Nearly four years after he was diagnosed with lymphoma, and after a stoic battle, talismanic former New Zealand skipper Martin Crowe passed away in Auckland, aged just 53. Since being detected with the terminal condition, Crowe had withdrawn almost exclusively from public life — he was a sharp thinker of the game, an insightful commentator and a delightful writer — though he had the will to pen a touching tribute to his compatriots ahead of the World Cup finals against Australia. As if foreseeing the end, he had written: “My precarious life ahead may not afford me the luxury of many more games to watch and enjoy. So this is likely to be it. The last, maybe, and I can happily live with that.” And so it was.
He perhaps would have been happier if his countrymen had delivered the World Cup, but the tragic streak was an ever-present theme of his life and career. In the 1992 World Cup semifinal against Pakistan, he had shepherded his side until that point. But as luck would have it, he pulled his hamstring in that match, and despite batting through pain for a nonchalant 91 off 83 balls, he was confined to the dressing room, helplessly watching a chubby teen from Gujranwala announce himself on the big stage.
