As I watch the ‘Agneepath Series’ at the spectacular MCG, I had my notions revisit the legacy of the OZ juggernaut.
When Sehwag was dropped by the wicket keeper (few minutes before tea), I was like “Omigosh, this isn’t the Aussie side I have witnessed in the last 18 years” and my pandora wasn’t hinting at nothing.
I still remember those days when I used to cuddle myself up to watch a series down under (I refused to replicate those efforts when I had my exams knocking the door and usually, I am under prepared) and an inevitable Indian scorecard of 33-3 or 21-2 would invite my sober eyes. We would end up losing the series by miles (Boss would have scorched few relentless knocks during the course of those defeats but for a losing cause) and we would end the tour with McGrath and Warnie going home with buckets of wickets. I am talking about the world champion Australian side of my era. It doesn’t belong to them any more.
With due respect to the Pontings, McGraths and Warnes, but they were an admonishing asset to the Aussie armoury for years and I, by all means, miss their valour on the inimitable cricketing field. An Adam Gilchrist will be hard to find in the vicinity for half a century, to say the least. Evidently, great bowling attacks had the demeanour to destroy the famous line ups of the world and to our dismay, this generation doesn’t have even one to it’s credit.
The Windies were a Prophet in the cricketing annals for heralding such fire with the ball. Garner, Roberts, Holding, Marshall, Walsh, Ambrose.. I look back at those names with awe and their superiority was stuff that legends are made of. The OZs had that touch of blemish-less arrogance for almost 2 decades but then, as they say, “Even Caesar’s rule came to an end”.
I loved watching those stalwarts as much as I hated watching India crumble. Today, we are the world champions, but with all my oscillating emotions in close quarters, I don’t think we have an Indian bowling side that could take 20 wickets in a test match. We are a phenomenal batting colossus (my equations would change when I fork out the Big-3 out of the playing eleven but I will talk about that in my next ordeal) but our exploits with the adjacent quarter is pedestrian.
As I craft my thoughts over, we are at a steady 147-2. I am smiling with plummeted resistance.
One thought on “When dominance was ecstasy..”
Tame submission and hugely self inflicted.