Fascinating Desperation

The ball whizzed past the cover fieldsman as Makhaya Ntini looked in utter disbelief at what had just happened to the well pitched up delivery of his, outside off stump and a hint short of good length. The entire cricketing fraternity watching the match would have expected any batsman to have left the ball go through to the wicketkeeper and allow the bowler to derive the weird pleasure of giving the batsman a “did ya see that?” look. Herchelle Gibbs was standing at covers and had the best chance of stooping the thunder bolt, but he managed to just watch it fly, two yards away from him, in awe, and they said he was the best in the business of fielding within the 30 yards. A.B. De Villiers, at point, immediately tried to mimic the shot he had just seen, secretly imagining if he could do something similar to that, at least once, in the 15 odd years of cricketing that he still has in him. Greame Smith didn’t bother to go up to his bowler to utter words of encouragement because he himself looked in desperate need of some. Somebody fetched the ball from the fence and Shaun Pollock, the seasoned campaigner, immediately was working on it to try and maintain the sheen that the bowlers require. One thing was sure, the ball was 3 overs old and the sheen was fast disappearing with every impact that it was receiving. Jacques Kalis was at second slip and was wondering if this, otherwise dominant and famed bowling attack of his team, would be left with any dignity by the close of play. His figures read 12-2-65-1. Like Navjyot Sidhu says, “statistics are like mini skirts, they hide more than what they reveal“. In the initial 8 overs of those 12, Kallis had conceded just 23. By now he probably wished he fell unconscious on the ground out of dehydration and they carried him away, before his captain would ask him to bowl again. He hadn’t by any means received the respect normally expected by a cricketer who is rated as the world’s best all rounder. Pollock had just been murdered the previous over and it was obvious that the bowler would be changed the next over. Andre Nel was the first change and he wondered from deep third man if he should start complaining of a hamstring. In his initial spell he was his normal aggressive self and had compulsively taunted, stared and bounced the batsman who had , then, just looked away, and was now staring right down his throat. It was PAYBACK time! The scoreboard read 364-7 and the tail ender was batting in total comfort with the unconquered batsman who had come in at no.3 and was now batting on 174. Ashwell Prince had missed a chance to get rid of this menace when he was on 23 but then it was a chance that some lenient gurus of the sport would dismiss as being called a ‘chance’. Now the Prince Himself had a chance to build his repertoire of making big hundreds and he was doing it in his unique grandiose style that has been unmatched since the days of David Gower. He was the prince of the island nations of Trinidad and Tobago and probably even the Gods watched from the heavens when he came in to bat with the maroon jersey and helmet and held his magic wand in his hands that read LARA 400. With all that was going around with the decline of Caribbean cricket, he was God’s gift to the game and they call him Brian Charles Lara.