Published: Jan 07, 2015, 09:01 AM (IST)
Edited: Jan 07, 2015, 06:21 PM (IST)
The average merely becomes old fashioned, Great, however, becomes vintage. Shivnarine Chanderpaul belongs to the latter category. West Indies, however, epitomize the former. Ankur Dhawan reflects on the juxtaposition of gold and brass.
It had rained all day before the sun popped out from behind the table mountain on Day Four, as if to bid adieu to the champion from Guyana, batting on his last hinges, as in all likelihood this was Chanderpaul’s last innings in South Africa.
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He battled to keep his team afloat for the umpteenth time, quite oblivious of the fact that he was on the threshold of 12,000 Test runs, exuding tranquillity of a monk in quotidian din. The customary digging of the bail into the turf marked the beginning of yet another salvaging act, amidst yet another mundane collapse. The sense of monotony resonated, as did the sense of an ending.
West Indies had somehow managed to stay relevant in the Test match. Marlon Samuels and Chanderpaul’s partnership of 87 had ensured hope will continue to flicker till all was lost. Samuels flattered to deceive and let his ego get the better of him. For Chanderpaul, all this was routine: the tune has been hummed before, and he was comfortable in his skin. Another fifty was there for the taking, he took it attaining no vicarious pleasure out of it.
Dale Steyn was pumped up, he was going for the jugular, the ball was reversing like a wooden top. Young Simon Harmer was spinning a web and twirling it around the West Indies. Steyn ripped through the next two batsmen in a matter of minutes. Chanderpaul needed to farm the strike. The West Indies tail had displayed brittleness of glass.
Chanderpaul knew it all too well, but he was lashing out. There was no throwing bat in disgust, no heated exchanges with the batsmen coming in and going out, there was no discernible anger. There was only resignation in his approach. Some may deem it selfishness or even foolhardiness considering Chanderpaul’s myriad experiences in situations such as this that the West Indies inevitably find themselves in. But he was done trying.
He would perhaps continue to bat because that has been his life, but there was no effort on his part to stem the rut. He left the tail exposed, he let the match slip away (if it had not already). He was eventually run out for fifty in depressing fashion.
(Ankur Dhawan is a reporter with CricketCountry. Heavily influenced by dystopian novels, he naturally has about 59 conspiracy theories for every moment in the game of cricket. On finding a direct link between his head and the tip of his fingers, he also writes about it)
