da betway： So the time has come to say farewell
Charlie Austin22-Mar-2003So the time has come to say farewell. An old man’s hesitation and tardyrunning may have cost him the chance of a fitting swansong but the memorieswill live long anyhow. Aravinda de Silva, Sri Lanka’s greatest batsman andthe longest-serving player in international cricket, has finally called timeon an glorious career that stretches back nearly two decades.© ReutersDespite being 37-years-old and balding fast, he remains capable with bat andball. Indeed, Sri Lankan cricket officials have already tried to persuadehim to stay on for another six months. But de Silva, like any greatperformer, appreciates the value of timing. Money is not a concern and thereis now nothing left to prove. For a man always motivated by the bigoccasion, a World Cup exit was perfect and now he will begin a new life.Unlike so many professional cricketers who hang up their boots and wonder”what next?” de Silva’s future is already mapped out. Coaching is not hiscalling, although he is a master cricket strategist and technician, and hissoft voice will not sit well alongside the orchestrated hysteria of TonyGreig on microphone. Instead, he seeks the challenge of business; a fieldthat tests the same fierce competitiveness that saw him amass 15,645 runs inTests and ODIs.© ReutersAlready he has proved himself a sound commercial operator: he has been aboard member of one of Colombo’s largest conglomerates, sold mobileconnections to the war-ravaged north, set-up and sold one of Colombo’sleading Indian restaurants, silently invested in a series of other venturesand played the stock market with the same dexterity that allowed him to milkthe world’s best spinners. When de Silva moves, Colombo’s businessmen watch.Scoring runs and making money requires ruthlessness. And despite beingblessed with the kind of charm that made Canterbury’s tea ladies melt,reminding them of bygone eras when cricketers were gentlemen, de Silva isruthless.But de Silva will not be remembered for his commercial exploits, no matterhow great they will be. De Silva and Sri Lankan cricket have been joined atthe hip during the last 19 years, walking side by side on a journey ofself-discovery. When he first strode out to bat in international cricket,against New Zealand at Moratuwa way back in March 1984, Sri Lanka had onlysix ODI victories under their belt and were still two years away from theirfirst Test win. Today, as he lays down his blade, 178 ODIs and 32 Tests havenow been bagged and World Cup semi-final appearances invoke disappointmentnot joy. During that two decade journey there has been a transformation: ofman and country.© CricInfoDuring those early years, Sri Lanka were the whipping boys of internationalcricket: smiling, charming, stylish, talented, but, all too frequently,losers. De Silva was cast in a similar mould: unfailingly polite,soft-spoken, an artisan with the bat but one who specialised in cameoperformances, apparently content to play second fiddle to the main act.Dubbed Mad Max for his daring approach and unquenchable urge to dominate, hestarred frequently but all too briefly, lighting up a game with hispotential but falling short of fulfillment. Even today his statistics,astonishing as they are, tells the tale: on 75 occasions he has passed fiftyin an ODI but only 11 of those were converted to centuries. He was theplayboy of Sri Lanka cricket: women swooned and fast cars were his passion.But during the mid-1990’s things started to change: style met substance andthe purple years commenced. Kent were fortunate enough to hire his serviceswith the metamorphosis in full swing. He plundered attacks across thecountry, swung mighty sixes into the Tavern Stand during Lord’s finals andmade friends wherever he went. Canterbury fell in love. Graham Cowdrey, ateammate, still remembers his farewell: “When he packed his bags, he huggedeach of us, and I have never known a professional sports team so close totears.”© CricInfoAnd then there was the 1996 World Cup, a tournament that produced the finestmoment of his career: a match-winning performance against the Australians inthe Lahore final as he pinched three wickets with his off-breaks and thenlaced the bowlers to all corners on his way to a sizzling hundred. Hissemi-final performance was, perhaps, even more memorable. He arrived in themiddle with both openers in the hutch and only one run on the board. Acapacity 100,000 plus Eden Garden’s crowd vibrated with delight. Calmly andboldly, he counter-attacked, unveiling his full repertoire of strokes. Itwas not an attack born out of desperation, but a controlled assault, a raremixture of power, precision and finesse. 14 boundaries and 66 runs later hisgreatness was assured and Sri Lanka’s arrival in the big-time was confirmed.Afterwards, for two prolific years, he vied with Sachin Tendulkar and BrianLara as the best batsman in the world. Between 1997 and 1999 he played 24Tests, scoring 2195 runs at an average of 66.5. In 1997 alone he scoredseven hundreds and two fifties in just 11 Tests. Unfortunately, the powersstarted to diminish thereafter as selection squabbles and controversy tookits toll.The match-fixing furore threatened a humiliating end as Indian bookmakerMukesh Gupta claimed in the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI) reportthat de Silva and captain Arjuna Ranatunga were entangled in the scandal.The Sri Lankan Cricket Board launched an independent inquiry despite stanchdenials. Eventually the pair were cleared as Gupta refused to testify in acourt of law, but by then the damage had already been done. His interest inthe game was waning; the selectors wanted him cast aside and, after England’s 2001 tour of Sri Lanka, he drifted into the wilderness, hanging up hisboots for the best part of a year.© CricInfoA lifeline was thrown at the beginning of 2002 when a new selection panelwas convened. De Silva grabbed his chance, shedding 12 kilos as he soughtone final fling on the international scene. Picked first for the Test sideduring Sri Lanka’s tour to England, he also won a one-day recall as theselectors looked to strengthen the middle order for the World Cup. Hisreturn produced flashes of a glorious past but never recovered the sustainedbrilliance of his pomp. Nevertheless, he remained the most feared batsman inthe middle order, capable, as he was throughout his career, ofsingle-handedly changing the course of a match. The fact that his semi-finalrun out by Andy Bichel spelt the end of Sri Lanka’s 2003 World Cup campaignspoke volumes of the veteran’s enduring importance to the side.As de Silva finally puts his fading pads to bed and turns his full attentionto his loving wife Sarita and baby son Sampras, he will do so in theknowledge that he touched greatness. He may not have matched the phenomenalconsistency of a Tendulkar or Waugh, and he may not have scored as many bighundreds as he should, but, for brief moments in his career, he elevatedbatting to heights achieved by very few. Quite simply, he brought magic tothe game. His cricketing journey has ended but the legacy will live on. Anew era in Sri Lanka cricket now beckons and de Silva, more than any otherindividual, helped ensure their arrival in the big time.