The Book(-worma)

As I described sometime earlier in anticipation, the Waugh autobiography seemed like the definitive cricket book of my generation (so far :-). Even while I wait to lay my hands on a copy, one of our regulars here, Rupak Das, has already plunged into one. He has kindly agreed to share some snippets, impressions etc.

I will therefore, from time to time, keep bringing the topic back here. But I do promise not to reveal the ending and spoil the fun for you all :-))

At this stage I would also add my declaration that I have no links and/or agreements, financial or otherwise, whatsoever with the publishers of the book ;-)

First up...one of the forewards is by Rahul Dravid..who can surely be defined as one of the disciples of the Waugh School of Gritting It Out. Here's what he says on Waugh in the book.

Steve's legacy is hard to define, but I will remember him because he gave grit a good name. He proved that it is not only the pretty player who can capture the imagination, but also the tough and determined. Suddenly these qualities became as vital, as spoken about, as silken grace and sublime timing.

and another

I will remember the pain of not beating him in that last Test of his, in Sydney in January 2004, but also recall fondly his final innings in cricket against us, for it was a typical Steve Waugh innings: mind over matter, a man not in form but soldiering on, taking his team to safety.

And from the introduction section of the book, Waugh describes his early days thus...when he was very insecure as a player, unsure whether his future belonged in the sport.

Nestled among the sun-stealing skyscrapers of Hong Kong lies a small cricket ground. In 1988, this speck of greenery was the venue for a friendly match between the Australian touring team, en route back to Oz after a disastrous tour of Pakistan, and a Hong Kong XI. It was here, on perhaps cricket's most expensive piece of real estate, where I reached a point where something had to give. .... Well, I was experiencing what every sportsperson goes through at least once in his or her career - that deep, disturbing inner voice of negativity, the one that says, You aren't good enough, stop wasting your time, no more torture, take the easy option. Just fade away and be happy to lead a normal, controlled and relaxed life.

Then..going into the book...a funny story of Steve and Mark's first brush with the sport they would later grow up to conquer

Our very first official game of cricket was in many ways a disaster, and over before we realised what had happened. Not having a coach wasn't a promising start, and it was left to a group of mothers to guide the debutants of Panania-East Hills Under 10s. Not only did we
collapse to be all out for the grand total of four, which included three wides, but the Waugh boys lasted a meagre three deliveries. Mark had his stumps knocked over first ball, while I was fortunate that a full toss landed on my bat first up before I lost my stumps to the very next delivery. But it wasn't the pair of ducks or the
pitiful total that hurt us the most - it was the embarrassment of wearing our only pad on the wrong leg and the placement (by our parents) of our protectors on our kneecaps.

That's all for today...I'll keep coming back on this until the day you guys grow sick of it and cry out in pain ;-) And Rupak, thanks once again mate for the effort.