How do you not let your opponent win?” I asked. “That’s not how I approach the game. I have faith for my side,” he responds. “If I see you have a chance to win, then we’ll meet.”
“What do you mean?” says Suresh.
“Well, I can win my chance of winning,” he says. It’s a good thing he’s going to have a chance: He knows from experience how much time is involved in such a game. And he also knows that he can’t win if he doesn’t believe in his team.
“My team is not going to win unless I play well,” he says. So he plays up. He plays confidently and has a decent shot.
But then Kishan calls out, “Are you a team-player?”
“No,” he says. “I’m not. I’ve only played for India,” says Suresh, as he’s being led outside the pitch. They are in the parking lot of a nearby restaurant where Kishan and VVS Laxman of the team are eating (or something). Suresh sits with a big grin on his face. “I know what I did today. I did it well,” he tells me.
“No, but what about tonight, sir”, I say.
“Not today,” Suresh says.
“Yes, sir, you will play tomorrow,” I respond.
“It’s a match, sir. Tomorrow I will play tomorrow. That’s the thing. You can’t worry about it. But tomorrow I have to play. Tomorrow I have to win. Tomorrow I have to play well.”
Suresh does play a good game, scoring a hundred in his own ball, in this match. But there’s something else going on in him: What’s his deal? What is his problem?
I asked a lot of people. This is a man named Rangun. He’s from Uttar Pradesh, one of the poorest states in India. But he told me this and he’s not alone: He has no son. That’s a big deal in this country. I don’t know how many people will agree with me. I mean, that’s his problem. And he wants to solve it or at least understand the problem. And he says he can help solve it and also understand the problem. We all have one. What we don’t know is why