Gangnam Style – The new redemption song

It was as if a curse was lifted. They danced with wild abandon, their spirits set free.

Psy might have been proud that Gangnam style had travelled far and wide, onto the middle of a Sri Lankan cricket pitch, albeit with amateur attempts at matching his steps. But the dance wasn’t just a few steps conjured up in a euphoric frenzy. It spoke of something deeper, an awakening of a once dominant force that had long since swapped roles for that of a sleeping giant.

Once upon a time, they were considered invincible, a unit that caused teams to fear for their lives, not just their wickets. A tenuous history preceded their dominance. For far too long, they were made to feel subservient to the white man, whose rules they were slave to. The game was their key out of prison. And then they discovered a fire.

The bowling unit read like fast bowling royalty – Colin Croft, Michael Holding, Joel Garner, Andy Roberts and Malcom Marshall. It was said that teams lost just at the mere sight of these unrelenting pacers. By the time my generation started following the game, the once mighty unbeatable side had fallen from its lofty perch.

Everything we heard about this once inscrutable, invincible team was from our ancestors. In the days before archival footage, 24 hour cricket channels and YouTube, it was hard to imagine all that was being told to us.

Fearsome pace. The best batsman made to quake in their boots. Fractures. Cuts. World dominance. Never lost a single test series from 1980 to 1995.

But the West Indies we were subject to was a far cry from all that was being described to us. Curtly Ambrose and Courtney Walsh were feared, but not as menacing as their predecessors. Brian Charles Lara was to West Indies what Sachin Tendulkar was to the Indian cricket team in the 90s – the pivot, the hope, the prayer on everyone’s lips. While Sachin’s lone battle was reinforced by armory he got in the form of VVS Laxman, Sourav Ganguly and Rahul Dravid in the mid 90s, Lara was never afforded that kind of backup.

In the 1996 World Cup semi-final, they lost 8 wickets for 87 runs in one of the most inexplicable collapses the game has seen. In the World Cup they hosted in 2007, they didn’t make it past the group stage and Brian Charles Lara’s time ran out, and ironically, he was run out in the last match he played for his country.

By now, they were just journeymen, resigned to live off their past glory. It wasn’t as if the talent wasn’t there. But something was always missing. On occasion, they slipped into old garb and gave us a peep into what they once were. Steadily and painfully, they slipped. And slipped some more. Until they weren’t even considered a force to be reckoned with.

Until October 7^th 2012. When it looked as if the match was a lost cause, when the Gayle force was quelled, and all that was left was a reverent wish that the opposition would implode. The odds were stacked against them. Everywhere you turned, a Sri Lankan flag waved proudly. The chant on everyone’s slips was for the home team, playing its fourth final in 5 years. And then the reverent wish came into play. Sri Lanka imploded.

It is every cricket lover’s wish that the West Indies regain lost glory and inch their way back into the echelons of great teams. The game could really do with more quality oppositions.

At the start of the competition, the West Indies were considered a good side. But only a bookie with a penchant for extreme adventure would have put his money on them to lift the trophy. You can be sure that none of them are swaying with wild abandon to the beats of Gangnam style.

Fire in Babylon is a documentary on the West Indian cricket team’s supremacy in the 70s and the 80s. The title for the post is inspired by the documentary title.