The Surfer

In a sense, all batsmen are doomed. They walk to the crease knowing that their innings is finite, and that it could end at any moment. It takes a very special person to relish that situation, but that's how Javed Miandad played. He had the mentality of a fugitive, content to live on his wits no matter how great the risks. In fact, he needed those risks in order to thrive.

“It’s very painful,” he [Stuart Law] says. “You say your piece to the team, you try to instill confidence in them but I’d rather be able to show them — to say ‘watch me’. That’s what I tried to do as a senior player.” Evidently Law is still learning about the peculiar limbo occupied by the cricket coach — that unfortunate soul who must bowl every ball and play every shot from his vantage point on the pavilion balcony.

As comfortable as he [Khawaja] looked against England's fast bowlers, and as much fun as he had, he felt inexperienced. He knew ... his cricket education was incomplete. He went to English county Derbyshire to fill in some gaps. ''When I played for Australia I qualified to go over and I thought it would be silly of me not to take the opportunity because I could play against different players on different surfaces with different balls, a whole new style of cricket,'' Khawaja told The Saturday Age.

He likes to solve problems; a skill some older figures in Australian cricket believe is uncommon among the country's younger batsmen. It suggests, too, that Khawaja will demand the same excellence of himself as he builds a cricket career as he did when he was studying for a bachelor of aviation and learning to fly commercial planes. ''Flying is the kind of thing, you need to have your head on. When I did do it I was fully into it and I was switched on. Now, everything is cricket.''

Turner has always been his own man. He has little time for emotion and fanfare and absolutely no desire to establish any sort of relationship with the players or for that matter administrators. If the players want a pat on the back then Turner is the last person they should seek out, but if they want a lesson on technique and common sense he should be among the first. When Turner talks cricket, people listen.

Pollard is still learning the game. His Test and ODI returns are modest. He has abundant promise and spasmodic delivery.

And yet Pollard can become a formidable cricketer. He has a rare gift. Just that he needs to tighten his technique. And that means working on his back foot game not his 'dilscoop'.

Once upon a time they (state teams) used to shudder at the thought of having to play against Mumbai. Such was the way the 39-time Ranji Trophy champions dominated the psyche of their opponents. However, the Indian cricketing powerhouse has started losing its grip and fear factor as well.

Is it fatigue that is driving fans away from the ongoing India-West Indies series or is this a manifestation of a much larger malaise afflicting international cricket at the moment? Hard to say, especially when even the quality of cricket on display is, to use a mild word, poor. You rub your eyes first in disbelief and then in anguish while watching the West Indian bowlers turn their arms and bowl at a speed that would embarrass even the "worst" medium pace bowlers of the world. Is this the same team which, once upon a time, sent shivers down the spines of the best of batsmen?

More troubling than the decision itself, though, is the explanation provided. Australia has no business talking about the 2013 Ashes. Instead, the think tank ought to be focusing on succeeding in Sri Lanka and South Africa and then welcoming and subduing India, the world's best team. A tough summer lies ahead, and it's foolish to look too far ahead. It's also a throwback. The Ashes are no longer the benchmark. The other disconcerting aspect of Katich's dumping is the lack of emerging players pressing for places. Promise does not butter the bread. That an accomplished player approaching the end of his career has been dropped a year ahead of schedule is nothing new. Sportsmen and selectors are always falling out about that last year. Far more alarming is the lack of proven replacements. Australia has become obsessed with scoring rates. Alastair Cook has reminded the cricket community of the value of a tried and trusted opener.

In a small room is a replica of the corrugated-iron water tank against which the boy Bradman used to hit a ball with a stump, honing his lightning reflexes as the ball bounced back at random angles. You can try it yourself with a ball and stick provided. There are photographs of the humble cottages of his parents, his beginnings in club cricket, the international career interrupted by war and the triumphant return in 1948 with the England tour of the "Invincibles", the first Australian team to return from the old country undefeated in any of their 34 games (25 wins, nine draws).

The weather was glorious in spells; so was the West Indies. Monday morning, old timers at the Queen's Park Oval for the first ball at 9 o'clock, people from far far like Moruga driving to town early early, not only because of the distance but because that's just the way they are, merciful sun shining over the field, the stands creating a shadow ring over the boundary, Indian opening batsman Dhawan strolling to take his position in the little shade in front Republic Bank stand, no noise yet from those Trini Posse party people, the Oval still sober, and it seemed, on a day that starts like that, nothing could go wrong.

But much did.