Great Cricket Admin

Satiricus has already confessed that he’s a cricket fanatic. The English call people like him ‘cricket tragics’. Satiricus supposed the “tragic” was meant for people like him: he doted on a team that hadn’t won anything significant in 20 years. He wasn’t sure whether the fatal flaw that defined the tragedy was in him or the WI team. What he knew was it couldn’t be with the WICB – those worthies that included stalwarts like Hunte and Hillaire, cricketing giants all, were without blemish.

“Is what kinda doltishness with dis Board?” Bungi sounded quite irascible. “Deh cyan even get visas fo de playas?”

“Bai ah jus dem Guyanese get problem,” pointed out Cappo. “An Samuels. But yuh know, he ah wan special case!”

“Bungi damn right!” snorted Suresh. “That WICB is a bunch of low down nincompoops, just feathering their own nest.”

“What you want the Board to do?” Satiricus demanded. “It’s not the Guyanese boys’ problem, it has to do with the Olympics in London this summer.”

“Is what de arse de matter wit you?” demanded Cappo. “Suh de Olympics just announce?” “That’s right! It’s the job of the cricket administration to know these things!” Hari was indignant. “Why you giving them guys a free pass?”

“Well, Hunte and Hillaire got a lot of things to do, you know,” argued Satiricus.

“Like wha?” demanded Bungi aggressively. This was a sore point with him.

“Well, for one, they got to keep up with the latest development with Gale and all that.” Satiricus said patiently.

All eyes swiveled on him. “What?” finally squeaked Suresh.

“You know what I’m talking about,” continued Satiricus blithely. “Gale isn’t apologising to the men?”

“An wha he should apologise fa?” asked Cappo coldly.

“He said how some men ‘a cock up dem foot’ while he ‘gat fuh play wid injection’”.

Satiricus knew his cricket trivia. “And everybody knew he was talking about Hunte and Hillaire.”

“But is true!!!” shrieked Hari. “What them men does do, to fly all over the world and stay at five star hotel and make more money than the players?”

“And why de hell dem gat fo seh if Gale can play?” demanded Cappo. “Wha de selectors fo do?”

“Listen chaps. Administration is a big job,” continued Satiricus pompously. “Is all kinds of things they got to do,” he concluded weakly.

“Like what? To take a tour of England when no one else would go… It’s cold like arse!” pointed out Hari.

“Bai Satiricus, is which world you living in?” Suresh wanted to know. “Nowadays, WI is so weak, the Board just has to take what other boards give them.”

“Well, what about the Cricket Academy?” Satiricus was fighting a rearguard action.

“When was the last time you heard anything about the academy?” asked Hari.

“What about foreign teams like Australia touring?” Satiricus was scraping the bottom of the barrel now.

“Bai, de local boards does take care a da!” Cappo chortled. “Admit it. De WICB is a blights pan WI cricket.” Satiricus sighed. The team wasn’t doing good. The board was doing worse. He decided that the English was on to something – after all they’d been following the game for hundreds of years before him. Satiricus was a cricket tragic.