"Maybe the BCCI should just arrange a game against Bangladesh and get it over with."
Well, on 16 March 2012, the inevitable happened, and Sachin Tendulkar scored one of his most pain-staking centuries. India lost, but it didn't matter: Sachin reached his century of centuries.
This was not how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be in the World Cup semi-final against Pakistan, then in the World Cup final against Sri Lanka, at Lord's... then at Mumbai, Eden Gardens, and the MCG on Boxing Day.
It was certainly not supposed to be in Dhaka, against Bangladesh, in a meaningless ODI tournament - aren't they all? - on a flat track, with a tucked single to square leg, with fielders leaking runs, and the bowling as friendly as you could wish for.
Still, Tendulkar struggled. He took 36 balls to move from 80 to 100, at a time when India should have been accelerating and looking for 330+. They ended up on a below-par 289, which should have still been plenty had India not been so lacklustre in the field.
That it came in a losing cause, and that Tendulkar's knock - certainly his second fifty, which took 75 balls, when India were just one wicket down - quite possibly contributed his team's loss, will not be lost on neutral observers.
Bangladesh deserved their win, and only the most jingoistic of Indian fans would not applaud Mushfiqur 'The Little General' Rahim for his stunning fightback, but the bulk of the delight in watching this young side slash their way to victory lied in the delicious schadenfreude of the occasion.
For so long, critics have decried India's batsmen for putting personal landmarks ahead of their team's main aims. Therefore, when the most significant landmark came along, it is fitting that the self-interest behind the knock was at its most self-apparent.
The Indian reaction to Sachin's hundredth hundred has been one of celebration, yet also one of befuddlement - albeit muted. Yet, in a country where any criticism of Sachin is punishable by a trip to the local guillotine, there was a palpable sense of uneasiness about the way that Sachin reached his century.
Was it selfish, in the way that he trickled to his hundred? Yes.
Was it necessary? Yes.
Any criticism of Sachin's selfishness must be qualified by its context. The milestone had become a millstone around Sachin's neck, and it was all too apparent in his post-innings interview with the only man in the stadium with worse hair than him, Ramiz Raja.
"There was a lot of pressure on me...everybody had their opinion about it," said Tendulkar. "Even when I was in the hotel, the room service guys were telling me what to do."
For all the Indian fans deifying him, it was all too obvious that here was a man on the precipice of history, yet one edging towards the end of his career, all too aware of his own mortality.
It remains to be seen whether Tendulkar pushes on and re-enters a purple patch at the fag-end of his career, but with this weight off his shoulders, one suspects that there is one last flicker in Sachin's flame.