Sachin Tendulkar – The face that sold

This is how one particular Sachin Tendulkar advertisement from the ’90s begins. As far as marketing is concerned,the commercial gave impossible a shot. For the product being sold is never seen and voice-overs don’t ever mention a brand. Yet,even without the crutch of words or images,they ended up achieving another impossible — that of narrating Tendulkar’s story within 60 seconds. Was he a religious experience for you too? And did the world around you stop every time he danced down the track? Just asking.

Back to the plot. Now,Tendulkar meets the ball. Beer mugs shake. And a child is frozen mid-run in his school corridor. The ball soars for a six and time wakes up from its slumber. Mugs shatter. The old lady weeps and the young nuns simultaneously cross their shoulders. Behind Tendulkar,the stumps slant and shrink into the Three Stripes of Adidas. The boy,now unfrozen,exhales and continues his run. Did you run as well,to the closest outlet and purchase every apparel on offer? Don’t lie.

The consumer in me did. It wanted to wear Adidas shorts,drink bottles of Pepsi and drive around in a Fiat Palio. On MRF tyres,no less. It craved to munch Britannia biscuits and then brush off the crumbs with Colgate’s dental set. It wanted to use VISA’s power to buy a Philips TV set,so that ESPN-Star Sports could be tuned into,where commercials regarding Canon cameras and Reynolds pens are aired. Every product Tendulkar endorsed,the consumer needed. And in his career,the cricketer didn’t just endorse plenty,the ads he featured in held a mirror to the different phases of his life.

That Adidas campaign was filmed in 1998,the year when he hit nine one-day centuries. That year was arguably his peak as a cricketer. A time when he casually charged everyone from Tom Moody to Shane Warne and dumped the ball into the stands. A time when India depended solely upon him. So much so that the ad does not feel the need to have a non-striker when Tendulkar is at the crease.

But long before he became a demi-god,Tendulkar was that child who grew up before our very eyes. The campaigns designed around him captured that. He was once that mischievous boy next door who asked his best friend and batting partner,Vinod Kambli,to go against their coach’s instructions to declare so that a world record partnership could be set. When Kambli joined him in the Indian team room two years later,Tendulkar was no longer the shy,hardworking teenager from the Power shoes days. But a prankster,who arm-wrestled his best friend for the last bottle of Pepsi in the dressing room.

Today,at 40,and as a father of two teenage children,Tendulkar appears in a rather sombre ad. Dressed in the unmistakable yellow of the brand’s colour,he says: “I’m sure your children have big plans too. We at Aviva will keep the promise of making your child’s big plans into a reality.” Tendulkar,though,wasn’t always selling insurance,you know. He was that young kid with big plans once,inspiring other kids.

So what is the secret of Tendulkar’s success,a nation asked after he made his international debut as a 16-year old. “Boost,” said some clever advertiser,coining perhaps the single-most famous tagline for a chocolate-flavoured milk mix. But long before Tendulkar said,“Boost is the secret of my energy”,in 1990,he made every kid proud of their playtime wounds.

In an ad shot just after he returned from Pakistan a hero,he is seen playing gully cricket with a bunch of children not much younger than him. He tries to hit one out of the park (or road) and a boy hurts himself by diving for the catch. Then Tendulkar whisks out a Band-Aid and wraps it around the scar. The message was clear: If you want to become a Tendulkar,go out and play and don’t worry about falling on your way. If you do,there’s always Band-Aid.

In a few years,these kids perhaps realised that it isn’t so easy to become the next Tendulkar. And none captured this emotion better than Pepsi with a rage of a campaign in 1999 that said,“If you can’t be him,ape him.” So a group of village children,all wearing Tendulkar masks,wait for the Pepsi-waala to arrive on his cycle. When he does,they peel off their masks for a gulp. But much to their surprise,behind a mask is the real Tendulkar himself,who,of course,gets the first sip even as Raghubir Yadav rounds up one of the earthiest renditions of Dil Maange More.

Those were,of course,the good days for both Tendulkar and the advertisers. Now,just days away from his retirement,the feeling is a bittersweet one. Britannia paid tribute to this mood with a reflective ad. Three bald boys are perched upon a pitch roller just beyond the boundary. Just as they open a packet of munchies,a batsman makes his way to the ground. “Where are you going? To practise your batting?” asks one. The batsman nods in the affirmative. “Don’t go,” says another. “You’ll bat well,get selected in the Indian team and score a lot of centuries. Soon,it will be 48,49,then you’ll break Tendulkar’s record.” The biscuit muncher cuts in. “National icon hai re. India ka God. Usko neeche mat la. Come sit,Britannia Time Pass kha (He is a national icon. India’s God. Don’t bring him down. Come and eat,Britannia Time Pass).”

The commercial didn’t feature Tendulkar. It still did the impossible and told his story.