The rise and fall of a dynasty

Now that I have seen the rise and fall of an empire, I realize that no matter how brutally and viciously the empire ruled during their days, in their moment of weakness you can’t help but look back with fondness on their days of glory.

I used to be a hardcore cricket fan as a teenager. Religiously following every match in every format of it (that was the era before 20-20 was a legal format of the game) on star sports and ESPN. It dint matter which country was playing whom. I even watched the highlights, the presentation ceremony, the senseless talk shows with scantily dressed women in it. It was like a disease, I would loose sleep over it, praying for the Indian tail-ender’s bat to kiss the ball so that we could steal some runs and lower that impossible ‘required run rate’. But engineering college with its unpredictable schedule and one-TV-for-the-entire-hostel rule cured me of this disease. I tried picking up the habit again but it was difficult because by then there were too many unfamiliar faces for me. Its frustrating looking at the batting line up and not knowing if the next guy is a “Matthew Haydon” type or a “Rahul Dravid" type.

Coming back to the time when I was still passionate about watching the game, I remember the one team that was so unbeatable that it was almost evil. They were the formidable Aussies led by the very glamorous Steve Waugh and later by the Adam Gilchrist. It was easy to hate this team. The rival teams easily had nightmares of the kangaroo with the fosters T-shirt running away with the trophy even before the series began. That nightmare was repetitive. Every win against the Aussies, if there was ever any was celebrated all over the world irrespective of the rival team. Even a drawn test was seen as a failure to the Waugh’s tough boys.

Any hero who did his magic against this team was garlanded and worshiped like a god. It was during one such tournament down under that VVS Laxman and Harbhajan Singh appeared to me as serious cricketers’. It was then that a sports editor decided to christen Laxman with the Very Very Special (VVS) tag.

For over a decade journalists and TV show anchors could easily refer to them as the “world champions” and people would understand who we were referring to. I miss that aggressive bunch badly. As much as I thought they were rude snobs it was always a treat to see them do what they did best—Kick ass on the cricket field. To watch a white lipped Shane Warne’s arm movement as he took his last steps before releasing the ball and wonder if he was going to bowl a “flipper” or a “slider”. To anticipate which corner of the ground Mattew Hayden would smash the ball. Mark Waugh’s never rarely disappointed his bowlers in his fixed position in the slip, diving for even the most impossible catches. Glen Mcgrath’s “faster than witches” balls. Bret lee was a newbie then, very very handsome and martial issueless. Adam Gilchrist the “pitch hitter” stole the show from his opponents more times than one. Not to forget Justin Langer’s infamous word games with the opposite teams and the umpires.

Ashes, is the most notable legendary rivalry in international cricket that dates back to 1882. The ashes cup contains the Ashes of the bail used in the 1^st Ashes series. During the days I used to watch the Ashes, the English were raped match after match, series after series. They had my sympathies even before the match began. From 1989-2003 the Aussies won six consecutive Ashes extremely convincingly. It looked like there was no stopping this monster. Like they could go on and on forever, and no savior would ever come to break the monotony of their success. But nothing lasts forever, and slowly one by one the great legends in the Australian team had to retire. Soon it was fresh faces with Punter boy to lead them all. This ended their fairytale story.

Last month I closely followed the Ashes in the news papers. I wanted them to loose, yes. Even after 3 previous Ashes loses, and many humiliating defeats with teams all around the world I still can only remember them as that snobbish sniggering team that grabbed all the trophies greedily. This included three consecutive world cups. Yes, the Aussies did loose this Ashes too, not to mention convincingly. But when the score turned to a 3-1 my feelings to the Aussie changed a little, I suspect it to be pity, sympathy. Out of the last four Ashes series, England won three. I would like to blame Ricky Ponting for the crisis. I never liked him, not one of the players I admired. But that would be unfair. They had failed as a team and it wouldn’t help to blame the captain, we the Indians should know that better.

With the world cup only days away the Aussie team must have a plan to keep the world cup with them. But even while watching that team play I am sure I miss a few familiar faces. The world cup shall miss those formidable players. Something tells me the world cup will also miss the Aussies.