Smallest Manageable Unit

“With 122 runs required from 18 overs and almost half the side back in the pavilion, the man that India needs, the captain walks in to bat,” the commentator announced as Swami and Jigneshbhai watched MS Dhoni take guard at the crease.

“This man will do it again,” Swami bet on the captain, like so many times earlier. “The target isn’t easy. How does this guy do it every time?” he asked further. I could see Swami walk up from his sofa and straddle paces in his living room with tight fists. Jigneshbhai watched him coolly while sipping his coffee. Swami was more tense than Dhoni, for certain. The only man as cool as the captain was, perhaps our wise friend, Jigneshbhai.

We had met at Swami’s house for the coffee because of the match today. Cricket was a non-negotiable, and the café often took a back seat. But the coffee didn’t. So there we were watching the match over our coffee, with the muffins in tow.

It did turn out eventually that, after many tense moments in which Swami quivered, India did win the match in the last over, with the captain still batting and hitting the winning runs.

“Finally, it is over,” Swami heaved a sigh of relief. “Why does he have to give us so much tension every time?” he asked, biting into the muffin.

“He doesn’t give it. You take it,” Jigneshbhai answered.

“Do I have any choice?” Swami retorted. “When one is overwhelmed by such a target, how can one not?” he asked.

I felt like reminding Swami that he wasn’t playing the match. But it was wiser to stay silent, I reckoned in these situations.

“But he is not overwhelmed by the target,” Jigneshbhai said.

“That is true. That’s why he is there, and I am here,” Swami laughed out loud. He turned his attention to the coffee and the muffin. We enjoyed it discussing the match for a few moments. That is when Swami’s mobile phone rang.

“Oh, it is Raichand,” Swami said with his eyebrows raised and shoulders suddenly drooping. “Why is he calling me at this hour on a holiday?” he asked with a frown on his forehead.

“Hello Sir,” he answered the phone. There was silence for a few moments during which all we could see was Swami nodding his head. We heard “Yes Sir” mutters every few seconds, interspersed with “But Sir” exclamations and “Ok Sir” nods.

Jigneshbhai and I looked at each other when we saw Swami walk in dismay towards us after hanging up. “My evening is gone. Maybe my night sleep too,” he murmured. We realised something had come up and decided to make a move.

“Where are you guys going?” Swami howled when he saw us stand up.

“Well, you have work, we thought?” Jigneshbhai asked.

“Yes, true,” Swami uttered in pain.

“And now, to take the winner’s trophy and the man of the match award, let me invite the Indian captain to come forward. MS Dhoni!” the voice from the television set distracted Swami with the presentation ceremony underway. It brought a momentary smile on Swami’s face as he forgot Raichand.

“MS, so another big chase? How did you manage it again?” the commentator asked. Swami was all ears and all eyes.

“I think what’s important is to break the number of runs into small, small criterion. You may say, okay, next two or three overs let’s look for 10 runs or 15 runs or even eight runs if someone is bowling really well. But at the same time it’s a team effort,” the captain replied.

“But there must be something else, right? It can’t be as simple as that to chase down big targets like these. Is there a secret formula?” the commentator probed the captain further.

“Well, not really. Once you break the big into many small, small targets, achieving those targets it just keeps giving you confidence, maybe 10 or 12 runs or 15 runs, but you gain confidence out of every target that you achieve,” the captain replied with a nonchalant smile.

“So just break it down? And without taking any risks? No big shots till the end?” the commentator persisted with his question.

“You get sixes and boundaries playing the big shot, but if you are batting at No.6, you know there’s no batsman after you. It sounds complex, but you keep breaking it down and in turn put the pressure back on the opposition,” he reiterated.

Swami was glaring at the television in awe of the captain. Jigneshbhai, not as big a cricket fan, looked alternately at Swami and the captain. When the proceedings ended, we decided to leave, wishing him luck for the evening’s work.

“Well, I am stuck with it, but it’s impossible to complete by tomorrow morning. I know that. You can’t expect a complex deliverable like this to be done in an instant,” Swami replied.

“Hmm, everything sounds complex till you start,” Jigneshbhai said. “Good luck,” he added and got up to wear his shoes.

I don’t know what it is about the wealthy old man. He seems to manifest himself out of nowhere. Even this time we didn’t notice when he crept on to us. It turned out that Swami’s door was open all the while. We noticed that the wealthy old man had been standing there. We don’t know how long he had been there but looked like he had been there for a while.

“Sir, will you have coffee?” Swami asked on noticing him.

“No, I am late,” he replied. “Plus you are busy now. Next time,” he added. It looked like he prepared to turn around and leave along with us. That’s when he walked towards Swami.

He put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Break it down to the smallest manageable unit, maybe one hour, one minute at a time.” He further added, “The small then takes care of the big,” leaving Swami and me with a point to ponder.

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