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This bit is so spot on:
"His presence in the middle was like no other and began with the dismissal of the previous batsman, the Jules Winfield of cricket hanging back and getting into character. "The wicket falls, but he allowed things to settle," wrote Mike Selvey in the Guardian. "Waiting for the arena to clear, the celebrations (more muted in those days) to die down. The theatre lights dimmed and expectation became electricity. Everyone knew who was coming. And when he finally made his entrance, swaggering down the steps, cudding his gum, and windmilling his bat gently, first one arm then the other ? I put on a performance, he told me, it was part of my act ? His reputation preceded him like an advance guard. It continued with the languid wicketwards saunter, the slow precision with which he took guard, the way he ambled down the pitch to tap down an imaginary mark, all the while looking for, and not always finding, eye contact with his adversary. Then he would smack the end of his bat handle with the palm of his right hand, a final intimidatory gesture." Or as Richards put it in the film, Fire in Babylon: "My bat was my sword. I'd take it up, put a piece of chewing gum in my mouth and back myself every time." '
Posted By: jafski, Mar 11, 11:06:21
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