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!
2 comments:
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 :-)..
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! :)
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