For the Love of the Game

What draws us as West Indians to love this game so? Even though our team is at the bottom of the pile, thousands of us still find ourselves up at all kinds of ungodly hours watching this team play.

This is especially seen in the older folks in West Indian society. The youth of the region nowadays won't be caught dead waking up at 5:30am to watch the West Indies play in England, or stay up until two o'clock or so in the morning watching the West Indies get mauled in Sydney. Why do some of us subject ourselves to this kind of torture?

What makes us want to follow this game so much that we deprive ourselves so many hours of sleep to be like zombies the next day?

I don't know exactly when I grew to love this game like I do now. I think it was at the age of 4 or 5 when I had my first vivid memory of seeing cricket on television. Back in 1988-89 for the World Series in Australia, I remember waking up one night to see my dad in front of the television watching a cricket game, and sitting there watching it with him until I fell asleep.

Then, my grandfather regularly telling me stories of the great West Indian players of yesteryear, listening to him with a twinkle in my eye as he described how Gerry Alexander took, the Australians I think it was, to task, taking blows about the body, leaving the field and, with the West Indies in trouble, coming back out bandaged up to guide his team to victory, or putting the total to some respectability.

Stories like these are ones that make you listen in awe and dream of becoming a West Indian player and bringing glory to the region.

How do the youths of today obtain this love for the game, which sees 11, 12 and 13 year olds sleeping while hugging their bats, clutching a ball as if bowling an off break during sleep? It seems that this is almost lost today; children just play cricket for the hell of it. I remember listening to my grandfather as he told me stories of Sonny Ramadhin learning and perfecting his art as he bowled anything that was round and resembled a cricket ball. What I remember most was hearing how he used limes, and the next chance I got, I stormed my grandfather's lime tree picking out most of them and bowling for hours in the garage. Do the young do this any more?

I ask this because it is somewhat disheartening to see the poor, spineless and stupid performances given by the current West Indies team. There are still instances of West Indian brilliance, but the bad by far outweigh the good. Do they know what they represent?

When I was 12 I read my first cricket book, a book about Kanhai and Gibbs. What a brilliant read! I think it was at this time, backed by all the stories my grand father told me, that I really fell in love with the sport. As was the case with me, family probably plays the greatest role in having someone love the sport like this and supporting this once great team.

Perhaps if the current team's performances were better the youth would take a greater interest in the game and fall in love with it like I did. This brings me back to the original question: What makes us love this game with so much passion that we may be willing to die for West Indies cricket? I know if I were given the choice of my life or West Indies becoming the great team they once were, with out thinking twice I would rather see West Indies cricket at its best.