Dec.23.2012
Today I am
paralyzed as far as cricket is concerned. In fact for me, today the game of
cricket itself has paralyzed beyond the possibility of any recovery.
Wearing the blue
jersey there was that man who would swiftly go back and across and then
standing on his toes would produce that inimitable back foot punch through the
covers, for the balls pitched up he would lean forward with his arms drawing
the arc in the air unleashing that majestically delightful cover drive, then
there was that straight drive, with a still head, a mere push per se, but so
graceful and so perfect that even an artist would find it difficult to put it
on his canvas.
Yes, today the man
behind all these aesthetics has decided to hang up his boots. Along with him,
many like me are saying adieu to the world of one-day international cricket.
For us cricket without aesthetics is like idli without sambar, vada without chutney
and chaai without cheeni all served together - and for us he was the only man
left to provide us the treat we are looking for, with all the ingredients right
in place and in their perfect proportion.
Thanks Master for all those
stories you crafted for us – even in the depths of dementia, we will be
greeting our grand-children telling them the tales you have weaved – just for
the contemporaries like us who are lucky enough to be born in your era.
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