LMD ARCHIVES
1997
ARJUNA AND ‘THE BOYS’
BY Mahinda Wijesinghe
For the first time in a long, long time, all Sri Lanka became one – race, religion, politics… they all seemed so irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that we were Sri Lankans – champions of the world!
There was a time when many people thought that Sri Lanka was a part of India; others simply did not know where on earth it was. Of course, we were famous for Ceylon Tea, palm trees, golden beaches, friendly faces and being a cricket crazy nation.
Alas, for the past decade and a half, the reputation of this once resplendent isle has been bloodied by the spectre of terrorism. Engulfing our usually peaceful citizens, the senseless carnage continues, bringing in its wake horror and holocaust.
The bursting bombs, and untold military, terrorist and civilian deaths, made good copy for the world media – and the island was being made to look like a hotbed of death and destruction. Not wholly untrue; but it is not easy to convince the casual enquirer that the mayhem was only in restricted areas when bombs exploded in the city. A well-oiled terrorist propaganda campaign does the rest, of course.
The average citizen has learnt to live with the war. He or she first watches TV for the latest situation on the war front and then eagerly awaits news of cricket. The nation’s interest in cricket has been snowballing in the past few years, no doubt due to unprecedented successes enjoyed by our national team.
When we recorded our first Test series win away from home against the New Zealanders in 1994/95 – after 32 attempts since entering the Test arena in 1981/82 – the floodgates opened. Soon, it turned into a torrent when the Pakistanis – almost invincible at home – were humbled by the high riding Sri Lankans. Then came the acrimonious tour of Australia in 1995/96.
Losing was one matter but being humiliated with accusations of ball tampering and ‘chucking’ resulted in much heartburn and anguish. But sweet were the lessons of adversity.
The once meek Sri Lankan cricketers became hardened battle-scarred veterans, having weathered the aggressive and usually brash Aussie media, in addition to their playing conditions. They were now ready to meet the world. The Wills World Cup could not have been scheduled more auspiciously.
And the Australians refused to visit Sri Lanka for their preliminary World Cup tie. Lamblike, the West Indians followed Mary, handing Sri Lanka four points before even getting their toes wet. Still, the bookmakers were reluctant to offer Sri Lanka better odds than 66 to 1 – coincidently, the same odds were extended to India in 1983, when our big brother beat the mighty West Indians at Lord’s to bring the title to the subcontinent for the first time.
Detractors, very wisely (and indeed, correctly) pointed out that Sri Lanka had until then lost the most number of World Cup games (24) by a single nation. Could they lock horns with the might of Australia, India, South Africa, Pakistan, West Indies… and overcome them?
It looked farfetched, indeed.
A few including myself however, did give them a chance – among them, LMD. Its February editorial concluded: “Sri Lanka is, for the first time in its sporting history, among the favourites to achieve the ultimate in cricketing glory.”
True, the Sri Lankans had the most experienced One-Day International team. Six of the players – namely Ranatunga, de Silva, Mahanama, Gurusinha, Tillekeratne and Jayasuriya – averaged 130 games each, having played a total of 780 games before the World Cup began. In effect, the entire team could claim to have played over 1,000 One-Day games: experience, indeed.
Maybe it was the experience, maybe it was initiative or perhaps a combination of the two that rocked the opposition. When Sri Lanka beat arch rivals Australia by a comprehensive margin of seven wickets to become champions of One-Day cricket on 17 March 1996, it was a red-letter day for the nation.
The dancing in the streets was the extemporaneous joy the victory evinced.
There had not been, in the five previous World Cup competitions, a more convincing champion. For instance, the Sri Lankans averaged 56.24 runs per wicket: the next best in the history of the World Cup was achieved by the then rampaging West Indians in 1979 with a mark of 44.21.
Then the Sri Lankans scored at an average of almost six runs per over: the nearest in the history of the World Cup has been Australia with 5.21 in 1988.
Finally, Sri Lanka posted a mark of 1.24 in the crucial net runs per over: the closest to this was the West Indies in the inaugural World Cup in 1975 with only 0.69.
Statistics can be misused, just as the drunkard uses the street lamp for support rather than illumination. But just as the statistics revealed a yawning gap between the island cricketers and their opponents, their style of play brought gasps of astonishment and awe to spectators.
None wanted to miss a moment of the Sri Lankans’ batting. Both the connoisseur and cognoscenti were satiated. Sanath Jayasuriya and Romesh Kaluwitharana brought about a new dimension to the One-Day game by blasting the first 15 overs in a manner other sides did in the last 15. It was not slogging but a systematic slaughter that wrought havoc among not only the bowlers and fielders but spectators as well.
Hardened commentators like Tony Greig and Ian Chappell ran short of adjectives to describe our players. Once the openers let up, Aravinda de Silva would open his Pandora’s box, followed by Asanka Gurusinha, Arjuna Ranatunga, Hashan Tillekeratne and Roshan Mahanama.
What a line-up! It was a batting machine not to be tamed.
The fielding – led by Mahanama, Jayasuriya, Muralitharan, Tillekeratne & Co – reached new heights. The bowling, which was the relatively weak department, wasn’t stretched. After all, only 50 overs had to be bowled at the worst.
And Ranatunga, currently the most experienced international cricketer in the world, led his team with the composure of the experienced general he is.
No doubt, he was ably assisted by coach Dav Whatmore and manager Duleep Mendis. It cannot be a mere coincidence that Sri Lanka’s successes became commonplace with the entry of Whatmore into the picture.
Suddenly, the hitherto unknown Sri Lankans became the toast of the cricket world. They were feted. They became celebrities. Honours, some due and some not, were showered on them. Our little island became famous.
Unlike both India (in 1983) and Pakistan (in 1992) who won the title after stiff battles, Sri Lanka was the undisputed champion, having annihilated all opposition. The world looked at our little island with awe.
Sri Lanka became as famous as it was notorious because of the war. That Sri Lanka could produce such brilliant cricketers while murder and mayhem haunted the island was something observers viewed with deference.
The world paused and took notice of Sri Lanka. Many were peeking into the atlas to make sure they knew where on earth Sri Lanka was.
Now they know!
For all of this, the country owes a deep debt of gratitude to its cricketers. True, they are paid; but still, in a world seething with commercialism, it is performance that counts. That the Sri Lankan team performed cannot be denied even though they are not orbiting the same giddy heights right now.
Yet, to have reached such Olympian levels, to have focussed world attention on our little island at a time when all was blood and thunder is something we must be grateful for; and we owe this to Arjuna and ‘The Boys.’
No wonder LMD has selected the World Cup squad as its ‘Sri Lankan Of The Year.’ As Sri Lankans, we surely must pay tribute to the team.
Thanks again, boys.
