Sri Lanka v Afghanistan, ICC Cricket World Cup 2019, Cardiff
The last time I took a shot at penning my thoughts in to a blogpost, Sri Lanka Cricket were at the crossroads. The giants of their game had bid adieu to the national team, taking with them a brand of cricket the cricketing world had come to acquaint and love with the little island. The shadows of their illustrious careers loomed over a young, untested yet talented crop of cricketers, who had shown glimpses of what they could become. No one expected the young group to emulate their predecessors, certainly not immediately, but there was no suspicion of a downfall. There was no question that this team couldn't compete at the world stage, consistently and proudly. That was soon to be wiped away from the avid Sri Lankan fan. Pride was not something they had ever found scarce. But series loss after series loss, captain after captain, coach after coach, Sri Lankan fans were drained of every ounce of pride they had in their team, only to be left with memories of an era gone-by to soon. As such, the ability for me to gather my thoughts to write anything that was even slightly far from bitter, faded away; along with the blog.
Three years later, on a relatively cold summer day in Waterloo, I sit at my couch, having witnessed one of the most tenacious performances of this Sri Lankan team. They had shown they had the mettle. In the UAE, they had toppled a strong Pakistani side in their adopted backyard. At home, they had swatted away touring Australian and South African sides, with turning pitches and Rangana Herath's darts. And against all odds in South Africa, they had slayed Goliath; a feat that has drawn praise and envy from their northern neighbors. But all these performances had come in the Test format. The One Day side, in the same time period, had failed to win a single significant series. No other full member side had a worse win percentage than the men in blue and gold, since the last world cup. Fifty seven different players used under six different captains, Sri Lanka's ODI side was in complete chaos going in to the world cup. So much so that, they appointed a captain who had not featured in the One Day side since the last world cup.
Under such circumstances, even a win against the lowest ranked team in the tournament; Afghanistan, seemed like an uncertainty. At 100/1 it seemed surprisingly probably. Kusal Perera had raced to a half century, belting boundary after boundary. He had made history, earlier in the year, being at the forefront of the series win in South Africa. If Sri Lanka were to make any substantial performance at the world cup, he was the man to lead them with the bat. Newly appointed captain Dimuth had held fort, and helped lay a foundation. He too, a hero of the series win in South Africa having united the team to play for a common cause, which probably was what warranted his appointment as captain for the world cup. It was a refreshing start, to a team that had been bundled out for 130ish at the hands of New Zealand.
But not long after being 100/1, Sri Lanka were 180/8. The win seemed impossible, and the performance; more like the Sri Lanka of new. The fans had been given a glimmer of hope, and then had it all taken away in the blink of an eye. A feeling they had become accustomed to of late. Then the city of Cardiff decided to unleash the heavens. The game was halted until the skies cleared. Sri Lanka got a break. The fast bowlers turned up. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Eight years ago, Nuwan Pradeep was gearing up to bowl his first ball in test cricket against Pakistan. He is fondly called Sirasa by his teammates; the name of the television channel that had conducted the soft-ball fast bowling talent contest which he had won. That is how he had started his hard ball career. Within a few years he had climbed the domestic ranks, and earned himself the right to play for the National Test team. If Pradeep winning that contest was the equivalent of Charlie Bucket winning the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, then today was the ride on the Great Glass Elevator. Afghanistan are not the greatest batting prowess of the tournament, but with 180 to win in 41 overs, they definitely were the favorites to win this game. That was until Pradeep decided to show how much he deserved to be there, and how much hard work had gone in to his game since his soft-ball days.
Lasith Malinga had gone through a roller coaster ride in his cricketing career in the years after the 2015 world cup. He was made captain, then not. Then blamed for his lack of fitness, and ultimately dropped. There was controversial comments made between him and the sports minister. He went unpicked for the first time at the IPL in 2018, and was kept in the dressing room as a fast bowling consultant. Then last summer, Malinga turned up to the most obscure location for a T20 league; Toronto. I watched him bowl; with far less strides to his run up, and far more deep breaths. But he got wickets. And with the wickets, he got his mojo back. He got the fact that he has still got it. I got a selfie, but that's less important. A little under an year later, with a last over for the ages, he nicked the IPL title from CSK's backpocket in the final. And today, he roared. He roared like the Malinga of 2007. He roared like he belonged, and he wanted to be belonged. He delivered.
To think Sri Lanka are out of the woods with this win is nothing short of foolish. This team is still well beneath the water, and in the middle of chaos. The win does not give hope. It shouldn't. The middle order is still frail. Spinners; non-existent. Fielding; barely adequate. But a loss here, to Afghanistan, would have been the white flag. That would have been the final nail in the coffin, for the Sri Lankan Cricket fan to lose the slightest shimmer of pride they had for their team. But they won. Absolutely out of nowhere. Cardiff was stunned; Colombo even more so. The team had not given us something to be proud about, per say. But they had ensured we would not lose what little we had. And that much, for now, is more than enough.
Enough, even for me to be inspired to write again.
Cheers.
Cheers.
