Sultan Of Spin

W-w-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-r-n-n-e-e-e-e-y,W-w-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-r-n-n-e-e-e-e-y,W-w-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-r-n-n-e-e-e-e-y. Probably, after the dry and painfullymonotonous ‘Barmy Army, Barmy Army’ war cry, this slow, slanting, laidback,infectious drawl was the most famous chant heard in cricket grounds across theworld.

By itself, it was appealing and worth joining in, kind of like gentlyexercising your vocal chords the way you would stretch your body after a deepslumber. The underlying message it heralded was even more powerful, makinglover-like promises to pump up the excitement or break the lull in proceedings,as the case might be. Word was out: Shane Warne was due next to roll his armover.

And, what an arm that was. Seemingly constructed of oodles of baby fat with alittle muscle thrown in, it looked benign and harmless, inviting kids to hang onand pretend to be Tarzan. But when the same right arm tactfully concealed andgripped a small, hard, round object to be delivered from 22 paces, it couldweave magic.

It was sleight of hand at its best. You knew you were in for a master-classin the art of deceit and deception, with the weapons being assorted variationsin turn, flight, speed, line, length, vocabulary and expression. It was leg-spinbowling -- and cricket and sport -- at its riveting best.

It’s indeed a shame that all this is being said in the past tense, but thenthat’s how the cookie crumbles. Given the damning evidence on hand andthe circumstances, it’s only fair game. Shane Warne won’t be seen rollinghis arm over and preying on men with willows in their hands for the next year.Perhaps, never again.

Warne has been temporarily shunted out of cricket, but the patented cry,serving gentle reminders of his legacy, still fills the air in South Africanstadiums. As it probably will in other countries where the viewing public isinclined to such lyricism.

Warne leaves behind a powerful legacy, if one might be permitted to say so.It’s hard not to miss his presence in the field, be it striding in to bowl oneof the many kind of deliveries in his awesome armoury, standing at first slipinvariably engaging his teammates around in an animated conversation about whoknows what, or giving the ball an ol’ fashioned thump on the leg side.

Warne was one of the game’s few genuine characters, a breed that is losingnumbers more briskly than it is admitting members. In this day and age, youngmen, bred to be cricketers, thrill with their skills and athleticism, but theyare sucking the human element out of the game. Little playful banter orintermingling with the opposition, few exchanges of words, fewer testyconversations. When they do exercise their vocal chords, it’s usually to hurlexpletives, delivered with a complete lack of imagination.

Warne was different, perhaps because he belonged to another time and becausehe was the quintessential Aussie. His attraction lay not just in his mastery ofhis art form, but also the manner in which he went about his business on thefield. Along with searching deliveries, batsmen, standing a pitch length away,were subjected to piercing glares, quizzical looks, teasing questions and brazenripostes that many a time went over the top and strayed into sledging territory.It was a performance that could easily earn him a place in a theatre troupe, andthe latest turn of events has only confirmed that.

Love him or hate him, you just couldn’t ignore him. Not as a player, not asa performer.

There are players and there are players. In a game played out over sevenhours in a day, some times over five consecutive days, few players can hold yourattention, time after time. Few players can draw the fans back to a match thatis trundling along. Among the current crop, Tendulkar has this special quality.As do Lara, Lee, Gilchrist and Akhtar. When these guys are in the thick of theaction, you know something’s going to give.

Warne too could hold spectators in thrall, with more than just his bowlingskills. In late-1998, when the then one-day captain Steve Waugh was laid low byinjury, Warne led the side. He led the way he played: from the front, bristlingwith ideas, scheming and plotting, involving his other teammates, not afraid toshow his cards. He was daring, aggressive and imaginative.

Not since Martin Crowe in the 1992 World Cup had a captain brought so much tothe job tactically and made such a difference to the way a side looked andperformed. Of the 11 one-dayers Australia played under Warne’s captaincy, theywon 10, including a run of nine wins in a triangular against Sri Lanka andEngland.

Mark Taylor had just retired from cricket, and Australia was divided on whomto anoint as his successor: cricket’s elderly statesman Steve Waugh or themercurial Warne. With this performance, Warne had given a stunning exhibition ofhis captaincy credentials. The selectors, though, plumped for continuity andimage, and gave Waugh their vote. This was just around the time when Australiawere putting in place the pieces that would see them win the World Cup andestablish themselves at the summit of world cricket.

Warne’s naked aggression and outgoing persona, which was such a boon on thefield, was also his bane. Over the years, he would be caught hobnobbing withbookies and violating commercial contracts. It would cost him a possiblecaptaincy stint, not once but twice. Another off-field embarrassment, this timedirty talk over the phone with an English woman, saw him lose the vice-captaincyto Gilchrist. Had it not been for that episode, he would surely have taken overfrom Waugh in the one-day side.

The Australian team is doing fine without him at the World Cup. Theirjuggernaut continues to roll on, which is sterling testimony to the country’scricketing abilities and ethos. Warne wasn’t as crucial a cog in the one-dayset-up, as he was in the Test side. And that’s where Australia might miss himwhen they go to the Caribbean after the World Cup. Stuart MacGill can spin theball square, but doesn’t possess the same subtleties, variations orpsychological edge over batsmen as Warne did. Brad Hogg and Nathan Hauritz arestill unknown quantities at the Test level.

Undoubtedly, Warne will follow the performance and progress of his fellowspinners with much interest. The Australian selectors have told him that, if he’sinclined to resume playing after serving his year-long ban, he will have to earnhis place back in the national squad. That depends as much on his doing well asit does on the others not filling his shoes ably. And those are big shoes tofill. If none among MacGill, Hogg and Hauritz is able to establish themselves,it will be that much easier for Warne to make a comeback.

Warne is sitting on 491 Test wickets, within striking distance of CourtneyWalsh’s summit of 519 wickets. At the time of announcing his retirement fromone-day cricket, Warne indicated playing on for three to four years. A year downthe line, he’ll be 34. Going by the general ageing patterns of cricketers andspinners, and keeping in mind Warne’s perpetual battle with weight andfitness, that still leaves Warne with a couple of years, or around 20 tests, ofgood top-flight cricket.

There’s a bigger reason than cricket and money for Warne to come back: torestore lost pride. For a true athlete, pride is a huge thing. More so when youcome from a country that has a rich sporting ethos and has made a name foritself for breeding waves of rugged, doughty, spirited athletes. Australiansdote on their athletes. But this respect has to be earned, by embodying andstanding tall for these very qualities.

It’s not the first time that Warne faces a comeback situation. Previously,in 1998, surgery to his shoulder kept him out of the game for around ninemonths. Even back then, in the lead-up to his recovery, questions were raised onwhether he would be the same bowler again. He lost little of his edge. In hisinimitable style, he collected wickets, along with courting controversy.

This is a different situation than his previous injury-enforced sit-out,though. Warne is 33 now, five years older. As the body grows older, it becomesthat much harder to dictate terms to it. Also, this forced sabbatical is due tonon-cricketing reasons.

The evidence on hand doesn’t conclusively tell whetherWarne took steroids and was therefore trying to mask the use of suchperformance-enhancing drugs. It also hard to conclude that he took theprohibited tablet only once, or twice, as he later claimed. Because of thisambiguity, in some minds, he has been branded a cheat. It’s something he willhave to live with and deal with objectively through the process of coming back.

He’s done it before. Will he do it again? Warne and time will whether thecries of "W-w-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-r-n-n-e-e-e-e-y,W-w-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-r-n-n-e-e-e-e-y,W-w-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-r-r-r-r-n-n-e-e-e-e-y" will occasionally ring out asshards of memory from the past or as an alive moment from the present.