Book Review: 'A Century is Not Enough' by Sourav Ganguly
An unstructured, ordinarily written, patchy and disappointing read.
I won’t say I had high expectations from Sourav Ganguly’s autobiography. Having followed his career minutely and observed him as a cricketer, I knew what the tone of the book would be like. But I was still interested in it as I was once a huge Ganguly fan.
Autobiographies of Indian cricketers haven’t really been great of late, including Sachin Tendulkar’s ‘Playing It My way’. Despite that, with Ganguly's book, I was expecting some great insights into the mind of a fighter and a leader.
Unfortunately, what I got was a mixed bag; mildly good in parts but disappointing overall. What’s worse is that it’s not even well written. More on that later.
Sourav Ganguly’s contribution towards Indian cricket is immense. He was one of best ODI batsmen of his time and became a great leader who molded Indian cricket in the right direction during a very tough period. It was under Sourav Ganguly’s leadership that a new, fearless Indian team emerged.
But…These are the things I already know about. I didn’t need another book to tell me this. What I wanted to know more was about Sourav Ganguly, the person. I wanted to get a peek of his formative years; his childhood in Kolkata, his school days and how the game caught his fancy. I also wanted a detailed view into his mind as a captain.
As a player, Ganguly was aggressive and never shied away from giving it back. But what I got in this book is incessant ramblings of a person who thinks he was wronged through most of his career and the world was out to get him. That he was the eternal victim who did everything right. Always.
Ganguly starts with his last day in international cricket – at Nagpur against Australia, 2008. From there we move on straight to his first ODI match in 1992. The chapter on his debut tour in Australia is interesting and it is the only one where he accepts his flaws and sacking gracefully.
We then move straightaway to his memorable debut Test match at Lord’s against England in 1996. There is hardly any mention of what Ganguly did in the intervening years and how he prepared himself mentally with the failure. And like I said, there is no mention of his boyhood cricket-playing days which I feel is a huge miss.
From there on, Ganguly reflects on the well-known events of his career – his performance against Pakistan at Toronto in 1997, his 183 against Sri Lanka in the 1999 World Cup, his elevation to captaincy, the 2001 Eden Test against Australia and the 2002 Natwest Tri-series win against England.
All these events are glossed over, punctuated with some anecdote here and there. I was incredibly disappointed that the 2001 Test series against Australia and the 2003 World Cup in South Africa – Ganguly’s biggest moments as a captain – are finished in a few paras. Hell, the 2001 Eden Test itself, with all its remarkable ebbs and flows, deserved a separate chapter. It’s a cardinal omission, in my view!
After this, there are pages upon pages on his strained equations with Australian coach Greg Chappell and how he was this evil monster. Ganguly goes on to highlight how Greg was ‘out to get him’ along with a few selectors. In fact, during the second half of the book it felt like the motive behind writing this book was to call out all those who had wronged him.
Throughout the book, Ganguly frequently projects himself as the victim and overglorifies his feats as a captain and batsman while completely overlooking his deficiencies.
For instance, he claims that the 2004 Test series victory in Pakistan was his biggest moment as a captain but casually ignores to mention the fact that Rahul Dravid was the stand-in captain in one of the Tests. He takes great pride in talking about his hundreds scored against Wasim Akram and Glen McGrath, as he should. But then, when he talks loftily about the drawn series against Australia in 2004, he fails to state that it didn’t feature the likes of Glen McGrath and Shane Warne in it. Shockingly, Ganguly completely ignores talking about the 2004 home Test series loss to Australia. How can his memoir exclude such an important event in his tenure?
Also, while Ganguly rambles on for pages about his sudden removal from the Indian team, he never, for once, mentions the poor form he had prior to that phase or at any point in his career. He brags about his hundred against Zimbabwe in 2005 before he was dropped, but never talks about the fact that he had scores of 21, 12, 12, 1 and 2 prior to that innings.
In fact, Ganguly also states how he was literally ‘forced’ to appear for an advertisement for Pepsi after his removal from the side where he had to say the lines ‘Mera Naam Sourav Ganguly. Bhule Toh Nahi?” For a man of Ganguly’s aggressive and no-nonsense nature, I find it hard to believe that anyone could twist his arms to do something he wasn’t at all interested in and was, in fact, embarrassed by.
Also missing are any talks about Ganguly’s technical deficiencies that he faced through his career. I was really keen on reading about his frailties against the short ball and his issues on the leg-side. Surely, talking about how he struggled against them and how he managed these chinks in his batting would have only made him appear like a normal sportsperson.
Sanjay Manjerakar’s ‘Imperfect’ was much better that way. At least Sanjay was candid enough to accept his personal and technical flaws in his memoir. With Ganguly, we do not get any of that.
Another issue that bugged me all through the book was the barrage of motivational nuggets he keeps on piling for the readers. And in doing so, Ganguly often produces a motivational story from tales of his wistful struggles and several magnified triumphs in his career. Some of his episodes of struggles were genuine and did serve as an inspiration in itself. But when he followed them up with quotes like “Take the danger head on and never give up” they kind of lost the taste.
Surprisingly, even though the book is co-authored by a senior journalist, it isn’t well written either and there is not a single sentence that I was impressed with in the way it was framed - they are all very mundane and ordinary. It is also riddled with numerous typographical and punctuation errors. A proper quality check was really needed in this one.
What I felt after finishing the book was that Ganguly was on this ego trip. He was one of the most influential cricketers of his time and could have presented an engaging and absorbing view of his life and career and, more importantly, of one of the most consequential phases of Indian cricket through his prism. But that opportunity is squandered as Ganguly disappoints with an overkill of a vainglorious look of himself.
I have a feeling that this book was written in a rush, much like Sachin Tendulkar’s ‘Playing It My way’. It appears that Ganguly sat down and chalked out all the things about himself that would present him as a victim and an unrelenting champion, while conveniently ignored some of the more uncomfortable aspects of his career. And that is where this autobiography is incomplete and patchy, while also being unstructured and ordinarily written as a whole.
Ganguly was a fascinating character and people loved him even with his flaws. No one can take away all that he has achieved for Indian cricket. However, I didn’t want a repeat of all the well-known tales about him. I wanted a sincere account of his life and career. While definitely a better read than Sachin’s book, ‘A Century is Not Enough’ left me feeling rather displeased.
I will take a break from reading any modern Indian cricketer’s autobiography now. Tired of being disappointed!