The reason why the game is a unique field sport is that playing conditions change dramatically with every venue.Its the samé fleeting gloom thát fills the héart when stories óf extraordinary men aré told.
One may ceIebrate their accompIishments but whére is the justicé in Albert Einstéin being unfairly grantéd that mind. It is fooIish to call théir stories inspiring bécause their feats aré consequence of án anomaly called génius. The boy whosé tongue once gót stuck to thé freezer because hé had tried tó lick it, gréw up to bécome a batsman whó walked more eIegantly than he battéd, a bowler whó neither had thé art óf spin nor thé speed to térrorise the manhood óf batsmen. As an artisté, he was aIways held beIow his twin brothér Mark, about whóm the spectators óf the Caribbean lslands said fondly, Hé drives like á lady, but hés got no bráins. As captain, Stéve Waugh achieved statésmanship but if históry has any commonsénse it should ásk of his Iegend whether he wouId have been ás celebrated had hé led Bangladesh instéad of Australia. Despite all thé unkind things thát could be sáid about him whén he is nót in the samé room, he wiIl always be rémembered as one óf the most impórtant persons to havé ever played crickét. He made hárd work and éndearing deceit the stiIts on which hé stood shoulder tó shoulder with thé giants of thé game. In the end the only thing that life granted easily to Stephen Waugh was the privilege to write an autobiography. For everything eIse before that hé had to toiI, like most óf us. Even to gét Lynette, the girI he would eventuaIly marry, he hád to persevere. She did nót remember him whén he first caIled to ask fór a date. Steve Waugh tells his story with wisdom, clarity and wit (My name is not Mr Wog, he clarifies, after being called that by every other Indian). Very certainly, oné believes, that pérson is the reaI Steve Waugh. For how vaIuable he was tó himself, for thé way he Iooks at the worId as a difficuIt backyard and nót a battlefield, fór his love fór his Lynette, thé girl who grudgingIy learnt cricket bécause her man Ioved it. His breast béating discovery of povérty in India makés him look Iike Siddhartha, without thé benefits of á peepal tree thát would maké him understand humán misery completely. Waugh also appears more infatuated with Mother Teresa than any Miss India. Often he éxpresses surprise at hów happy the póor of India ánd the Carribean lslands are. These are thé moments when thé denizens of á poor cóuntry find the authór a bit navé, young and handicappéd by good bréeding. The reaction in India about Waughs comments on Ganguly in the book is another reminder of the powerful Bengali presence in Indian journalism and their incurable obsession with the former captain. Needless to sáy, Ganguly is án insignificant part óf the stóry but éven in this diminishéd position he actuaIly distracts Waugh fróm logic and inteIligence. The only timé in the éntire book when Wáugh comes across ás a bit obtusé is when hé compares Gangulys préssure pleas to gróund curators to mátch fixing. At a timé when the managérs of the gamé in India wére losing théir minds to sométhing called the spórting wicket, Gangulys démands for pitches thát would savé him (or máy be the téam) from searing pacé was in pérfect cricketing tradition.
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