The West Indians are bowling intelligently, playing a balanced side, batting with application and generally giving an admittedly patchwork Australian side an unexpectedly uncomfortable ride, writes Peter Roebuck.
Everyone has been hoping for a revival in Caribbean cricket. Followers of the game of a certain age have joyful memories of the calypso kings. Doubtless it was never quite as straightforward as it seemed. Doubtless the view of the West Indians as a bunch of cheery souls playing a dashing game was patronising. Doubtless it was also a little racist (assuming that is possible). But the fact remains that the West Indians were regarded as a sporting side playing attacking cricket. The region produced some of the greatest cricketers and men the game has known.
Subsequently cricket supporters have been dismayed by the feebleness and sometimes rottenness of the side in the last 20 years. It is not merely that the team was weak. Every country goes through a lean spell as older players fade and fresh talent disappoints. Rather, a fine tradition was betrayed. Successive West Indian outfits seemed lazy and inept. They remained competitive at home but became grumpy on tour. Some of them had an unduly high opinion of themselves, many did not take responsibility for their performances. Always it seemed to be someone else’s fault. Usually bad administration was blamed. But greatness lies in overcoming handicaps.
Not even leaders like Jimmy Adams and Ian Bishop could turn things around. West Indies still produced fine men but they were outnumbered and the malaise was hard to shift. Basketball and soccer were blameless. That are entitled to compete. Alas a tradition that had lost its pride, newcomers were more interested in taking than giving. Generations of Caribbean cricketers were given a wonderful grounding in Sunday schools or on sugarcane plantations. What had taken their place?
In previous generations, rising West Indian cricketers played with the local champions, most of whom lived nearby. One veteran remembers playing club cricket alongside Frank Worrell and recalled the great men quietly reading a book in the pavilion as Roy Gilchrist bombarded his charges. Informed that the fierce paceman was running amok, Worrell put on yellowing pads and a sunhat, strolled out and took him apart. It was a priceless education. West Indies were the best behaved, most loved and most entertaining team around.
Small wonder that every strong showing is greeted with acclaim. Sometimes a revival is predicted. Often the wish is father to the thought. Alas bad habits are not so easily subdued and it proves to be a dead cat bounce.
Three times bitten, four times shy. Although the West Indians are playing with unfamiliar intensity in the current series, though they are bowling intelligently, playing a balanced side, batting with application and generally giving an admittedly patchwork Australian side an unexpectedly uncomfortable ride, still it is too early to draw any broader conclusions. Although the senior batsmen have been applying themselves, the striving pacemen have been putting spells and sometimes even days together and the young all-rounder has been playing with gusto, still it is unwise to make any predictions.
After all we have trod this path before. Even in its darkest days the West Indians stretched visiting teams. Not until the team goes on the road will its character and calibre be properly tested.
Between ourselves, though, the thought arises that the wealth and security provided by T20, the ousting of Marlon Samuel, the selection of a spinner, the arrival of a new coach, the contributions of the Indian community and the rise of Dwayne Bravo bode well. And the first time in ages, West Indians are in demand overseas. Perhaps the worst has passed. Now burn this article.
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