This is the West Indies

For a West Indian fast bowler Kemar Roach is quite a small man, and, with his gentle features and unassuming body language, he gives off a slight air of reticence. When it comes to height, aggression and the iron confidence that accompanies great skill, he's no Ambrose, or Croft or Marshall.

The West Indies have been getting beaten for so long that many of their players carry an air of pessimism and fractured confidence without even being aware of it. This, along with the technical issues which are seemingly always there - Roach's no-balls, poor shot selection by the upper order, confused running between the wickets and vulnerable fielding - is what Gibson and Sammy are striving to overcome. Small strides have been made in England over the past week or two, although placid pitches have helped and a relatively small number of players - Shiv (of course), Samuels, Sammy and Roach himself - have really excelled.

More, much more, is needed from others and some may not be capable of it.

This is the West Indies. They never are.

It's easy to feel sorry for modern West Indian players. Even for those of us who lived through it, the era when their predecessors exuded invincibility has long since faded into the past. Documentaries are made about it, YouTube is full of it, but, when all is said, it's just so last century. For more years than is decent, the West Indian Test team has been a pitiful thing.

For me, the most exciting moment of the match which concluded today at Trent Bridge was the second ball which Roach bowled to Jonny Bairstow yesterday. It was a perfectly directed short ball of high pace, heading for the throat, impossible for anyone, let alone an inexperienced Test batsman like Bairstow, to play with composure, or ease, or lack of fear. For a second or two you could have been back watching Close against Holding at Old Trafford, or Peter Willey facing Patterson at Kingston, or Robin Smith battling away, seemingly for his very life, against Bishop and the rest in Bridgetown.

Then there is something as apparently inconsequential as the West Indies cap. A deep and meaningful shade of maroon, bearing the badge which all of the combined territories' very best players - and they have been among the greatest the game itself has ever produced - have worn. With the sole exception of Chanderpaul, none of the players who wore it today will ever be talked of as great, but the cap links them to the past and brings you up short if you ever find yourself thinking of them as just another team.

This is the West Indies. Don't ever forget it.

These evocations of the past must be relished and clung to as tangible representations of the hope of a better future.

For without those there is nothing.

Anticipating Wisden

I haven't seen the 2008 Wisden yet, but there seems to be a lot of talk around about some of the comments Scyld Berry's made, together with the choice of Ian Bell as one of the Five Cricketers of the year, alongside the more deserving Shivnarine Chanderpaul, Ottis Gibson, Ryan Sidebottom and Zaheer Khan, at least two of whom were absolutely obvious selections.

Having not read any of Berry's comments in full I can't say very much, but I'm pleased he appears to have said something about the possibility of on-field violence and the duty of the ICC to try to prevent it happening. It's something I've been concerned about for a long time, and the events of the Australian winter only reinforced my views. I don't, though, have very much confidence in the ICC's ability to get to grips with the issue before (or even after) something serious happens. That said, they're probably in a flat spin at the moment about the effect which the forces of Indian commerce are threatening to have on world cricket. And if they're not, they should be.

I yield to absolutely no-one in my admiration for Ian Bell. As I've often stated, if he ever realizes just how good he could be he could become very good indeed (although I'm starting to doubt if he'll ever have the iron confidence which all really great players have, as that's something that's very hard - and probably impossible - to develop), but his achievements last summer don't in my opinion match up with the general standard set for Wisden selections. While acknowledging the quality he showed in the ODI arena (which he hasn't built upon since), he made 417 runs in 12 Test innings with one hundred and three fifties. Good, yes, but hardly briliant for someone with his potential.

Why not wait until he really starts to blossom?

Staying the Same, Changing

With the 2007 English season finally out of the way and the first World Twenty20 also put to bed, the mind turns to everything else that's going on in the perpetually revolving, often crazily over-burdened, cricket world.

Australia in India, South Africa in Pakistan, England in Sri Lanka. There is, as always, a lot happening, but the more things change the more they remain the same. As I write Jacques Kallis is unbeaten on 118 at the end of the first day in Karachi and Mahela Jayawardena has top-scored for Sri Lanka against England in Dambulla.

Elsewhere, though, things have moved on. It was announced at the end of last week that Allan Donald would not be taking up a full-time appointment as England's bowling coach and would instead be joining his old team-mate Ashley Giles back in the brave new world of Edgbaston. This is a pity, as Donald clearly had a beneficial effect on the performances of England's wayward seamers last summer and it remains to be seen whether or not Ottis Gibson, for all his magnificence in Durham colours, can do the same.

In India, meanwhile, the national 'A' team and their South African counterparts finally managed to get on the pitch for their first (or third) ODI in Rajkot. India gained a narrow victory, largely thanks to Subramaniam Badrinath, the Tamil Nadu player who's been hovering around the side for the last couple of years or so and who's built up a nice portfolio of decent performances. I noticed last week that he's been given a 'Grade D' contract by the BCCI; it'll be interesting to see if he can kick on, as India, whatever their recent achievements in the longest and shortest forms of the international game, will soon be needing some high-quality reinforcements.

The same might be said of England's batting once this afternoon is out...

Hampshire Hammered

It was good to see Durham, the newest English first-class county, and one which brings through more than its fair share of good young players in this era of reliance on Kolpak players, win their first major trophy with a hammering of Hampshire in the final of the Friends Provident Trophy at Lord's.

You wouldn't want to single out anyone in particular, but Shiv Chanderpaul was his usual one-day self - taciturn, enterprising, fluent, often brilliant - and another West Indian veteran, Ottis Gibson, really set the victory up when he took wickets with the first two balls of the Hampshire innings in the Saturday afternoon gloom.

The local heroes included Paul Collingwood, Liam Plunkett, Neil Killeen and Graham Onions, all of whom have been around for a while and have received their share of recognition at one level or another. And then there was the young wicket-keeper batsman Phil Mustard, who set their innings on its way with a belligerent top-order 49 and then kept excellently as the screw was turned in the field.

It was also great to watch and listen to the interviews which Gibson gave to Sky and TMS before play this morning; full of personal reminiscences about growing up in Barbados, Malcolm Marshall, what happened to West Indies cricket and his feeling of needing to go on proving himself because he never made a go of international cricket.

Quite a guy, quite a club.

There's Always Something

Aside from events on the field it was an interesting few days - a near monsoon on Friday, with play, amazingly, following a couple of hours later; Ottis Gibson taking ten wickets in an innings on Saturday; and, most impressive and moving of all, RP Singh taking off his cap to acknowledge the applause of the members in the Long Room on Sunday in a gesture at once old-fashioned and deeply impressive.

That's what I like about trips to London (and Lord's). There's always something happening.