At this time, the most popular hotel in world cricket is the Sonargaon. Every cricketer worth his salt is ready to give his right arm (or left, as the case may be) to spend one more night at Karwarn Bazaar. No surprise this, for they are all playing cricket in a tournament which is the brainchild of that astute cricket tactician, Jean-Paul Sartre. Now Jean-Paul Sartre, who did not overly fancy the thirty-yard circles or the red and green lights, and considered pinch-hitting too blase to lay claim on his faculties, thought of the really extraordinary. It must have been Simone, actually, who suggested the unthinkable (let's not forget the influence of women). Not for Jean-Paul, cricket simply under the lights in coloured clothing. It had to be cricket on an existential wicket.
Existentialism was the order of the day/night at the Bangabandhu, where Zimbabwe played New Zealand. Normal one day cricket does wonders for the ulcers, a knock-out format is likely to need the whole of the medical journal. One can only sympathise with the teams that have come halfway across the world to be given the hangman's noose as the raffle ticket. Jean-Paul at his very best, not WG. You are born, condemned to die.
There was more than a sense of urgency therefore in the manner Zimbabwe went about their business. They had just finished hunting down one of the big names in world cricket, India, and are presently on a roll. Their batting was to a plan and disciplined.
Alistair Campbell opening the innings had obviously decided on setting New Zealand a target, that, coupled with the low nature of the wicket and backed by typical Zimbabwean fielding, could be the key to shut the door on Stephen Fleming. It was a ploy that was put together with ease.
Early wickets not withstanding, Campbell's cultured 100 was the essential grit that spoiled the party. Andy Flower batting down the order weighed anchor as well and the Zimababweans coasted to a daunting total. A total of 250 plus on a less than amicable wicket, in a type of tournament where they might not give you the time of day, after your first match, is not really easy on the minds of batsmen batting second. This in effect could be the trend-setter for the rest of the competition.
How the big names might cope with these situations may make interesting reading. The Jayasuriyas, the Tendulkars, the Laras, and the Waughs of this world might have other approaches to dealing with these situations. For New Zealand, the batting was a trifle short of class, with only Stephen Fleming making his presence felt. Not without design perhaps, the two top scorers were the skippers, and left handers, as well.
Traditionally the Dhaka wicket, Phil Russell or not, is not your run of the mill, one day wicket found around the rest of the world. Add to the character of the wicket, liberal doses of rains over the past several weeks, and you have a very coy Bangalee damsel, whose looks might speak volumes, but not necessarily what you might want to hear.
One gets the feeling that explosive batting may not be the order of the day, when the popular run machines get to the middle in the coming days. The coin could make the quintessential difference betwixt the cup and the lip, of long faces in the hotel lobby and early flights home. But then, my son, who is into karate and not cricket, reminds me that I have been wrong before.