Eulogies

Retirement. Over the near ten years that this blog has been running, many great players have slipped, always voluntarily, from the limelight: Warne, McGrath, Gilchrist, Lara, Ponting, Tendulkar.

There is usually a pattern, certainly for those who, even marginally, outstay their welcome. The form starts to slip, the player's age is repeatedly mentioned, possible retirement dates are proposed and debated. Then, when it has happened, eulogies are written.

I should know. I've written many of them myself.

When Shivnarine Chanderpaul recently announced his 'retirement' (He bats on for Guyana, which is hardly surprising. Will there ever be a time when, even in his head, Shiv isn't batting?) many tributes were paid. The best of these, by Siddhartha Vaidyanathan and Liam Cromar, emphasized Chanderpaul's status as almost the last of a kind. The batsman who is best known for being very, very difficult to dismiss. In the art, or the science, or perhaps just the bloody-minded discipline, of outlasting bowlers, Chanderpaul was the nonpareil.

He was, of course, far more than a mere accumulator; the thing I always liked most about him was the counter-intuitive contrast between the ugliness of his stance and the transparent class of many of his strokes. With Chanderpaul gone we have Alastair Cook, who does a very similar job, but without quite the accumulative powers or the class. This, perhaps, is the greatest mark of Chanderpaul's status as an outlier; he batted longer, and harder, and in poorer teams, and in greater denial of the traditions of his country's batting (the country, lest we forget, of Kanhai, of Fredericks, of Lloyd, of Hooper), than anyone else in the last twenty years, even Alastair Cook. With the way the game is changing, nobody will ever do that again.

When anyone retires, personal memories come to the fore. After the Test match between the West Indies and England at Lord's in July 2004 - a match in which Chanderpaul made undefeated scores of 128 and 97 in the face of heavy defeat - I stood at the door of the Long Room as he prepared to run the gauntlet of the supporters massed outside the pavilion's rear door. His face is a mask of characteristic seriousness and intensity; he has felt the pain of defeat once again, despite his best efforts. He wants away, but you sense that he would rather be able to leave in private, without having to deal with the adulation which he will receive. But the thing that leaves the strongest impression is his physical stature. He is one of the slightest people I have ever seen in an adult sporting context. Seemingly he is a boy in a man's world. Except, of course, in the matter of batting.

Now we have had the international retirement of Brendon McCullum. This is different in many senses; for one he is still at the peak of his powers, and, much to his credit, he is finishing while people are still asking, as the old aphorism goes, 'why?' instead of 'why not?'. For another he was never anyone's idea of an accumulator. While Chanderpaul would keep a contest alive to the end of his days, McCullum's way was to grab a match by the scruff of the neck and throw it out of the window.

As Rick Walton's superb, thought-provoking piece on the 'Wondrous Carnage' created by McCullum at Christchurch shows, he can provoke varying and contradictory emotions, but what McCullum deserves most respect for is the way in which he has been at the fulcrum of everything that has changed the world's perception of New Zealand cricket. New Zealand play uncomplicated, attacking cricket, but they do it with a lightness of touch and a lack of sourness which is refreshing and distinctive. Apart from the short period in the eighties when they had the advantage of one of the greatest bowlers of all time, New Zealand have never been anyone's idea of world-beaters, least of all their own.

Now, though, if you watch cricket in New Zealand you can watch it at the Hagley Oval, the sanctuary of post-earthquake Christchurch, and you can watch the batting of Kane Williamson, which is as good as anything of its kind that can presently be seen anywhere on earth.

In population terms, New Zealand is a small country at the end of the earth. It has its vivid natural beauty, it has its rugby, parodically it has its sheep.

Now, thanks in large part to Brendon McCullum, it has cricket.

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.

Just Doing What He Does

It is early Spring in England. As I write, the rain is lashing against the window. The West Indies are due back in England soon. This, and the fact that he has just completed ten thousand runs in Test cricket, means that people are writing about Shivnarine Chanderpaul again.

They do this every few years. The rest of the time he just goes on doing what he does.

I can only recommend the outstanding pieces by Alex Bowden and Rob Steen which Cricinfo has carried in the last few days, but I can also add a few thoughts of my own.

The essence of great West Indian batsmanship is as hard to define as most other things in the game. But, if you were going to try, you’d probably come up with something which comprised the trailblazing style and run-hunger of Headley, the savage power of Weekes, Lloyd and Richards, the technical rigour of Greenidge and the elegance and skill of Lara.

Would you even think about Shivnarine Chanderpaul? Well, unless you were Guyanese, or drunk, or possibly both, you wouldn’t. And you’d be right, because, unless you really look, there’s little that Chanderpaul does that is different, or unusual, or exceptional, apart, of course from the crabbiest stance seen in international cricket since the retirement of Peter Willey, and what sometimes appears to be an inability to get out. As with so many players, though, the sum of the parts is greater than the parts themselves, and, in the case of Shivnarine Chanderpaul, that sum is really superb.

But, as I say, you have to look.

I started looking back in the nineties. The first time I came across Chanderpaul was when England toured the West Indies in early 1994. When Brian Lara pulled Chris Lewis for four to break the world individual Test batting record at the Antigua Recreation Ground, a slight young left-hander was at the other end, 70-odd not out.

Other people were looking too. I didn’t have Sky at the time so I had to rely on TMS. Trevor Bailey, always a shrewd judge of a player, liked him. During the latter stages of their partnership he posed the question ‘was Lara any better when he was nineteen?’. Of course, nobody knew, but it was pretty obvious that, as players went, Chanderpaul wasn’t bad.

I first saw him in the flesh at Taunton, early in the West Indies tour of England in 1995. Apart from the way he stood at the wicket, the thing that first struck me was the contrast between the way he looked and the way he batted. Seeing him line up, all spiky limbs, furrowed brow and jumpy, unorthodox stance, you fancied him as a journeyman blocker. Then you saw him hit the ball.

In spite of the way he appeared, there was a co-ordinated ease of timing and speed of reaction about Chanderpaul which immediately marked him out as a class player. Anything full was defended with a straightness of bat which belied his whippy, angular backlift, while anything over-pitched and drifting towards his pads would be turned through the leg side with perfect timing, left hand firmly in control. Anything short would be cuffed through midwicket, the same left hand keeping the ball on the ground. The scoreboard always seemed to be ticking over.

Throughout the seventeen years that have since passed, Chanderpaul has remained the impregnable, impassive, rock upon which the fragile West Indies batting has been anchored. Even before Lara retired he was one of the three go-to men for crease occupation and run-hunger in the world, with only the more widely-lauded Rahul Dravid and Jacques Kallis anywhere close. But then Chanderpaul always had a counter-intuitive ability to take attacks apart which those two simply didn't have, and, while as he has grown older and more careworn because of his team's decline he has become more defensively obstinate, the strokes remain there, and, on a good day, when the situation demands, they can still be seen. An overall Twenty20 strike rate of 107, and the memory of innings such as this tell you all you need to know about that aspect of his game. If you need to know more you can just think about the fact that he has batted for more than 1000 Test match minutes without being dismissed on four occasions.

After he had defied England in defeat with unbeaten innings of 128 and 97 at Lord's in 2004, I was hanging around in the pavilion at the game's end when Chanderpaul came down the stairs from the West Indian dressing room. He was later than most of his team-mates, and you fancied that he had taken the defeat a bit harder than the rest. He cut a slight, childlike, pre-occupied figure, and there was more than a hint of distance and unease in his eyes as he prepared to face the crowd of fans outside the pavilion door. What this suggested, and the years since have done nothing to diminish the impression, was that Chanderpaul doesn't really like recognition, or adulation, or confrontation; he simply loves to bat. In fact, he exists to do so.

Watching him against Australia recently, especially in the field, you couldn't help thinking, as with Ponting, about the things he'd seen. This is a man who played with Desmond Haynes, and Richie Richardson, and Courtney, and Curtly, and Brian, who began his career at a time when the West Indies still had a hint of invincibility about them. A man who has done more than anyone else to stem the tide of decline but who has been forced to give best to it time and again while still coming back for more, mainly, you suspect, because he knows no other way.

Next week he will be back in England for his sixth tour. Despite the presence in the side of a young batsman of obvious quality in Darren Bravo, it will be down to him to hold his side together. And in an English early season, with Anderson or Broad or Finn or Bresnan or Onions coming at them, they'll need some holding.

With Chanderpaul, though, you know that there will be no self-pity or reflection or world-weariness. He will not lament his fate.

He will, simply, bat. It is what he does.

'Whatever knowledge and experience I have gained...'

The recent Test series between the West Indies and India passed without comment here. I saw bits and pieces of each of the games but rarely enough to hold the attention. The largely deserted stands at Sabina Park and the Kensington Oval were unbelievably depressing, although the third game in Dominica showed the value of taking Test cricket to grounds, and countries, where it hasn't been before.

Both sides had their issues. India weakened by injuries and the need for players to rest but struggling through; West Indies in the same position they've been for years. A general dearth of quality but the constant hope that better lies around the corner. For the moment hope lies with the gradual progress of Ravi Rampaul and the arrival of Kirk Edwards and Devendra Bishoo.

The same spectre - that of the inevitable retirement of senior players - hangs over both teams. In the case of the West Indies, as his thirty-seventh birthday looms, Shivnarine Chanderpaul is bound to be the focus of their concerns. In the final years of a career that has been as testing and stressful, but still as brilliant, as they come, it is easy to wonder how long he can, or will want, to go on. A part of their side since 1994, and now their most capped player, it seems hard to imagine the West Indies without Shiv.

Welcome reassurance was provided by what he said in an interview conducted in the glowing aftermath of his second innings century in Dominica, an innings which he felt was among his best:

'High point? I'm still looking for it. There is still more to come. Whatever knowledge and experience I have gained I would like to pass it on and help the other members of the team with their game.'

We look forward to seeing him try.

Batting Without Boundaries

As I thought, last night's truncated game at the Oval could have gone either way. Ultimately it was no surprise that it went to the side with the batting line-up which was more suited to the game they were playing, and more fool me for forgetting about the priceless presence of Ronnie and Shiv in the Windies middle-order when I was writing them off the other day.

England's bowlers did a good job of getting them out of jail more than once in the competition, but there's only so far you can go when you have nobody below number four capable of playing with the type of fluency and power which should be a pre-requisite in the second half of a T20 innings. That England went from the eleventh over to the twentieth without a single boundary yesterday says it all.

Not that their selection helped. Why select a capable hitter like Graham Napier for the squad and then leave him on the bench throughout, especially, as yesterday, when Mascarenhas (who had hardly set the world on fire with the bat at Lord's on Sunday) didn't play either?

Walking Wisden

It took England from 1969 to 2000 to win back the Wisden Trophy, a prize which, for much of that time, seemed to have passed permanently into the hands of the West Indies. It's taken just a further eight and a half years and four series for it to be lost again, a result which would barely have been foreseen a year ago but which points accurately to where the two sides find themselves in the early months of 2009.

Despite the subsequent conservatism of their approach, West Indies just about deserved to win, if only because, in Jamaica, they were the only side to strike a conclusive blow against the pattern of batting domination which defined the series. What is more, there are clear signs that they're finally achieving levels of fitness, discipline and steel which have eluded them ever since their great years ended in the mid-nineties. For this there's little doubting the influence of the two Australians, John Dyson and especially Brendan Nash, whose gritty ballast in the lower middle-order has been an utterly vital element in their improvement. Then, of course, you have the fact that the players so obviously want to play for their captain, you have Sarwan achieving sustained excellence for the first time, you have Shiv just doing what he always does and you have Denesh Ramdin growing into his international shoes in a way no young West Indian keeper has done in living memory.

England continue to look like a side failing to add up to the sum of its parts. The bowling acked penetration, some of the decision making (especially around the Antigua second innings) was clumsy and destructive, the number three position, with Shah conspicuously failing to take his overdue opportunity, remains unfilled. Strauss, with the bat, was brilliant, Pietersen was Pietersen and Graeme Swann showed the type of wit and competitiveness which will stand him in good stead as he goes forward, for the time being, as his country's number one spinner.

England will have an excellent opportunity to regain the Wisden Trophy again within a few months, but, with Australia rediscovering their poise in South Africa, a much sterner battle is sure to follow.

Making the Running

In the end, having made the running throughout the game, England will have been very disappointed not to have completed their first victory in Antigua since Tests there began in 1981.

However, while Sarwan, Chanderpaul and their lower-order associates deserve a lot of credit for batting out for the draw in a manner which their side would never have done a few years ago, England didn't help themselves. Not necessarily in failing to enforce the follow-on - although they would probably have won if they had - but in failing to bat with enough urgency, the mad decision to use a nightwatchman at the end of the third day, and an over-cautious declaration, which owed much to what happened in Chennai before Christmas.

Not that you'd want to criticize Strauss too harshly just yet. The signs, both from 2006 and now, are that captaincy brings out the best in his batting, and he didn't half play well on the first day in St.John's.

Throwback

A day's Test cricket yesterday, in two very different parts of the world, which was, in many ways, a throwback to earlier times. On the one hand you had a previously unconsidered Kiwi seamer (no offence, Mr.O'Brien) making life difficult for England (with obvious assistance from his captain) after England's own insipid efforts in the field had matched the slackness of the Kiwis' running. England were also pasted all over the field by a young batsman of unmistakeable promise and class; it's hard to believe now that only a few months ago good New Zealand judges were wondering whether Ross Taylor was going to be any more than a one-day player.

On the other, in Kingston, you had everything going off: Shiv Chanderpaul gets knocked unconscious by a Brett Lee bouncer but gets up to record yet another century and then watches from the field as Edwards and Powell leave Australia rocking at a close score of 17 for 4.

So, just like old times. England struggling, West Indies fast bowlers creating mayhem and reverse swing the king. For all the brilliance of Taylor and Chanderpaul's heroics (how many batsmen have ever sold their wicket more dearly?), the highlight of the day for me was the delivery from Brett Lee which shattered Daren Powell's stumps as the West Indian innings declined.

At about 90 miles an hour it started to reverse in the last third of its flight before torpedoing Powell's middle and leg stumps. Far better players than Powell would have stood no chance at all, and for an instant I felt as though I was right back in the 1990s, with Waqar Younis persecuting a range of helpless England batsmen (Graeme Hick at Lord's, 1996, came to mind immediately).

Bloody magnificent.

Very Interesting

After a hard evening in the indoor nets last night (I must have bowled the equivalent of about 15 overs, and my body was aching when I started) I was vegetating on the couch with the latest instalment of West Indies v Sri Lanka when something very interesting happened. Shiv Chanderpaul hit ten (4, 6) off the last two balls of the game to give his side victory.

I couldn't recall when I last got so excited during an ODI, especially at 10.30 in the evening, but it just showcased again the versatility of this wonderful player.

Rob has a great photo of the aftermath here.

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?

Ronnie and Shiv

It was great to see West Indies complete their first Test win at Port-of-Spain since 2000 last night, with the majority of the runs scored by the two classy Guyanese occupants of their middle-order, the enigmatic but resolutely classy Sarwan and their rock of ages, Shivnarine Chanderpaul.

Like every other Windies victory over recent years it probably doesn't mean very much - they remain a side with too many weaknesses to be capable of winning consistently at home, let alone away, but it did bring a few more people into the ground and give an idea of what things might be like if they ever get their act together properly.

Australia, coming soon, will be a much stiffer test.

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.

Going Nowhere

Well, I've seen better Test series, but the one which ended in Durham yesterday did serve a few useful purposes. It confirmed that Shivnarine Chanderpaul is an extraordinary batsman. Maybe not genuinely great, but certainly genuinely extraordinary.

Has there ever been another Test series in which one batsman has been so far ahead of all his peers? I don't know, but I doubt it.

Lara usually had Chanderpaul himself, and Sarwan. After Lord's Chanderpaul had nobody, although Bravo, as always, did his best and Gayle and Morton briefly succeeded in spite of themselves. The rest were nowhere.

The series also showed that there surely can't be any further for the West Indies to fall. Their batting lacks technique, their bowling lacks fitness, finesse, pace and variety, their fielding is an abject shambles. Many of their players - with Gayle the worst offender - look as though they just don't care. This really shows in the field, and, until more of their players can acquire the determination, desire and strength of character of Chanderpaul and Bravo (or even Edwards or Sammy), they're going nowhere.

During the Old Trafford Test it was surprising and concerning to hear Tony Cozier say for the first time that he wondered whether the West Indies would benefit from a sabbatical from Test cricket in which they played other countries' 'A' teams in order to give themselves a chance to regroup, perhaps win some games and restore their lost confidence.

Has it really come to this?

Winners (and Winners)

There were a number of winners at Old Trafford: England, who finally wrapped up a series they always seemed destined to win, Monty Panesar, who took six more wickets on the way to his first ten-wicket Test match, and Steve Harmison who finally, finally, seemed to be getting back to somewhere near his best. The balls which put paid to Taylor and Edwards were fresh out of his heyday, circa 2004.

But the biggest winner of all, in my opinion, was Chanderpaul. His typically resolute and utterly magnificent century didn't secure victory (do they ever?) but he showed again why he's fit, despite all the illusory rough edges, to be spoken of in the same breath as his nation's greatest batsmen.

He's his own man, though. Not the power of Lloyd, Kanhai or Kallicharran - just heaps of rough-hewn Guyanese technique leavened with timing, dedication and courage.

With Lara gone for good and Sarwan out he's carrying the weight of the side on his tiny shoulders and he's doing it well.

The West Indies lost but the way they came back in the second innings seemed like a victory of sorts, however tiny and irrelevant.

Maybe there's hope.

Shiv

I've always been a big fan of Shivnarine Chanderpaul. Far more so than other more fashionable West Indian batsmen, apart, of course, from Lara.

I'm not totally sure why, but it's got something to do with the contrast between his dissonant, ugly technique and the fact that, when you look past it, he's one of the classiest operators you could ever wish to see.

A particular personal memory is of seeing him leaving the Lord's pavilion after his memorable double of 97 and 128, both undefeated, in West Indies' defeat there in 2004. Close to, he looked like a lost schoolboy, the smallest and slightest professional sportsman I think I've ever seen, yet capable of spending most of the match seeing off Harmison, Hoggard, Flintoff, Jones and Giles.

With West Indies currently struggling to contain Sri Lanka in Chanderpaul's home country, Rahul Bhattacharya's typically erudite account of a visit to Chanderpaul's family at Cricinfo makes interesting reading.