ONLY once did my late father strike me. we censure Michael Bevan for it. It was New Year’s Day, 1996. we had my holiday task to finish, yet that could wait. West Indies were finally winning, or seemed good on their approach to do so. Then Bevan busted it, with a last-ball 4 off a misfortune smoothness Roger Harper ever bowled in his career.
West Indies had put usually 172 on board, yet had reduced Australia to 38/5 when Bevan walked out. And by a time Bill Lawry had finished screaming, “That’s four. Victory for Australia. What a stroke…”, my eyeglasses had been flung towards a TV, and finale adult in dual pieces. Then came a thwackk, joining right opposite my left cheek.
In a approach it was my father’s fault. My unashamed adore for a West Indies cricket group had been built some-more on folklore than fact. we wasn’t innate when they won a initial dual World Cups. we never watched Michael Holding, Andy Roberts, Clive Lloyd, Gordon Greenidge or Joel Garner live. we usually saw a final vestiges of a mythological careers of Malcolm Marshall and Viv Richards. we didn’t see a group from a Caribbean run roughshod over others. But flourishing up, that’s all my father spoke of. To make matters worse, that’s what a Channel 9 commentators, led by Ian Chappell, did as well.
It had been a tough year for us. we mean, for West Indies and me. Some 7 months earlier, Mark Taylor’s Australia had knocked them off a perch, their dominant strain of not losing a Test array for 15 years, entrance to an end. Worse was a steer of my favourite cricketer Richie Richardson, who had faced a nastiest of quick bowlers with a floppy hat, a nipping resin and a kind of machismo many group can usually dream of, walking out to bat in a helmet. The courageous gladiator had incited small mortal.
My mania with a West Indies was well-known, and whenever they lost, we would be greeted with taunts and barbs from my friends in a neighbourhood. “Tere jaisa hi hai tera team. Useless.” It wasn’t usually my peers, uncles or a watchmen who tore into me. So did my father and elder brother. Both were narrow-minded India supporters and we had to buy a apart TV set for me to watch so that there was no intra-familial assault during India-West Indies matches.
1996 had begun on a green note, and it usually got worse. West Indies would go down to Kenya in a World Cup in Pune. They somehow kick South Africa in a quarters. But afterwards Bevan discovered his group again.
They were behind in Australia for a Test array during a finish of a year. It didn’t start well, as they mislaid a initial dual Tests. Next adult was a Boxing Day Test during a Melbourne Cricket Ground (MCG). The compare lasted 3 days interjection to a peppery spell of quick bowling from Curtly Ambrose as a Aussies succumbed to his glow and brimstone display. As Ambrose stood during a centre of a MCG pumping his fist in a air, we was doing a same in a one-BHK during Ghatkopar. Finally, here was a West Indies that we had grown adult imagining.
Or so we thought. The subsequent Test in Adelaide was another disaster and they mislaid their initial array in Australia in over 20 years. West Indies cricket would usually slip further, being clean-swept in Pakistan before losing 5-0 in South Africa. In 1999, they would be bowled out for their lowest score, 51, by Australia during Port-of-Spain.
That 1999 array yet did give me my biggest impulse as a fan. Lara’s conspicuous run-chase during Barbados when he led them home in a association of last-man Walsh in what is deliberate a best fourth innings arrangement by a batsman. we would adopt illness during a family marriage accepting that night to rush behind home and locate Lara’s epic. West Indies usually played one some-more Boxing Day Test after 1996 — a terrible event in 2000, partial of a array that they mislaid 5-0.This Saturday, they took a margin again. While those in my locality have prolonged changed on, we woke adult during an obsessive hour to locate a initial round — yet with reduction emotion. A detriment won’t harm as most any more.