When Brian Lara was bowled around his legs for 91 in the second Test against Australia, there was genuine anguish — and not just at the Queen’s Park Oval in Port of Spain, the left-hander’s hometown and where he has built the sort of palatial house in keeping with his almost lavish if inconsistent lifestyle. There was a feeling, through the cricketing world, that it was always going to be a fact of life: he would not score a Test century at the one venue where he wanted to leave a permanent mark.
So, when he was given a life early in his second innings, those who believe in such omens suggested that he still had a chance. To do it as captain of the West Indies would be something extra special.
Anyone who has closely followed Lara’s career over the past decade might also wonder about the schizophrenic tendencies of the player; or even whether (as psychologists say) such arcane factors exist. Here is someone whose batting style can be full of exuberance with a garrulous approach in the way he develops his strokeplay.
Here is a batsman whose flawed genius has created a persona which has thrown up three differing personalities since 1990.
He admitted that he admired someone such as Martin Crowe whose batting at limited-overs level reached perfection during the 1992 World Cup, he also had a liking for the way De Silva batted.
Here was a young man discussing what could perhaps be called the ‘soul’ of batting and how different venues and pitches gave a feeling of bonding and allowing for the batsman to play all his strokes. It was a matter of having a feeling of enjoyment for batting at places such as Edgbaston, Lord’s and Eden Gardens or Port of Spain to perhaps Mumbai, Wellington and Melbourne.
It is all about batting styles. He was just another left-hander who wanted to do something special: to leave a touch of breezy Caribbean flamboyancy embossed on the records. Nothing too special; just a calling card to remind historians one day of someone called Lara.
Then it all changed. Along came the records: 375 against England followed by 501 in a county game for Warwickshire against Durham; all in a matter of three months during 1994.
The modesty was replaced by something more ambitious: while riches came his way he also coveted the Windies captaincy and developed an attitude problem about it. He became moody and spoiled and his batting form was as erratic as the Caribbean weather with its calm and storm-tossed periods.
When it did fall into his lap, it was more about Lara the player than Lara the captain who led the side and helped other players as well. He became the Windies equivalent of Azhar, and even Crowe and De Silva: all captains at one time and yet allowing their own personality to dominate how they handled there terms of leadership.
South Africa’s modern middle-order icon, Cullinan, was a particularly special case. Like Lara, De Silva, Azhar and Laxman his batting would ooze confidence and show up the others as being second rate. Not since Barry Richard had a South African batsman displayed such command in the middle. He was missing from the side which briefly toured India in that political exercise in November 1991 and there was a view he should have been on that tour and lend his weight to the middle-order.
Yet Cullinan, Lara, Azhar and Crowe would, after a lunch break or middle-session drinks break, toss it all away. They had had enough of batting and wanted to sit in solitude and think about something else. This was noticeable of Lara when he was captain during the 1998/99 tour of South Africa and the subdsequent World Cup. It was as though he was in collusion with an inner destructive force. He had knifed out Courtney Walsh and seen the end of Richie Richardson. Yet he was not a happy with it all.
Now the wheel has turned and with it a second chance at captaincy and with this a new Lara has emerged; a more mature approach, as if he remembers how unpopular he was during his first tenure as captain. There was a worry he would not help bring on youngsters and instead take centrestage to proclaim his greatness. In two Test against Australia, the man they call ‘pip-squeak’ because he was forever whingeing has shown how he’s changed.
It is not that he managed to score that long-awaited century in Port of Spain, or that his strokeplay was a revelation of left-hand magic, with its power and grace, it was his comments and appreciation and approach to those around him which showed. His leadership was calm and calculated and caring.
Even his post-match comments about what is needed to improve the side showed a maturity to that of four summers ago when acting like a schoolboy prefect. The months ahead, however, will be interesting and perhaps entertaining as Lara looks to find an identity which is as recognisable as was his two innings in Port of Spain and Georgetown: consistent and reliable. The jury is still out on this one.