PUNJABI BY NATURE. Review on Yuvraj Singh

LIKE any brash 23-year-old, Yuvraj Singh lives life in the fast lane. You can catch up jiving with a Bollywood wannabe on a Mumbai dance floor, zooming down Chandigarh in his Honda City and, when in the mood, deigning to visit Page 3.

Once in a while — twice this past week actually, against both Zimbabwe and Australia — he reminds you what his flamboyance is actually all about. He just goes ballistic on the cricket pitch. Close your eyes and think of Lord’s, the Natwest final, 2002. Another sample of ‘‘take no prisoners’’ approach came in Sydney on January 22, against Australia. India eventually lost but ‘‘Yuvi’’ carted the Lees and the Gillespies, not to speak of the hapless Harvey, all over the park.

‘‘Tell people to believe in what they see, not what they hear about me,’’ Yuvraj has often said, nettled by the negative publicity he attracts off the field. Indeed, the adjectives ‘‘swashbuckling’’ and ‘‘talented’’ seem to fit him almost as easily as ‘‘arrogant’’ and ‘‘egotistical’’.

Blame it on destiny. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth — a silver bat in his hand, if you prefer — Yuvraj inherited his macho image from cricketer-turned-actor father Yograj Singh. Yograj was once Kapil Dev’s fast bowling partner, the other half of the deadly Jat attack. He didn’t quite make it big. Today, like Fred Tate, father of Maurice, he obliterates personal failure with his son’s success.

The indulgent upbringing had its disadvantages. It left Yuvraj with an image he’d rather not have had. He made a dream debut in the ICC Mini World Cup, Nairobi, 2000. Yet he evoked little sympathy when a bad patch followed. ‘‘He’s got an attitude problem,’’ shrilled the selectors, almost collectively.

Even so Yuvraj is nothing but resilient. As friends put it, if he could emerge stronger from a personal crisis — his parents Yograj and Shabnam Singh parted long ago — the vicissitudes of cricket meant nothing.

Behind that cocky facade sit many emotions. When Yuvraj hit his first limited overs century for India — against Bangladesh, Dhaka, 2003 — whom did he dedicate it to? Not to his parents, not to his coach but to Amandeep Nat, his best friend who passed away in 1994, not yet 16. ‘‘I wish Aman were alive to see me,’’ he said that day.

Navjot Sidhu might not agree, but in Yuvraj’s case statistics reveal a lot. He has crossed 50 15 times while playing one-day cricket for India; the team has won 14 of those matches. As advised by pschyologist Sandy Gordon, he has fashioned himself as the team’s ‘‘finisher’’ — not a mere accumulator. Forget the centuries, think of the number of times he’s been around when the winning runs have been hit. That’s not counting his quicksilver fielding.

Yuvraj is probably India’s cleanest hitter in the lower order since the great Kapil himself. No wonder English commentator Henry Blofeld calls him a ‘‘cross between Gary Sobers and Graeme Pollock with a dash of Frank Wooley throw in’’.

That’s huge praise but probably a bit over the top. True, left-handed batsmen are almost always a dream to watch, but doubts have been expressed over Yuvraj’s technical ability to handle Test cricket.

Earlier this season he was being considered for the Test opener’s job; but Virendra Sehwag’s success may have shut that door for the moment.

Nevertheless, in the shorter game on the field — and probably on longer nights playing the field — Yuvraj rocks. Even if his best buddy is said to be his mother.