chaotic order

Jottings - Slice of life - 440 ( The sublime art of Sunil Gavaskar - A celebration of fifty years in Cricket) If the cricketing bat was a painting brush, then Sunil Gavaskar was its Rembrandt - a master of technique and discipline. If Cricket itself was a philosophy, then he was its Buddha - a combination of stoic serenity and unparalleled fluidity. It is fifty years since the great cricketing master strode to the field for his first game, a game he was born to play, a game upon which he would leave such an indelible mark that ( paraphrasing Einstein’s eulogy to Gandhi) “generations to come will scarcely believe that such a man in flesh and blood ever played the game of cricket”. In my opinion, there is no greater cricketing spectacle in history than watching the short, young Gavaskar, with no head protection, bat and gloves in hand, confidently stride to the middle, nonchalantly signaling to the umpire to validate his guard of the leg stump and doing so in a single attempt; and