When I started this blog, it was
something about cricket that I had written which I wanted to share with the
world. Over time, amongst various topics, cricket still remained an integral
aspect upon which I could write freely, without any inhibitions, be it the love
for Rahul Dravid or the retirement of the 3 Indian batting legends. But never did
I imagine a time when I would regret the cause that would prompt me to write.
Today is one such time, one such moment. Australian cricketer Phillip Hughes
died a tragic death on Thursday after being hit by a bouncer during a cricket
match. He was just 25. Had he been alive, he would have turned 26 today.
I didn’t follow his career very closely, nor was I a big fan of him, but the sheer shock of the fact overcomes
you when you come to know of such a tragedy. It is like someone telling you
that the person you met an hour ago just died in an accident. You just can’t
believe it. The fact that he had his entire life ahead of him makes this
bereavement even more profound. Hughes was somebody’s son, somebody’s brother,
and a friend of many. But when the tragic news came out, the entire world shed tears
for him. The Australian National flag blew at half mast at the Sydney Cricket
Ground, the domestic cricket tournament was abandoned, and the practice match
against the visiting Indian team was cancelled. Because there was no way the players
could focus on the game. Yes, Phillip would have wanted the game to move on,
but those he has left behind cannot do so unless they give him one final
farewell. “Mourning first, cricket later” is the thought on everyone’s mind
right now.
I have always believed that no
matter how close you are to someone, the pain you feel upon someone’s demise is
nothing as compared to that felt by the deceased’s family. Everyone will come,
share their grief and then eventually leave. It’s the family that has to begin
a different life all together. The Hughes family has shown great resolve over
the last few days, and the world stands united with them in these tough times.
What makes the reality more
painful is the freakish, rare nature of the injury that caused Phillip’s death.
Till date, only 100 such cases have come across and only one of them resulted
from a cricket ball. Our hearts also go out to Sean Abbott, the bowler who
bowled that fateful delivery. It was no fault of his, he was just doing his job
and no one can imagine what all must be going through his mind at the moment.
That is why it’s great to see the support that is flowing in from all ends for
him and I really wish that he continues to play cricket, and we all would
want to see him on the field soon, whenever he is comfortable.
In a few days time, we all will
gradually forget about this incident and get back to our daily lives and for
cricket fans, boundaries and wickets will once again become a reason to cheer.
But for now, cricket is poorer. It has lost someone special. Someone whose best
was yet to come. He was 63* when he was hit, and will forever remain immortal that
way in our memories, 63 NOT OUT. His #64 ODI jersey has been retired, the
funeral will take place on 3rd December in his hometown, the
#putoutyourbat social campaign has already spread across all spheres and
condolences are coming in from all corners.
It’s painful when we miss someone
who has left us, but it’s even more painful to realise that the person would
never come back. Today, the cricketing world finds itself in that situation.
Surely, the game would move on, the players would move on, the lives would go
on.... but until then, let’s grieve the loss that we have to endure, let’s
remember the man whose success hadn’t reached its pinnacle. Not yet. The player #408 to represent Australia in tests had a tremendous start to his career. Yes there were highs and lows but no one would question his potential and the promising future he had in store for him. It was a pleasure to have seen you play.
He was just 25. Had he been
alive, he would have turned 26 today.
Happy Birthday Phil.
Rest in Peace.
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