The Man Who Could Make Time Stand Still

When you hear deeply agitated fans whine about Kevin Pietersen’s lack of ‘sportsmanship’ in throwing down the stumps to bring the career of Brian Charles Lara to a premature, run-out induced end or express disgust at Pietersen's ridiculously long-drawn celebration at Lara's fall, you know you're talking about a man truly remarkable. And I’m not talking about Pietersen. That Lara's last innings had to end in a run-out was, in many ways, a perfectly symbolic climax to a quite special journey. For one thing, the fact that no bowler could get him out in his last innings reaffirmed Lara's complete and utter dominance over the best bowlers in the business through the years. For another, his teammate Marlon Samuels's very questionable call for a run which clearly didn’t exist was a painful reminder of the lack of support Lara has received from his compatriots throughout his career. And, perhaps most poignantly of all, Lara's controversial dismissal gave the millions of viewers something to talk about, awakening us quite emphatically to the simple truth that all that Lara really stood for during his entire career was entertaining the masses.

I must admit that I didn't quite think of all these things the moment that Lara got out. Right then, all I could think of was how truly horrid a person Marlon Samuels was. The fact that run-outs like the one to have struck Lara today are quite commonplace in cricket or that Lara himself may have been responsible for many a teammate's demise through bad calling didn't quite register in my mind. Nothing else mattered then, except that Lara was out, never to return to hold a bat again. The packed stands gave him a resounding ovation as he departed, but Lara was clearly furious at not being able to produce one more of his magical knocks in his final match. This was hardly a surprise, considering his amazing ability to rise to the special and most significant occasions, an ability that he’s demonstrated with astonishing ease so often in his career.

To say that Lara made batting look beautiful would be saying the obvious, and the oft-repeated. The thing that has always struck me as odd about Lara is that when off the field, his body movements seem a little uncoordinated and disorganized. Even his stance is a little peculiar, a little crooked, with the feet much too close together. It's almost as if his body was made for the cricket field, because the same disorganized frame suddenly acquired a grace that was almost balletic when he held a bat. This may have been repeated a million times before, but Lara's strokeplay was indeed absolute eye-candy - the elegance that he brought to a simple cover drive or the poetic artistry of his movements when he came down the track to the spinners was, there's no other word for it - breathtaking. Even his leaving of the ball was lyrical, as were his defensive blocks - batting looked more like exalted dance than a humdrum matter of scoring runs when he was at the crease. And yet, the power and momentum that he packed into most of his shots would have made Mohammad Ali proud; perhaps this had something to do with that extravagant backlift or the whiplash motion of his wrists, because Lara was anything but raw muscle while batting. No, raw muscle was for mere mortals, not for the colossus that was Brian Lara.

There have been many who have pointed out that Lara was nowhere close to a flawless genius. His mood swings, lack of discipline, arrogance, disdain for rules, and most importantly, rather poor captaincy skills have invited as much scathing criticism as his batting skills have earned awed praise. But what his detractors don't get is that when gifts as extraordinary as Lara has been blessed with find expression in such rapid and spectacular manner as two monumental, record-breaking innings of 375 and 501 mere weeks apart, and that too just 3 years into his young career, it becomes almost impossible to lead an uneventful life. Lara couldn't possibly have discarded his innate flamboyance and penchant for the impossibly glorious in exchange for a disciplined, run-machine career. And he didn't. But we must only be thankful for that, because I scarcely think any cricketer, with the possible exceptions of Shane Warne and Viv Richards, has inspired as passionate a fan following that cut across lines of culture and country as has Lara, which had as much to do with his logic-defying ability to win matches single-handedly as his refusal to conform to norms and follow the straight path. His indescribably brilliant innings of 153 against Australia at Barbados may be remembered for many centuries to come, but so will his child-like knock against Kenya in the 1996 World Cup that prompted calls for his head from many. It takes the good, the bad and the ugly to make a legend, and Lara made sure his mesmerized audience witnessed it all. His incredibly inadequate leadership skills perhaps diluted some of the joy that cricket followers all over the world, and particularly in the Caribbean, derived from his career, but genius must be granted its excesses. Besides, there are some who believe that the reason Lara failed so abysmally in arresting the decline in West Indian cricket through any semblance of inspired leadership is that he could never quite come to terms with the less prodigious abilities of his teammates. A classic case of extraordinary talent being surrounded, even overawed by mediocrity, something which could never really have been experienced by the great captains of history, the Clive Lloyds and the Steve Waughs. Raw, untamed, unfettered genius like Lara's comes only once in a century, but such remarkable flair doesn’t always translate into great team-management prowess, especially if the team you’re asked to manage is abysmally insipid. Ask Sachin Tendulkar.

At the end of the match, some of the English fans in the stands began to shed tears. No, England didn’t lose the match – they actually won by 1 wicket, but this day, all emotions were for Lara. Time seemed to stand still, as it did so often when he was batting, as he walked around the ground, waving to the spectators, shaking hands with the English players, wiping a stray tear or two off his cheek. His grief seemed a little incongruous at such a momentous occasion, but after a moment or two of reflection you realize that it was only appropriate. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that it is Lara who has been defined by the game of cricket, and not the other way round, and that it must have been terribly hard for him to let go of the one thing that roused his passion and emboldened and inflamed him to attain heights dizzying, dazzling, delirious. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that it was not cricket that lived for Lara, but Lara who lived for cricket.

They say that Lara’s most outstanding achievement remains, to this day, his reclaiming of the record for the highest Test score in an innings, exactly ten years to the day he first created it, on the same ground and against the very same opposition. Indeed, this is one feat so awe-inspiring that it is difficult to imagine anyone doing anything to even come close to matching it, ever. In fact, when Matthew Hayden had held the record for a brief while, I remember thinking how frightfully dramatic it would be if Lara were to regain the record, and then brushing the thought off as impossible, even for Lara. I need hardly mention how completely stunned I was when Lara actually went out and shattered the record only six months after Hayden’s feat, with all the poise of an indefatigable champion. And yet, statistics and great cricketing moments mean so little when you talk about someone like Lara. He is one sportsperson who has truly transcended his records and emerged as a legend so full of mystique and wonderment that it is beyond the realms of any kind of numbers. He is the man who, when in the mood, could do anything. And I mean anything. He may have been nicknamed ‘Prince’, but he was more majestic, more glorious, more splendid, more sublime and more imposing than any emperor could ever hope to be.

Batting Elegance: Soon to be a Lost Art?

When the brilliant fade away, the mediocrity of mortals begins to look distasteful. The Super 8 match between the West Indies and South Africa was, perhaps, a lesson in the importance of discipline and efficiency in modern one-day cricket, but it was also a bleak reminder of how much poorer the game will be when the current vogue of robust ball-thwacking inevitably pushes the virtuosity of the artists into the sidelines. Or one particular artist, to be more precise. We all knew that Brian Lara was going to retire from the one-day game after the World Cup - everyone was sad about that; but to see him confirm it with such pitiable defeat written all over his face was positively depressing. The most painful thing about the entire episode was not the fact that Lara's team got more insipid as the tournament progressed or that the captaincy skills of Lara himself suddenly and alarmingly reached rock-bottom; what was most sad was that cricket, at least one-day cricket, is on its way to saying goodbye to one of its most celebrated maestros ever with so little grace.

I'm not talking here, of course, of any lack of respect on the part of any cricketing figure towards Lara; the people all around have been most courteous and deferential, and rightly so. What I'm talking about is the manner in which physicality and brutal strokeplay are rapidly taking over the game. South Africa's explosion towards the end of the match may have had quite a lot to do with Lara's potentially-legendary (and not in the right way) decision to delay the third Powerplay till the 45th over, but it was the ruthless savagery of Mark Boucher and Herschelle Gibbs that effectively ended the game as a contest. And this has been the trend for quite some time now - Australia-South Africa matches are the best examples of the new cricketing dogma that power is joy, and even New Zealand have been turning to this unpleasant mantra through its McCullums and Orams. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those stuck-up purists who would rather see a batsman play out ten consecutive maidens with 'grit and patience' than hit a series of spectacular sixes. But I do believe that tearing into bowlers without the least hint of subtlety or elegance is more than a little disturbing, if not annoying. And sadly, with the exit of Lara, and the imminent retirement of Sachin Tendulkar, there won't be too many in the cricketing world to stand up to the unrelenting wave of ugly but effective ball-pounding that is threatening to turn cricket into a slower version of baseball.

Coming back to Lara, it's amazing how so many people brush off his one-day career as 'average' or 'nothing splendid' just because he's played very few games and scored no centuries in the last two and a half years. Most people tend to forget that Lara had semi-retired from the one-dayers two years ago and only returned as a regular member of the team when he was made captain. Before his hiatus, he had been as thoroughly proficient a one-day player as any, and certainly a lot more destructive in his approach and style of play than he is now. And his stats up to the year 2004 will happily confirm that. However, ever since he's entered his third stint as captain, he's largely tried to stay away from the spotlight and give his lesser-known colleagues the chance to become match-winners of their own, albeit with incredibly poor results. That the likes of Chris Gayle, Ramnaresh Sarwan, Shivnarine Chanderpaul and most infuriatingly of all, Marlon Samuels, have been unable to respond to Lara's pushes and prods (I'd perhaps leave Gayle out of this list - he was, after all, the Man of the Series in the Champions Trophy), is an apt reflection of Lara's entire cricketing life, both in Tests and one-dayers. He's never really had anyone to support, or even comprehend, his immense genius, and he has an astonishing tally of heartbreaking losses to show for that. Whether he would have been the greatest batsman of the post-Bradman era if it hadn't been for the remarkable incompetence of his teammates is perhaps too futile an argument. However, the fact that he has, in spite of the ruins around him, managed to carve out his own glittering place among the pantheons of cricketing greats is testimony to his incandescent brilliance. And besides, there's one thing that no one can ever take away from Lara - when he was on song, there wasn't a single batsman in the very long history of cricket who could match the sheer splendour of his strokeplay. Which is saying quite something.

Anyway, I think I should go back to watching the Australia-Ireland match. It's turning out to be quite ridiculously one-sided. I love supporting the Australians - it feels so much better to be rooting for guys like them instead of the appallingly pathetic West Indian team (save for Lara, of course). Ah, the Australian innings is just about to get underway, which means there'll be plenty of monstrous ball-thwacking from Hayden and Co. We'll miss you, Brian Charles Lara.

Machine and Magician

First things first - the tennis world has just been witness to a shock of the most ridiculous order. Roger Federer, that man/machine who has been known to make the Roddicks and Hewitts of this world look like dazed amateurs, has been defeated, twice in succession, by somebody called Guillermo Canas. No, I did not just make up that name - Canas is actually a tennis player, a reasonably proficient one, in fact, and has been in the news recently in connection with a doping scandal. Now, however, he's got a unique, possibly never to be repeated distinction - that of having beaten Federer in two consecutive matches that were NOT tournament finals, and that too in the scary era of Total Federer Domination. I guess Federer has simply got tired of winning - and I also strongly suspect that he doesn't want Rafael Nadal to be spoken of as the only player who has a statistical advantage over him. Maestros have all kinds of quirks about them - don't ask me to give a reasonable explanation for Federer's bizarre behavior. Let's just rejoice, instead, at the prospect of a second consecutive Masters tournament in which the likely champion's name is not something that you can give mechanically if asked to in the middle of your deepest slumber.

Moving on to less shocking things, West Indies went down to Australia in the first game of the Super Eights that was spread over two days because of unfortunate weather. And for what seemed like the millionth time, Brian Lara was the only top order batsman who showed any kind of resistance to the ruthless Aussies. His innings today was typically sublime - under immense pressure, having to undo plenty of the damage inflicted by his startlingly lethargic teammates, he rose to the challenge as magnificently as only he can, standing tall amongst the miserable ruins. Sigh! If only he'd been blessed with a marginally better team, we'd have been privileged witnesses, for the last 16 years, to the unadulterated wizardry of possibly the most talented batsman to have ever walked this earth. Instead, we've been saddled with a contradictory, disturbed genius, who's probably never known what it feels like to score a scintillating double century in a match AND win the match. Greatest tragedy of our cricketing time? Without the slightest doubt.

The Magnificence Of Brian Lara!

So finally I jump on to the bandwagon of the big bad world of blogs! Ok, I've been staring at that first line for fifteen minutes now, I need to write something! This isn't as easy as I thought! I'm using too many exclamation marks! Somebody stop me!!!!!!!

Ok, back to some measure of sanity. I've been rather happy the past couple of days because Brian Lara scored a gorgeous century against Pakistan. For some reason, I get a very personal satisfaction whenever my favorite sportsperson or team plays well, so you can imagine how unimaginably thrilled I was when Brian Lara, the one sportsperson whom I admire most of all, got down to some seriously majestic stroke-playing. If there's one reason for people who think cricket is a boring sport to start watching it, then it has to be Lara's batting. Lara's regal drives, his lightning footwork (I've never figured out how he actually manages to remain standing with all the complicated movements that accompany every single shot of his, even the defensive blocking ones), his scintillating cuts and pulls - they're simply out of the world (or at least, out of the cricketing world). How very unfortunate then that this may well be the last year of his cricketing career. He'll be leaving behind a West Indian team that he's tried to very lovingly nurture into a competitive one, but has so far only succeeded in making it an almost mediocre one. Maybe being a brilliant captain was never a part of Lara's destiny, or maybe the West Indian players are just too pathetic to be playing international cricket. One thing remains certain, however-Lara will forever remain etched in cricket lovers' mermories as the batsman who made batting look beautiful. The Pontings and Tendulkars may come and go, but a Lara comes only once in a millennium.

Alright, I think I need to stop the hurrahs about Lara, because I'm pretty sure that last remark that had something to do with a certain Mr. T will not go down well with many cricket fans. But this is just my opinion, and this is my blog, so I think people can understand if I took a few liberties every now and then. So is there anything else I can talk about besides Lara? Maybe I'll do that in my next post. Hmm, I've just read this post, and it sounds a little boring to me. So what oh what shall I do? Nothing, I've decided, other than actually publishing this one and writing a more interesting one the next time. Talk about deciding the obvious.