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Watching the cricket? Wet your whistle and get an argument going

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Editorial

The silken and the subtle

One of the greatest batsmen of our age stars in this issue. And one of the finest bowlers of a time gone by

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan  |  

The greatest cricket arguments take place in bars. That's a fact. Try Gavaskar v Viswanath after four drinks. Or Sachin v Lara. Or MEW v SRW. Or Gooch v Gower. Unlock the memories, dice the numbers, pick pivotal moments, dissect technique, wallow in nostalgia, squabble, mock, needle, curse. Then drink more. Raise the volume. Order one for the road. Slur and jabber. Wonder what Carl Hooper or Basit Ali might have become. Think of Hooper's cover drive. And Basit's inside-out thunderbolt. And weep.

When you're wasted and swaying, it could boil down to a single memory. Locked away in the recesses is that one breathtaking moment that surfaces when you're tipsy. Maybe it's just one shot that's vivid in your mind's eye: Tendulkar's push down the ground - so economical, so effective. Or Viv Richards' brutal front-foot pull - cricket's most glorious #STFU.

Few modern batsmen have tickled the senses as much as the subject of this month's cover story, Mahela Jayawardene. It begins with his name - say it aloud: Mahela. How delicately it floats in the air, three musical notes that accompany an exquisite cover drive: ma he la.

And such grace under pressure. Time after time he would walk in with Sri Lanka in a pickle. And just like that - swishing, clipping, caressing, cajoling - he changed the mood. The scoreboard dissolved into the background. And wizened men were transported back to those glorious afternoons in their driveway or backyard when the dreams were unsullied and the batting eloquent.

In his finely crafted piece ESPNcricinfo's Sri Lanka correspondent, Andrew Fidel Fernando, explores what cricket meant to Mahela and how his carefree approach to his batting, and his fierce competitiveness as a captain, were little but an extension of his personality. "He was the coach's pet and spoken of as a captaincy candidate since his youth," says Fernando, "but the instant he crossed the boundary rope, freedom was his hallmark."

Mahela could comfortably have found a place in another of our big features this month, the Jury's Out, where we asked five writers to select the most eye-catching batsman they had seen. It was a terribly hard choice - the syrupy VVS and imperious Isaac Vivian Alexander made it, but on another day there might have been a spot for a playful MoYo or feline MEW. Each piece, tinged with nostalgia, brings out the thrill that these batsmen conjured. "It was perfection, touched by something almost risqué," writes Mark Nicholas on Barry Richards, "and satisfied all the requirements of a young boy in love with the game… "

When you're wasted and swaying, it could boil down to a single memory. Locked away in the recesses is that one breathtaking moment that surfaces when you're tipsy

Of course it's not just batsmen who offer aesthetic pleasure. Bowlers spread tremendous joy. It is said that in his pomp Erapalli Prasanna psyched batsmen out with mere facial gestures. He would smile when struck for fours and sixes, grin wickedly when a ball beat the bat, and swivel his eyes left and right - as if using them to converse with the batsman. None of this was gimmickry; for Prasanna - and his spin comrades - the joy of setting up the batsman was as vital as the act of dismissal.

In our big interview this month, Prasanna holds forth on the art and science of spin bowling, talking to one-time adversary and long-time pal Ian Chappell. Though terrific against spinners, Chappell says he "never got to the point" where he could dictate terms against Prasanna because "there was so much thought going into what he was doing".

Elsewhere Iain O'Brien pays tribute to a legend he grudgingly admired; Simon Barnes wishes more fans would applaud the excellence of the opposition; and Andy Zaltzman tells us why cricket could have been a prehistoric smash hit. For our photo feature, Martin Crowe selects ten batsmen who could drive the cricket ball as if posing for the cameras. And towards the end, Hooper talks about the day he tamed Wasim and Waqar. Now is there a grander sight than that?

Siddhartha Vaidyanathan is a writer based in the USA