If you believe in the gods of cricket
You honour the old Combermerian Frank Worrell, the first to consolidate the giants together with his popular leadership in ‘58/’59
If you believe in the gods of cricket
You can still hear the whispers, Malcolm Marshall continues to overlook Kensington, telling each boy turned fast bowling West Indian man “run, you are wind, run you are wind”
If you believe in the gods of cricket
See the dust rise from the chaos made of the crowd in another unorthodox hook shot from Kanhai. Gavaskar thought he was the greatest, he even named his son ‘Rohan’ after him.
If you believe in the gods of cricket
Your hands anointed Brian Lara. First ‘Sir’, then ‘Prince’, then the ‘Bright Light’ for our region in the dark times after Viv, Haynes and Greenidge and the greats.
Lara who burned every cricketing textbook. His back lift that defied gravity.
The loan of the world record to an Australian, he would later reclaim in six months ‘not out’ like a fashion statement.
And believers come in many forms
They are the choir signing the cheers for every boundary in a pum pum shorts, they are the holy women and men who share pelau from coolers and Carib during Lunch, they are the nuts men who would make better fields-men than our own cricketers with the precision and long distances they can throw a pack of salt of fresh! They are the shells of the sea we make into horns that welcome each player onto the greens from the pavilion like royalty!
And we worshipped them in the stands, beneath the sun, behind television sets with our families, on the streets, with our wind ball bats summoning their names and making Ms. Theodore’s window a boundary for six and a full on edge passed the blue barrel out!
But all is not good on earth. As our cricketers past, our gods, watch us in the sky and promise us two seasons of rain in Guyana to wash our sins and our needless trespasses, we are at a critical moment in the history of West Indies Cricket once again.
When Darren Sammy, before the world, on the eve of his celebration, created a moment of both joy and sadness, he silenced us. For the first time, in a long while, the captain of the West Indies Cricket Team explained the neglect and betrayal of his own people to our cause.
The cause of West Indian Cricket is liberation. But the organisers of the game who see dollar signs and not legends, who see corporate sponsors and not public goods, who see salaries of employees in their business logic and not Ambassadors of West Indian peoples’ continue to oppress us. And the CLR James of our time is called to write a history and the meaning of the game of cricket Within A Boundary.
What Sammy told the West Indies Cricket Board is “Let My People Go”
What the CARICOM Cricket Review Panel Report told the WICB is “Let My People Go”
What 6,000 signatures on an online petition that drew solidarity from West Indians and fans of the art form said to the WICB is, “Let My People Go”
And we cannot be distracted right now. Cricket is more than a bat and ball and our favourite Championship and IPL matches. We are a West Indian People who must honour the gods and rally around ourselves…
…for our history has been hard and heroic and our future is always hopeful.
You can sign our online petition here:
