I recently read an article that framed Virat Kohli’s brilliant century in a losing chase through the idea of India loving a “tragic hero.” The writing was poetic, and I get why that kind of storytelling attracts readers.
But the comparison inside it felt wrong, and honestly disrespectful to two of the greatest cricketers India has ever produced.
The article’s emotional logic was roughly this. Sachin Tendulkar was the lonely warrior of a weaker era. Virat Kohli is the confident superstar of a stronger era, so his greatness is “less tragic,” and therefore less mythic.
That narrative may sound clever, but it creates two problems at once.
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It rewrites Sachin’s era into a dramatic myth where he had no real support.
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It reduces Kohli’s era into a lucky setup where he simply benefits from a better team.
Both are lazy shortcuts. Both are unfair. And both fuel the worst kind of fan war, where the only way to praise one legend is to make the other look smaller.
1. The 90s myth. Sachin was not playing with amateurs
Yes, there were phases in the 1990s where Sachin carried impossible expectations. India was still building a modern winning machine, and Sachin often felt like the nation’s entire hope. That part is real.
But the jump from “heavy burden” to “no team” is where analysis becomes fiction.
Even before the “Fab Five” era fully formed, India had proven international cricketers who could win matches.
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Mohammad Azharuddin was a world-class batter and a highly successful captain in that period. Calling Sachin a “lone warrior” while ignoring Azhar’s quality makes the argument weak right away.
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Navjot Singh Sidhu, Sanjay Manjrekar, and later Ajay Jadeja were not beginners. On their day, they were match winners.
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India also had serious bowlers and competitors, not just passengers.
So if someone says “Sachin was all alone,” I understand the emotion behind it. But as a blanket statement, it becomes a romantic exaggeration. It turns a complex era into a single-person movie.
And that is not “respect.” It is nostalgia editing.
2. The late 90s and 2000s were not tragedy. They were a powerhouse
Now zoom out from the early 90s window and look at Sachin’s broader career. For a huge portion of it, Sachin shared the dressing room with a golden generation.
Whether people label it as “Fab Five” or simply India’s greatest batting core, the reality is obvious. Sehwag, Dravid, Ganguly, Laxman. That is not a tragic setup. That is a batting superpower.
So when writers keep repeating the “lone warrior” label as if it describes Sachin’s whole career, it becomes disrespectful to everyone who stood alongside him. It also reduces India’s golden era into a sad story, which is strange, because that era is exactly what built the base for India’s later dominance.
Sachin was not a victim of his team. He was the crown jewel of a strong cricket culture that was rising fast.
3. Kohli is not “lucky.” The team is stronger because he helped build that strength
Now let’s talk about the other side of the comparison.
A common line in these narratives is. Kohli has a better team, so it is easier for him to chase, to win, to look calm.
But that skips a massive truth.
The team’s mindset changed because of players like Kohli, not around them.
Kohli did not just show up and enjoy a ready-made winning culture. He helped build a culture of intensity, fitness, standards, and an obsession with results. He raised the baseline of what India expects from itself.
In the 90s, fans often watched with hope. If we fought hard, we were proud. If we lost after a great innings, we were emotional, but we accepted it.
In the 2010s, with Kohli walking out in a chase, fans did not just hope. Fans expected.
That shift in a nation’s psychology does not happen because someone is lucky. It happens because someone repeatedly delivers. Over years. Under pressure. In every condition.
So if someone wants to credit the “strong team” for Kohli’s success, then they should also give Kohli credit for shaping what “strong team” even means.
4. Different eras, different challenges. Same kind of greatness
Instead of forcing one emotional storyline, a better analysis is to admit the obvious. They faced different kinds of pressure, and mastered different monsters.
Sachin’s challenges included:
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carrying the weight of a cricket-mad nation when India’s overall system was still developing
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facing legendary bowlers across conditions, when ODI and Test cricket demanded a different kind of patience and survival
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being the symbol of hope for years, sometimes unfairly
Kohli’s challenges included:
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living in the social media era where every ball is judged instantly and permanently
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mastering high-pressure chases with modern ODI demands, where momentum shifts faster and mistakes are punished harder
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handling a leadership and expectation load where “being great” is not enough. You must be relentless
You do not need to rank which pressure is “harder.” They are different. Both are brutal. Both require greatness.
5. Why do we romanticize defeat, and punish the player who refuses to lose
The “tragic hero” concept sounds artistic, but it also reveals something about us as fans.
Sometimes we love the heartbreak story more than the clean win. A heroic 100 in defeat becomes poetry. A clinical chase becomes routine.
But this is where the framing becomes unfair to Kohli.
Kohli is not less great because he does not fit the tragic hero template. He is great precisely because he tries to kill tragedy before it is born. He wants the ending to be a win, not a beautiful loss.
Both are gifts. The second gift is not “less emotional.” It is just a different kind of dominance.
The bottom line
Stop using nostalgia to create a divide.
Let’s appreciate the evolution of Indian cricket instead of living in a past that never truly existed the way we retell it.
#ViratKohli #SachinTendulkar #IndianCricket #CricketAnalysis #TeamIndia #RespectLegends #NoFanWars