Memories don't leave like legends do

THE MAROON cap and a thousand memories. Of a glittering team that soared higher than the faraway clouds in the sky. Of cricketers who could, both, delight and conquer. Of those high-fives and those typically spontaneous celebrations.

Men with that unique amalgam of flair and character, passion and steel. Strong, bold, and eventually path-breaking.

Clive Lloyd's ``all conquering soldiers.'' Great strokemakers and fearsome fast bowlers...the spirit of the Calypso, the power and ruthlessness of a proud cricketing community.

When Courtney Walsh kissed that maroon cap, even as he walked away after his final Test at Kingston, Jamaica, it was good-bye to those thousand memories.

But then, memories will remain...forever.

Walsh forced his way into the side only during the fag end of Lloyd's eventful regime. In Australia, during the 1984-85 series, where the Caribbeans swept aside the opposition.

Yet he was `there', in that hallowed company. A dressing room occupied by the imperious Lloyd, the murderous Gordon Greenidge, the explosive Vivian Richards, the silken smooth Michael Holding, the dangerous Malcolm Marshall.

Much of cricket is about history, and when Walsh finally bid adieu after years of sweat and toil, it marked a unique moment in the game.

Contemporary cricket's last link with Lloyd's men, the first bowler to break the 500-wicket barrier in Tests, someone who enriched the game with his impeccable ways on and off the field, had departed in a blaze of glory.

The Last of the Mohicans had drifted into the sunset.

Let's salute the hero, who played the game with honour and dignity, a role model if ever there was one. To whom winning was as important as winning with grace.

Much of Walsh's last few years with the Caribbeans would have been one of immense frustration. Wickets taken by him and old mate Curtly Ambrose counted for nothing from a team's perspective as batsman after batsman surrendered meekly.

It must have been galling, and he must have bled within, with Windies being humbled by sides that had been blown away in the heady days. He marched on, his visage masking the pain of the humiliations.

Gods must have cried too. For West Indies ended a barren streak in Walsh's last Test. At least there were smiles of a triumph all around when Walsh took the final, long walk back.

Over seventeen years of international cricket, a mind-boggling 519 wickets ...it has been one heck of a journey for the 38-year- old man.

Perhaps the secret of Walsh's longevity, apart from his wonderful work ethic, lay in his open-crested action, where body was perfectly balanced at the point of delivery. Recent studies have revealed that pacemen who were side-on - classical it might seem to be - were more prone to breaking down.

Walsh smashed another myth on his way, first to Kapil Dev's World record, and then past the 500-wicket mark. That pacemen who took the ball away from the right-hander were more successful in Test cricket.

Walsh's chief wicket-taking delivery was the one coming in - the dreaded off-cutter - that could find its way past most defences. And he had a mean short pitched delivery, that has put quite a few batsmen out of business.

The ability to make the cherry climb from just short of a good length ensured he was lethal on wearing pitches. It was one such spell from him that demolished the South Africans in the historic one-off Test of Bridgetown, '92.

This didn't mean that Walsh did not possess the away-going delivery. In fact, he used this as his surprise weapon, and always had `Plan B' if things didn't quite go his way. The hallmark of a great paceman.

The Jamaican was much quicker when he began his career, but shrewdly reduced his speed in keeping with the demands of modern cricket with its heavy schedule. And his decision to keep away from one-dayers in the concluding phase of his career was a well advised one.

Walsh's partnership with Curtly Ambrose will go down as one of the all-time great ones. Sharing the new ball, the duo consumed 421 batsmen in 49 Tests and an endearing, enduring relationship it certainly was.

Ambrose's big eyes lit up when Walsh became the highest wicket- taker in Test history against Zimbabwe last year, and the Antiguan rushed to share the joy with his pace partner. And when Ambrose reached the 400- Test wickets months later in the Old Blighty, Walsh's face sported a cheery grin.

It was a classic combination stemming from control over line and length. Ambrose operated to an off-stump line, invariably hit the seam, cut the ball away from the right-hander.

Walsh, made the delivery jag back, could get it to climb nastily from an awkward action, and was extremely difficult for the batsmen to pick. And both gave very few free-hits. The pressure was on all the time.

The essential difference between the two was that Ambrose could react with anger on occasions while Walsh would barely show any emotions on the cricket field.

Even during his moments of disappointments, when the umpires ruled the other way, or a simple catch was put down, he would do no more than crook his face, momentarily, before walking back, lazily to the top of his bowling mark.

There were times in the later years when he appeared distinctly tired, yet he would will himself on for one final fling at the fag end of the day. A captain's dream, the ultimate team-man.

He led the team himself in the mid-90s, a rare honour for a West Indian paceman, but was forced out by the `wise men' under unfortunate circumstances just when he and his team were beginning to get their act together.

Under Walsh, the West Indians had shown character bucking the odds to score a famous series levelling victory in Mohali, '94; this was in sharp contrast to the capitulation in the coming years.

Walsh was hurt, and even as all kinds of speculations were flying around, chose to carry on manfully. The world of cricket was much the better for it.

The Jamaican was as niggardly as they come in the limited overs matches, striking early blows, and choking the batsmen in the end overs - both a terminator and a road-block.

And it was indeed a cruel blow to Walsh, when the selectors omitted him from the '92 World Cup on grounds that he didn't have a strong throwing arm. It's a different matter altogether that Walsh excelled in the two subsequent World Cups - '96 and '99. So much for the wisdom of the selectors!

It was in a World Cup game in 1987 that Walsh took us to the very heart of sporting values - the Salim Jaffer incident needs no elaboration here - and this spirit of fairplay continued to reside in him all through.

Even in the concluding chapter of his stint with the West Indies team, Walsh's ability to snare his victims never showed any signs of abating. In fact, things only got better, and he remained a supreme scalp hunter.

The Jamaican prised out a stunning Test 66 batsmen in '2000, in his 37th year, a tribute to his spirit, fitness and skill. And Walsh emerged the most successful bowler in either teams with 25 in his final series against the formidable Proteas.

He could have carried on...but Walsh in deeds and thoughts went beyond mere numbers. He went beyond mere boundaries too. Selfless, unlike some greats who bit the dust in their last days.

Yes, Courtney Walsh lives on. The maroon cap...and the thousand memories.

S. DINAKAR

Chennai

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