Enough Is Enough!

Sun, Apr 29, '18

by TONY BECCA

Commentary

When I was a boy, there was nothing to me like West Indies cricket. The names of players like Worrell, Weekes, and Walcott, Ramadhin, and Valentine were like music to my ears.

When I became a young man, West Indies cricket was still dear to me, so much so that even when Maurice Foster, my schoolmate, was not selected to the team, even at Sabina Park, and when Jamaicans called for us to go it alone, I still remained committed to West Indies cricket.

Names like Sobers and Kanhai, Hall, Griffith, and Gibbs were like distant drums calling me to the game.

In the days of Rowe and Richards, Lloyd, Richardson, Lara, Roberts, Holding, and Dujon, etcetera, I was still a West Indian man, win, lose, or draw.

I never imagined, or rather, I could never have imagined, cricket, or Test cricket, without my beloved West Indies, a West Indies, which was, a time or two, the champions of the world, and at one time, the team rated as the greatest of all time.

Today, as all those famous names recede further and further into the past, and the glorious deeds of the team disappear into history, I wonder if I am dreaming, or if I was dreaming.

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