Having Sachin, the cricket world’s closest thing to a God, bat for your team must be thrilling. Caribbean fans should know – Lara, a genius, scored almost twelve thousand test runs in his sparkling career for the West Indies. Chanderpaul, likened to Atlas himself, is still going, 150 tests strong.
But as much pleasure as a superstar like Sachin gives to his adoring fans, admiring him while he flays the bowlers that are supposed to be representing my team has always been a schizophrenic experience. It is one thing to doff your hat in reverence, but it’s quite another when you’re on the receiving end – I doubt that even the most diehard Tyson fan would delight in a right hook to their own jaw.
That’s why it’s hard to write about Sachin. I admire him to bits, really I do – power, grace, class, statistics, runs here, there and everywhere. I guess I just could never go wild for him because, every once in a while, he would go against my team – by proxy, he was batting against me. I know his fans, in excess of a billion, bleed blue, but the last time I checked, my heart was still Windies Maroon. READ MORE http://ow.ly/qRasB" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;