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The Old Batsman reminisces the era of the 1990s, which he feels has now become old enough to slip into "unfamiliarity". By remembering Brian Lara's knock of 375 in 1994, and that of 400* a decade later, he notes the difference in the ages.
His genius was present and total, that endless backlift counterpointed by the low and level head, his certainty and speed through the hitting area contrasting with the languorous beauty of his follow through; it's timeless. Yet all around him was context. His bat, the classic Scoop, was slim and straight, lacking the great bows and edges of modern warfare. Shirts were baggy, pads buckled, scoreboards pre-electronic. No-one in the crowd had phones or cameras, the fashions and haircuts appeared odd and lost. For the first time, 1994 looked like a period piece, as all things eventually do.
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