Skip to main content

Sir Don Bradman

Now shadows grow longer, and there's so much more yet to be told
But we're not getting any younger, so let the part tell the whole
Now the players all wear colours, the circus is in town
And I no longer can go down there, down to that sacred ground
He was more than just a batsman, he's something like a tide
More than just one man, he was half the bloody side
Fathers took their sons 'cos fortune used to hide
In the palm of his hands; in the palm of his hands

That’s Bradman’s song. Sir Don Bradman…. Was reading anecdotes about him and was reading a few memories from all corners of the world. Few gave me goose bumps and few made me feel human. Wonder why we can never produce a sport star like that. With records to prove his brilliance and no words necessary to describe them. We have many greats, be it cricket or be it other sports, but none have the consistency of this wonderful man and it makes me really sad, that a country the size of India and having a population that only seems to multiply by the day, that we do not have people who bring the name of the country onto the map, with the consistency of breath in life.

Anyways, tribute to a great batsman sport has ever seen!

Labels:

Comments

Su.. said…
There is a fine line that one can draw between his job and his passion. Once that fine line vanishes, a person seeks for money rather than anything else. I wonder if we people basically belong to that category. Its a small and simple disease and yes..It is contagious :-)..
August 27, 2008
Mahita said…
Thank you for the comment.

Quite an interesting observation and I will not argue with that. Passion makes a man reach altitudes that are dreamt by mortals! :)
August 27, 2008
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Too late???

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental. --------------------------------------- “Let me drop you”, he said. “Not if you are the last one left on this earth”, she growled. His pride took a ride, yet the fear for her, overbearing every rationale. The terrorists are loose in the city and the thought of her life in danger, however remote the possibility caused him to swallow his ego and ask of her again, “Please…” “I would rather be within the touching distance of a suicide bomber”, she said. Turning her back to him, she walked away, muttering, “So typical of him to think I require him now, as though I have not survived without him. I do not need him to feel secure in my life. I am happy and perfect and ….” “Are you?”, her conscience questioned. “Yes” “Stop lying to yourself at least”, her conscience countered. “I am not”, she a...
14 comments
Read More >>

Happy Birthday, my love

DISCLAIMER: This is a fictional story. All the characters are fictional. The incident itself is a creation. Any resemblance to people or to the situations in the real world, is purely coincidental. --------------------------------------- Abhi was staring at the computer, hoping for some miracle, as his new problem does not seem to dissolve at his persuasive attempts. The clock keeps ticking as the seconds tick to minutes and into hour. At the strike of six O’clock in the evening, his calendar snoozed reminding him that he promised his girl friend a ride and dinner, as her birthday present. His heart did a flip flop as he realized he might not make it and ruin her perfectly good day. “Are you done?”, his manager was standing next to him. “Not even close”, he responded. His manager grunted and went his way. Abhi was frustrated. He loved his work and prided himself on his priorities and days like this, he wished he was working else where than this timeless job he landed himself in. ...
13 comments
Read More >>

Tag - I, Me and Myself - Past, Present and Future

Thank you Usha for tagging me :). Tagging being new to me, took sometime to understand what needs to be done… The Tag Two questions from the past, present and future. Answer them and then tag your friends from the blog-o-sphere. Leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been tagged and you are all set. Yesterday Your oldest memories Amazing how things of past cling on to you as memories that last forever. And those memories drive us to live a life amidst every chaos that erupts round us. There are a bunch of memories in my casket, each extremely warm and beautiful. To pick one is likely to be a tricky task. C’mon, I need some help here, which one to pick??? Will pick a memory when I was about seven years old. The kid in me fancied climbing hills, mountains, trees, buildings. But for a kid, do mountains or hills or peaks make sense? I think not, or I remember, trees and buildings are something that I thought should be mounted with extreme caution of a monkey. And I was v...
11 comments
Read More >>