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Requiem to agony
So close. A matter of centimeters, one more ounce of spunk to a bat that flashed so gallantly. To have come so tantalizingly near… The agony of falling short by the slimmest of slim margins; the agony of emptiness.
And yet there was this West Indies team in this World Cup, a pantheon of phantoms: spectacular, then mediocre, then miserable, and last magnificent. And with that, comes the exhalation of a people reduced to sickly pallor despite the power of an enriching sun; lovers of cricket and their cricketing heroes.
Those heroes tried; a learning experience for many who should be back. Fanatic with a life and death fervor, this regional crowd is not. Guyana has its own agonies from different priorities. That particular spectator fever is the proud monopoly of the unabashed sub-continent folks.
In this part of the world, the memories of what could have been will be spoken of for a long time; of the missteps where there should have been none, such were the moments not capitalized upon; of the margins for error, which were nonexistent, such was the superior caliber of the teams competing in this tournament of champions; and, in spite of all of that, of the final aiming for glory beyond the boundary. Such was the ‘Boult’ of lightning that struck at West Indian hearts wherever they palpitated on that memorable English Saturday in a summer that will still linger when the last ball has been bowled, and the last crescendo of awe and applause would have faded.
The fellas will grow into a seasoned machine; they have to; if only to take their rightful place in a world from which they have been long locked out, to which they belong, and at the pinnacle. An aging and aged legend is on his storied way out. It was not to be the storybook ending, so much a part of the fabric and fables of West Indies cricket.
He has given his youth and his blood, this master of the world that strode as an authentic Jamaican colossus. There has to be more like him; more to assume the mantle of more multi-dimensional teams. The raw materials appear to be there; somehow, the right combination of talents and savvy and sharp, sweet skills have proven to be elusive. This must be made right.
What is the formula? Different teams for different formats? Develop bench strength from emphasis and keenness on junior teams and giving them the worldwide exposure through testing conditions for seasoning and pitch craft?
The science and demands of the game have changed; the tempo, temperaments, and texture, too. A different kind of players is called for; and so, too, is the kind of stewards responsible for this proud heritage allowed to languish for too long while the dissensions and disparate personalities have taken center stage, to the detriment of the sport.
Some hard questions must be faced: too much CPL? What about IPL? Of course, there has to be balancing regard for right to ply trade and to earn an honest living, versus restraint of trade. In addition, some hard realities have to be faced at the regional level: individual countries and the regional as a whole will find it insurmountably difficult to compete at the top level in football, to field an eleven that makes adversaries sit up and shiver. West Indies cricket does just so.
The West Indies as a cricketing power, faded as it may be, of late not regarded as much as it once was, and clearly lacking in the mandatory completeness and confidence to overpower the higher powers, is still feared and inspires guardedness whenever it takes the field with deliberation and conviction.
Bigger men shrink; larger teams get out of the way. It is the way it should be. Time to regroup to get to that place. No apologies necessary. Thanks for the effort. At bottom: overachievers!
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