Come on down, Sachin

Remember childhood, and making shadows of animals on the walls with fingers? It's fun doing batting line-ups too. Think of the Australian one-day team and a giant trapezium, broad side up, begins to appear. South Africa are an hourglass, sturdy-topped, strong-bottomed and slender through the centre. Zimbabwe are like some snake-charmer's been, outlandishly wide at Andy Flower and tapering rapidly on either side of him. Bangladesh are a barely visible strand with a tiny knot at Habibul Bashar.

And there's India The Inverted Pyramid. Sachin Tendulkar and Sourav Ganguly, then a sputter, and then a stop. Tendulkar and Ganguly are already the most successful opening partnership in one-day history: 5500-plus runs, average 50, utterly gorgeous to behold, the one perfect thing in the team, a chest-swelling theme. Suggesting that they must be split is like wearing a t-shirt that says "Daft. Anti-national. Doesn't even know that if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

But it is broke, silly. Look at the larger picture. Look at the middle order and don't pretend as if Ajay Jadeja and Mohammad Azharuddin meant nothing. Look at the fact that India's success-rate when the two have opened (about 45 per cent) is easily lower than the composite figure over the last 10 years. There is a hole in the middle and Tendulkar must be asked to fill it. It is not defensive or defeatist. In surgical parlance, it's known as transplant; an economist might call it optimisation of resources.

The theory that Tendulkar should bat first-up to give him maximum number of overs couldn't be more ridiculous. "If he bats 50 overs, India will be okay." Of course India would, but it's happened only once in eight years. It's not only a ludicrous ask of any single individual, it also goes to show there's no life after plan A.

Cricket has grown since the 1996 World Cup. Openers are not the be-all and end-all. They are still vital, because it requires a skill to exploit early restrictions. But it takes a far rarer skill to break open the door where there exists no crack. Michael Bevan, Chris Cairns, Lance Klusener (circa 1998-2000), they are the real MVPs because they thrive when no one else can stand the heat. The middle and the end, between overs 15 and 50, is where cricket matches are swung.

West Indies, they could afford Greenidge and Haynes at the top. They had that whats-his-name, Richards, lurking below, not to mention Clive Lloyd and/or Richie Richardson. Heck, even Jayasuriya and Kaluwitharana had Aravinda de Silva and Arjuna Ranatunga. India, by contrast, have a mixture of hesitant campaigners and fresh-faced youth.

That is why Tendulkar should be geeing himself up for phase three of his one-day career: back in the middle order, at No. 4 or No. 3, as the situation demands. He is best equipped to pace the mid-innings, best equipped to absorb pressure should there be an early collapse, best qualified to never lose the plot, and crucially, the best man to finish. His replacement at the top should be Virender Sehwag - great eye, big shots, albeit a trifle iffy - who can allow himself the unbridled freedom that Tendulkar could when he first took up opening.

The team needs balance. The effects of top-heaviness are well chronicled. Dolly Parton's feet were small, it was suggested, because things don't grow in the shade. India, top-heavier still, are in peril of not even finding their feet when the World Cup comes around.