The fascinating side of cricket

In these super fast times, where spot news reports are part of our daily cricketing diet, one forgets to respect the literary side of the game

The fascinating side of cricket

In these super fast times, where spot news reports are part of our daily cricketing diet, one forgets to respect the literary side of the game. Marcus Couto, a first-class umpire and most of all, a great cricket lover, has put together a collection of works from Vasant Raiji, cricket historian par excellence apart from being India's oldest living first-class cricketer at 91.

Cricket Memoirs ufffd Men and Matches of Bygone Days will release soon and Marcus was kind enough to send me an advance copy published under the Ernest Publications banner.

As expected, Raiji's essay on Sir Don Bradman, written for the book Sir Don Bradman A C 1998 makes it in Couto's compilation. The start of the piece is gripping: "Indians worship a multitude of Gods. In Sir Donald Bradman they have their God of cricket. God is perfect. In the minds of the Indians, Bradman is the perfect batsman. God is unseen. Indians have not seen Bradman play..."

According to Richie Benaud, there have been only two cricket legends in Australia ufffd Don Bradman and Victor Trumper. The latter was a fantastic batsman who matched Bradman's aura if not his stupendous scores.

Trumper died young ufffd at 37 ufffd and Raiji quotes famous English writer Neville Cardus' obituary: "The Gods of cricket loved him, so he died young." Perhaps the best tribute to the great exponent of the art of batsmanship came from the pen of Sir Pelham Warner: "When he walked out to bat every blade of grass bowed to him."

Trumper was a wonderful man. According to Raiji, he was urged by his friends to open a sports shop in Sydney to cash in on his popularity, but he decided against it since lesser popular teammate Syd Gregory had a sports equipment business too and Trumper didn't want to eat into his cash flow.

Somehow, we get the feeling all kind men belonged to the yesteryear. Of course, it's an illusion. Raiji's work has the financial support of Sachin Bajaj, another cricket enthusiast, who tells me that he plans to come out with a compilation of Indian-born writer Dicky Rutnagur's work. That would be an apt tribute to a fine journalist, who now lives in the United Kingdom.

There is a noble cause attached to Raiji's book. The news comes on the back cover: "The entire sale proceeds of this book will go to the unsung heroes of Mumbai cricket."

Knowing Marcus' heart of gold, there is no doubt that the deserving will benefit. This one will beat all his right decisions as an umpire.

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