A storm has passed

You could have called it daft. Chris Cairns ended his penultimate Test innings with a swipe that sent the ball flying into orbit from the outer half of his bat. Graham Thorpe, who knows how to keep his nerve, waited till what seemed an eternity before the ball descended on him and off went Cairns, having scored a raucous 12 with three fours, including a majestic hit to the cover boundary off the previous ball. Given that New Zealand needed a substantial innings from him at that stage, you could have also called it an act of incorrigible showmanship that ran contrary to the team cause.

But to do that would be missing the essence of Cairns's batsmanship. Seen that way, his entire career would be reduced to one huge lament. Statistically, Cairns's batting was only a moderate success, and considering his skills, a disappointment. But to count Cairns's impact in numbers would be doing him, and cricket, a disservice. Few among his generation of cricketers brought as much thrill, created as much anticipation and painted as grand a spectacle. In departure, he deserves not an elegy, but a wholesome paean.

Cricketers of Cairns's disposition find themselves haunted by "what could have been" throughout their playing days and beyond. Yet few of us bother to reflect on what could have been if a player like Cairns had subscribed to the measured and the conformist approach often prescribed for him. Cairns's batting was a celebration of extravagance; his presence was never mundane and often electrifying. By no stretch of imagination could he have laid claim to mastery and neither was he an aesthete; his art was vaudevillian, it announced itself in no uncertain terms and its primary purpose was enjoyment, both, his own and of the spectator. In that sense, Cairns's spirit was true to the original concept of sport.

Another retirement was announced last week, and even though Michael Slater¹s exit was a formality, the significance of it wouldn't have been lost on cricket lovers. Cairns and Slater were kindred spirits, an increasingly rare breed in the contemporary environment which encourages, if not mandates, straitjacketing of individualism. Professionalism is a necessity in competitive sports, but it has to be conceded with a tinge of regret that it does rob the game of characters. The modern sportsman is expected to be the purveyor of moral conduct: he is expected to behave on and off the field, not show anger and disappointment, not express himself on touchy topics and smile angelically for the camera. It isn't a surprise that most cricketers these days are teetotalers and go to bed by ten. Cairns had more in common with Ian Botham than big hitting and bowling fast-medium: he loved his pints and spoke his mind.

And since the stakes are too high in the modern game, risk-takers are regarded with suspicion. Virender Sehwag and Chris Gayle are exceptions. Though the pace of the game has quickened considerably, most fast scorers prefer a clinically efficient approach to creative audacity. Matthew Hayden, who scores rapidly and proficiently, is the perfect example of this approach. It isn't a coincidence that he displaced Slater in the Australian team; he is less likely to throw his wicket away chasing a wide ball to second slip in the second over of the innings. The appeal of cricketers like Botham, Cairns and Slater lay, to an extent, in their fragility. They kept you guessing.

Cairns had another thing in common with Botham. He was a genuine allrounder, another rare breed. Few of his contemporaries could match that claim. Shaun Pollock won't hold a place on batting alone and Jaques Kallis can't on his bowling. Cairns, though injury reduced his potency as a bowler in the later years, won matches for New Zealand with the new ball and has batted as a specialist. Only Andrew Flintoff among the current players has the potential to be in that league.

As he showed in this series, Cairns had a bit of Test cricket left in him. Thirty-four would seem relatively young to be going, but Cairns hadn't been gifted a body to match his skills. Like Nasser Hussain earlier this series, he preferred to go while standing tall, rather than being stretchered out. For a man who played on his own terms, it couldn't have been otherwise. He takes a bit of the game away with him.