The Surfer

For Vishal, 46 now, the journey back to Ireland as a 17-year-old, after he was packed off to live with his grandparents in Mumbai days after his mother's death for 12 years, has been worth it. "My mother's death changed everyone's life in the family. My sister and I were flown to India right away while our father joined us after folding up his business. He would remarry. I didn't let the trauma of my mother's death make me turn my back on Ireland even though it brought unhappy memories. I did return to the place of my birth," says Vishal, a diehard weekend club cricketer. "Now I look forward to the day when my sons Varun and Rishi play for the Ireland senior team. Being part of the Ireland under-19 team is a big honour for the family and the Indian community."

Here is JM Kilburn, famed correspondent of the Yorkshire Post, on Tyson. "His best pace was nothing short of startling to batsmen and spectators alike. He represented an elemental force obscuring the details of his technique and the highest tribute he received was the gasp of incredulity frequently emitted by the crowd as the ball passed from his hand to the distant wicketkeeper."

… 23 September, and that date two days on, are ones that resonate through cricket even to this day, and perhaps, given the current debate about super-blades and whether it is time to start reining in their power, more so than ever. It concerns a cricketer, Thomas White, one of two of the same surname who played contemporaneously almost two-and-a-half centuries ago when the game was in its infancy, and an incident that became known as "the wide bat controversy". At first this was believed to centre around the fellow known as 'Shock' White, a Middlesex cricketer from Brentford. More likely, and generally accepted, it was actually Thomas 'Daddy' White, of Reigate, a significant Surrey and All-England all-rounder, who went in to bat for Chertsey, playing against Hambledon, at Laleham Burway, in Surrey. This was a game billed, as was customary at the time, as "A Great Cricket Match" played between two top sides for high stakes, originally £50 a side, but with larger stakes accruing and it was during the first Chertsey innings that White, according to contemporary account, through prank, pursuit of unfair advantage, or an attempt to hasten the introduction of a new law, "tried to use a bat that was fully as wide as the wicket itself".

He was among the first to call me on hearing the news of my father's demise in 1999 (during the World Cup in England). It was a very touching gesture. He was the president of the ICC then and he wanted to make sure I did not have trouble dealing with the tragedy. It meant a lot.

The tricky part will be in the attempt to replicate the playing conditions that since the first Test there in 1970 have made the WACA ground unique. The new stadium will have drop-in pitches, the technology for the cultivation of which has improved immeasurably since the days of Kerry Packer's World Series cricket. The intention, of course, is to develop pitches using the same soil type and grass rooting, with the aim of obtaining similar pace and bounce, although this raises the question as to why it cannot, therefore, be done elsewhere

Caught Close, bowled Snow 0, reads the scorebook, and how little such a simple line can convey of what it took. As Sobers' blade whirled its intent has there ever been anyone who would not have ducked, dived for cover, turned away, covered up, or flinched? Honestly? Close was impassive. He did not blink or move a muscle. There is no one else who could have taken that catch, in that way. So the question can be repeated: is it possible for the greatest catch also to be the simplest? I think it can.

I remember one specific training session when I was struggling with an LBW problem. He said the only way I would learn is to use my bat and not my pad. He asked for my bat and gloves. I told him they were right handed gloves (he was a left-hander) but he did not care and he went into the net at the age of 60 wearing no pads on his legs. He said: "Bat without pads, son, because that way you learn to hit the ball. If you don't then you soon end up with a broken knee cap." In a way, it did work.

He would also watch nets and ask: "Why are you lads ducking and weaving?" He would say: "Let the ball hit you. It is only a bruise. Bruises disappear but when you are out it is over. You might not bat again for a week."

My whole family is cricket-crazy. Dad (Tyronne) played cricket, and so did my brother. When I was growing up, my dad was abroad most of the time. So, my mother (Monica), who is probably the most passionate cricket fan of the lot, pushed me. She went to the extent of giving me throw-downs and hanging the ball in a sock off the tree and wanting me to hit that. That's one of the chief reasons I have always played with a straight bat, which was crucial in my childhood.

He bowled with both wit and warfare and finally imposed his imposing physique on opponents, towering over them menacingly during a number of altercations like a vituperative gargoyle rather than the harmless giraffe in a glamrock wig. It has been frankly quite exhilarating and his head-slapping celebration after dismissing Dinesh Chandimal in Sri Lanka's second innings in Colombo offered just the merest hint of deranged lunacy, no bad thing in any quick. Ishant is never going to be the most mellifluous of bowlers, so it's far better he tries to be André Nel rather than André Previn

#Amul Topical : Sri Lanka vs India on-field spats! #INDvsSL pic.twitter.com/qOIenI4Yxa

— Amul.coop (@Amul_Coop) September 1, 2015