The Surfer

The humble surrounds and spartan accommodation embody the school's ethos that excellence in fast bowling is generated from thorough preparation, hunger and toil. The school is based on a site no bigger than a large playground or about a quarter of the size of a large test match ground like Eden Gardens in Kolkata.

Now 61, Lillee visits the school around three times a year for a fortnight at a time, generally in February, June and September. His reputation as a classical fast bowler can cloud the fact he is also an astute coach fascinated by the minutiae of the art of swinging and seaming five-and-a-half ounces of leather.

A batsman who hits a six may impress the fans, but if that is all he scores in an over then a lot of bowlers will be happy to let him have it, reckoning that if he tries to clear the ropes again they will have a good chance of getting him out. By taking ones and twos when he can, Trott is keeping the bowler under pressure, chipping away at the run rate. It is conspicuous that England's two most successful batsmen in this tournament have been Trott and Strauss, neither of them prolific six-hitters, but both of them intelligent cricketers.

Whoever are England's opponents they will rationalise that they have a good draw. England, denuded of two genuine match-winners, Kevin Pietersen and Broad, do not have many players in form. The bowlers terrify no one, nor do their batsmen. And yet there will be a nagging feeling as well. For all their frailties this England side does not appear to know when it is beaten.

She started out with an academic interest in the social history of South Asian nations, and gradually realised that a complete understanding of India would be elusive if she did not delve into a pastime that keeps most of its citizens enraptured.

“I stayed with Indian friends the first time I visited New Delhi as a student in the mid-1980s. I saw her entire family sitting in front of a TV for almost the whole day watching cricket. I was amazed. Even in Japan people watch baseball and soccer, but that's mostly in the evenings, and not for so long.”

“Then, when I went out, I saw children playing cricket in the street, in the downtown, on dried fields and in deserted lanes. That's when I realised that cricket was important to understand the concept of India, its colonial history,” she says.

Common sense suggests that Zimbabwe should be given a prolonged course of four-day first-class cricket: of ‘A’ tours by concerned countries, and playing abroad, for example in the West Indian domestic first-class competition, as the England Lions are.

Only when Zimbabwe’s batsmen have learned to play long innings against real pace and spin, and only when they have unearthed some speed of their own, should they return to Test cricket.

But that, of course, is not how cricket politics work. Officially, Zimbabwe withdrew from Test cricket in 2006 of their own volition — the ICC did not suspend them — and to Test cricket they will voluntarily return after this World Cup.

There are so many elements to the story … My first thought had been: maybe this isn't just a story about Botham. Perhaps Botham could be cast more broadly as an icon of changing times, a triangulation of early 1980s power fringes alongside Di and Thatch. And there are many other fascinating actors in the piece, notably the Australians Rod Marsh and Kim Hughes. Really, though, what comes through still is the self-contained brilliance of Botham's deeds … uncobwebbed by three decades of subsequent superlatives.

Twelve young women turn up to Bi's weekly sessions. It is just about enough to put a team together, but she is constantly looking for more girls to join. “The youngest in my coaching session is 14, the oldest is 33. Some are married, some have kids, but most have never played cricket before, though they know the game from watching it at home, in the way Pakistani families do…”

Bi understands how difficult it is to convince [Asian] parents to let their daughters play – last year, she convinced a men's team to take her on as their only female player, but did not tell her family. “I knew my dad wouldn't approve … I asked to join the team because I wanted to set myself a challenge. At the beginning, I could tell the other guys on the team didn't take me seriously, but once I started to play, the men started to respect me and they treated me no differently. I ended up playing for them all season.”

Excessive criticism of any Indian cricketer can be quite hazardous for a media outlet … no more will it get exclusive quotes and interviews from the star cricketer that media outlets thrive upon. The cricketer, therefore, has great powers to fight back when in trouble. By comparison, the poor umpire is powerless! No one wants a Billy Doctrove exclusive, right?

For me, nothing is more ridiculous than the suggestion that an umpiring decision cost a team the match. We go on for days about how that one umpiring decision—for or against one batsman—cost us the game. You’d think that only one batsman bats in this game and not eleven.

it’s an irony that the man who stands for every desirable value—perseverance, commitment to one’s job, grace under pressure, humility despite being lionised—isn’t eligible for the highest civilian award of the land, the Bharat Ratna … the guidelines state that the Bharat Ratna can be given only “for exceptional service towards advancement of Art, Literature and Science, and in recognition of Public Service of the highest order”. Sport is excluded. And therefore, Tendulkar too.

Social theorist Ashis Nandy cites three reasons why the award should not be bestowed on Tendulkar or his ilk: “First, it will only endorse the capacity of the Indian state, the politicians and the bureaucrats, to judge sportspersons when they have already shown that they cannot judge even public service, arts, humanities and science. Second, it will further politicise Indian sports and turn the sportspersons towards greater sycophancy and kowtowing. And third, it will legitimise state awards in a society that has already used the awards to hierarchise scholars, writers, journalists, artists and performers.”

Win or lose, his tone is even. He almost always wears the India cap, dolphin grey or swimming pool blue, bearing the No. 157 (He is the 157th player to represent India in ODIs). Pressed at the back of the cap is likely to be an inverted pair of sunglasses. He sits leaning forward, with hands in his lap. He uses his left hand to explain things and sometimes rocks in the chair. While listening to the question, he looks at the journalist and gently nods his head. The captain of India is also prone to using car analogies when talking about players. It is said Dhoni prefers minimal interaction with journalists. But when he makes himself available, he does justice to the date. He is articulate, reasonably frank about the team’s weaknesses (fielding, for example) and gives technical insights that inform.