Shivnarine Chanderpaul: The torch-bearer of West Indian cricket in its dark days

Sat, Aug 17, '13

Watching Shivnarine Chanderpaul coming out to bat for the first time can be a treat in itself. The walk to the wicket is the perfect antithesis of Viv Richards; if Richards’s body language reflected an aura of domination and confidence, Chanderpaul’s is full of an unmistakable nothingness. It could well have been a person walking back home from a grocery with dreadful chores like having to cook and doing dishes later that evening playing on your mind.

He takes those steps to the crease for what seems like an eternity; takes guard; removes a bail and nails it to the ground with the handle of the bat with the meticulous diligence of a sculptor; then he stands up and gets his gathers his apparently clumsy self together.

It is now that you notice the black anti-glare stickers under his eyes; if you have very, very good eyesight you will notice the word Mueller written on them; had it been legible it would probably have been a great way of advertising. All that is quite singular, but it is absolutely nothing compared to what is to follow.