their batsmen can score heavily against any attack. They are not fellows to be tied down. No one will fancy playing against them, not even the South Africans.

-Peter Roebuck

Even media talk can be part of a calculated campaign, like when Zimbabwe coach David Houghton announced with a grin a few days ago that his team is relying on the England match to be their trump card. When the interviewer asked him what England should do about it, he advised them to get their three first round wins against someone else. All these seem fair play to me, legitimate psychology and creative tactics. What is once outrageous, even lawless, becomes the stale orthodoxy of the future. Cricket has had to evolve, or should one say explode, from a game of underarm bowling (hence the word) via round-arm to the overarm, which has been legal since 1835. I prefer the audacity of trying something new to the dullness of routine repetition.

So what are we to say about South Africa and the Bob Woolmer intercom ploy? Should we applaud his ingenuity? Or deplore his trickiness? Is this an acceptable extension of cricket in the electronic age or the undermining of an intrinsic and precious aspect of the game?

Some say the South Africans ought to have cleared their new ruse with the ICC before introducing it in a prestigious event like the World Cup. I'm not so sure. My immediate response was that it's a moot point whether South Africa were obliged to disclose this idea. What they did was not against any laws or playing conditions of the game or of the competition, even if this was only because none had thought of doing it before. On the whole I applaud their willingness to try it and their bravado in carrying it through.

However, on second thoughts, I do notice something sly. Had I actually been in Woolmer's or Hansie Cronje's boots, I might have demurred when it came to the crunch. Their secrecy may have been not only about wanting to keep a presumed advantage over the other teams but also because they expected the practice to be banned. I was certainly glad the practice was detected early on in the competition, before administrators or opponents could begin to feel conned.

Woolmer will probably say the intercom is the cricketing equivalent of the recent nautical decision to give up the Morse Code. However, more is at stake, though it's not easy to argue the point without recourse to simple nostalgia or conservatism, the role of the captain. We now accept what to earlier generations would have seemed somehow polluting, the proliferation of managers, coaches and advisers. The captain's role has gradually been diminished.