Monday, August 07, 2006

Son, you just dropped the cuppa ....

Mon Feb 10, 2003 10:32 am
The world cup starts with a bang ..
with Lara coming into his own and Klusener/Jayasurya blasting all
cylinders; I think some cricket'll be played this time.
There are men who fight and fight hard. There are men; who win
matches single handedly. There are shrewd leaders like hussain and
there are inspiring leaders like Hooper. There are bravehearts and there
are cunning foxes. There are dedicated/disciplined players and teams and
there are talented players and teams.

But conspicuous with his absence is the man who has all the above
mentioned attributes and much more. This is dedicated to him, the
Napoleon of modern cricket.

"If you can keep you head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you.
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;"

His eyes are inherited from the pirates his forefathers are hailed to be;
small and cringy. His face an expressionless mask marked with the creases
which could as well be scars of so many a knife fights. Take some other era
and he'll be capable to put a knife across your throat before you say "howzzat".
He's a fighter and a survivor with a panache for difficult situations. Unlike
his twin who is a gambler and king of vast fortunes of talent;
he is a hard worker and a fighter; fighter to death.

His brother is a early autumn morning's dream cricket has had.
And then cricket got up and saw leaves were falling aimlessly down;
was depressed at the loss and would've hung her head in defeat
but only for he was there like an old gardener planting new seeds with his
shaking hands ; knowing they'll any way die away;but with dreams of the unwithering
springin his eyes and unshakable faith in his dreams ..

And when his brother has hung up his willow and may be sipping on his beer
in some bar Or gambling gaily in some casino; he is still there; working on his
body to pull itself through one more year of toil which of course will lead to many
more such years.

"If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat these two impostors just the same"

Of course I'm talking about Steven Waugh; a quintessential fighter, a dreamer,
an achiever.
He's won the world cup for his country single handedly; Stood always there when
he was needed. Built up a formidable team. Saw boys turn into tough men;

"If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;"

taught these boys to fight hard and fight heartless;
always supported performances;always ridiculed reputations;
And when it was his reputation being ridiculed by the same selection committee
which for nearly a decade danced on his fingertips;
answered the ridicule again and again only by performances and not by a single
word.
Fought with his own boys with the same heartlessness he preached. And never lost
the common touch. Always knew who he was. stuck permanently to the things that were his:
his cap, his piece of red cloth; his place in the playing eleven; his captaincy
and his cricket.

"If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'"

Yes, it is just the will to hold on which keeps him going;
He's made for struggling/fighting and that's what he's doing and that's
what he'll do till the end and beyond it.

"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;"

"If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!"

Yes mate ... Make it count ...