The red headed boy next door

He runs in smoothly, very loose and relaxed, he is so composed and cool that he gives an impression that he is confused.
The wiles of hiding the shine behind the other arm are not for him. His right arm shows the cherry loud and clear. It is going to be the inswinger.

The best batsman in the world is waiting for the delivery, relaxed at the crease, the bat resting lightly besides his pads like a magic wand.
Head still, thoughts focussed, like the ball which is static at the top of its flight, just holding it before he decides which way the ball
should be hit as soon as it is released.

Bowler’s red head shines in the oblique summer sun of the western hemisphere. His approach to the popping crease is also breathtakingly smooth.
He does not have those extravagant jumps before the final delivery. His left foot lands so near to the stumps that it is obvious he is going to fall into the stumps
and disturb the tranquil picture. But within a fraction of second he manages to still maintain his stance, right arm is stretched along the right leg,
left shoulder comes across, left leg lands exactly in line with the off stump and the ball is delivered almost from the top of the stumps before the
bowler glides to the left side, surprising sparing the stumps, the ump and the danger zone.

It lands half a foot away from the off stump, exactly on good length, calculated with the batsman's height and reach taken into consideration.
Any other bowler and he would be flicked through the midwicket for a single. But respect is paid where it is due. The batsman has read it beautifully even
before the ball pitches, he gets on the front foot, executing one of his compact air tight defences. Not even a daylight can pass through the front pad
and bat. But surprisingly the ball does, and takes only the one thing that was possible, top corner of the off bail.

The ball has sped just enough to beat the bat meeting the pad and has created the opening for itself.

The batsman is Sachin Tendulkar and the bowler is Shaun Pollock. One how the greatest batman should be and the others how the heirs to the cricketing dynasty
should be, but rarely are. Hardworking , affable, humble, down to earth, smiling. His uncle one of the best batsmen of his era who never played, his father one of the best
bowlers his country has ever produced. He was always expected to do more than 100% and only after that his achievements are grudgingly conceded.

Aged 13 he replaces his injured father in a state game and grabs seven wickets. But still he is the joker of the pack,
and was not even considered the best amongst his cousins. The will to improve takes him far further than his cousins. His is an exciting exhilarating story of the talent, dynasty effect of politics on cricket and the good and bad things about cricket. Life is pretty good with Hansie Cronje and his then deputy Kirsten taking care of an emerging side.
With some very good batsmen and terrific bowlers; all exceptional fielders. Hungry to perform and prove. They reach the second spot and apart from frequent choking;
are a team to match the mighty Aussies. He is very happy hunting with his favourite hunting partner Donald the snake.

But that is just a facade, something evil is simmering inside. Something so black, it will smear name of the team and the game forever. Turn away millions of believers.
There are some ripples which show the monster lurking below especially when the vice captain retired without any intimation. And one day the hell breaks loose.
From a far away country news of unearthing the grave of cricket float on the air. Jadeja, Prabhakar, Ajhar, Malik are gone; Kapil,Inzy,Waugh,Warne are doubted.
About two generations of cricketers are under the scanner. The world of cricket and especially South Afrikan cricket is in tatters. Cronje is out, gibbs-Boje are doubted.
A closely knit hard working family is hit where it hurts most. Their captain, who represented them, invigorated them and held them together has turned kaput.
He who created ambition out of the glory and will to improve and fight back through their defeats has let them down.

And the mantle of captaincy falls on his unassuming shoulders and world is fun no more. The heir of the dynasties rises up to the challenge. The fun of playing has
somehow not gone out still. And along with the flair of the Tendulkars and Laras, the steadfast tenacity of Waughs and Ranatungas, the simplicity of the Pollocks
of the world is something that provided straws to clutch for the believers.

Still he was straight enough to dedicate the West Indies whitewash to his tainted captain, Cronje. He hoenstly believed he owed the improvements in the team
to the foundations laid by Cronje and he acknowledged it.

He partnered with Ntini as well as he did with Donald. Always keeping it tight and setting it up the other bowlers to get the glory. Use the long handle pretty effectively
and quiet frequently, good enough to be called a bowling all rounder. As a senior statesman of the team, always supported upcoming bowlers and
Now that this simple, straight talking guy is retiring, the world of cricket is definitely poorer and less simple by his absence.