Arjuna Ranatunga:

Smouldering Galleon

by Rohan WIJESINGHE

CRICKET: Even ultra conservative, Lahore erupted in ecstasy that starry night as Aravinda and Arjuna timed their climax to perfection with that pulsating 4th wicket partnership, blasting 122 of the sweetest runs of their lives, to be followed by that monumental, momentous moment when Ranatunga clasped the coveted World Cup in his chunky fists.

All of Arjuna's batting style was encapsulated within that unbeaten cup final knock of 54 runs or so. His ingenuity in angling his bat so cleverly for runs, his punchy drives that punctuated the Lahore air, the "Heave Ho" over the rafters behind square and when the big man was bored, he simply tapped it someplace and 'walked' the run, needling the opposition to utter despair.

Now the trophy cabinet is bursting at its seams and the man who triggered it all, bides his time, embittered and embattled appearing for his beloved SSC's 3rd divisions his lone link now with the game. He didn't pull his punches, this crusty hard shelled man, perennially snubbing conformity. A pinch of diplomacy, a ted bit of discrimination and a lot more accommodation from Arjuna would have found him yet marshalling our forces from the lofty heights of the committee room. Fortunately time is on his side. He has got the time to mend fences, even build bridges. He could add immense value yet. It only!

One of the astutest cricketing brains to have surfaced from our shores. Ever noticed his hands? Big chunky hams. Cricketing talent oozes from Lankan pores, and yet we were meandering when Arjuna, with one of those huge fists took the team by the scruff of its neck and shook life into its very bones and with the other fist wagged the life out of umpire Darrel Hair. Two grown men in a dog fight over our precious bumblebee, Mutthiah Muralitharan wasn't exactly in the spirit of cricket and yet will live eternally in Sri Lankan folklore. Both hands had a profound effect then on our cricket. His modus operandi, despite its obvious flaws inspired devotion and instilled the panache and confidence necessary to conquer the world.

As he strode into bat one sensed he meant business, with his heavy set legs, barrel chest, helment and grille. The grille looked ominous. Arjuna used that grille for good measure, ensuring that the contraption insulated him from wrench and dent, having played in Sri Lanka's inaugural Test against England in 1982, and walking out for 100th Test as well at the Colombo Oval in 2000, 18 years on. On the flip side he used that grille to literally Barbecue the opposition. 5105 runs in 93 Tests at an average of 35.69, 7,456 runs in 269 ODI's at 35.84, 11.641 runs in all first-class cricket in 205 matches at 44.26, 300 catches in first-class cricket as well and just to round up the narrative 287 wickets in first class cricket and he could put a cork on the run rate. An opposition well and truly barbecued, and 'well done' too, over a 20 year span.

Our Cricket before Ranatunga was predominantly an upper class game expensive to play, exclusive and therefore prohibitive on rural youth. Arjuna comprehensively revised that balance. He gave country youth its head, and the freedom to flourish and did much to alleviate their financial stresses.Lock what wave got on our hands. Of the team to tour India in November 2009, except for Kumar, Mahela, Murali and Angelo the rest have an utterly rustic rural look about them. The country's cricketing future stalks the craggy rugged countryside now. The rural youth fear none, except the ominous 'Mike' at the medal hanging shindig.

Ranatunga initially gave evidence of his abundantly obvious potential by cottering in and peppering a flamboyant 300 plus in an under 15 school game aged 14 years or so. Another jewel in the long and distinguished Anandian Tradition was born. None other than the greatest, singled him out for greatness. Chalk one up for Canny Sir Garry then, and one for our luminary as well for having superseded Sir Garry's prophesy by a very long chalk. At 45 years of age, he bats now for his beloved SSC in the 3rd division with the pigeons outnumbering the spectators. The spectators, made up of the two teams, the umpires and this correspondent. With two portions of his favourite fish stew under his barrel chest the smouldering galleon sailed down the hallowed steps of the SSC and waded into a couple of young medium pacies to the tune of 60-70 runs with a just a couple of whacks. I saw a look between scorn and boredom on the great mans face through my Bino's as I floundered up the grassy embankment, on my way out, with the ball crashing angrily about the pickets and rafters.