From Paul Leary, United Kingdom

The battle for supremacy of a sport such as Test cricket can never and must never be compressed to a single game © Getty Images

If recent weeks have told us anything, it’s that to be considered the No. 1 side, you must do more than just top the rankings. This winter, the two most recent incumbents of this prized position have been defeated by Australia and Pakistan respectively.

India, a team which spent around 18 months at the top of the pile, have gone down 4-0 to an inexperienced but hungry Australian side, displaying the same technical flaws against the moving ball as were seen during the English summer. England, recently crowned No.1 and lauded copiously as such, have subsided in the heat of the UAE. Despite relatively friendly pitches and a notable lack of ‘rank’ turn, the mere sight of a spinner 22 yards away seemed to be enough to have England’s batsmen nervously shuffling and prodding anywhere but near the ball.

There’s a lesson to be learnt. That to be considered the best team in the world more widely than just in the ICC Rankings, a team must win throughout the world, displaying aptitude against pace, seam, swing , and spin, in any and every set of conditions. Based on this conclusion, it’s fair to say that realistically, we are yet to establish another ‘No.1’ side since the retirement of Warne, McGrath, Gilchrist et al in 2007, and the subsequent decline in fortunes of the Australian team after more than a decade of domination.

On England’s recent showing, the search for a successor continues. However, there’s a serious practical consideration to be taken from examining what makes a side truly the best. It concerns something talked about increasingly in recent years as the saviour of Test cricket – the proposed Test Championship.

Put forward as an instrument for stimulating bigger crowds and reviving interest in the majority of Test nations outside England and Australia, this championship would see the top four nations compete in semi-finals and a final at the culmination of a four year cycle. Putting aside the fact that interest is unlikely to skyrocket in anticipation of a final four years away, if approved, the inaugural finals would be held in one of the Test countries, most probably England.

Spot the problem? The location of these finals would undoubtedly go a substantial way towards determining the winner, and even if that were not the case, the outcome would hardly receive a respectful reception worldwide. Imagine a scenario in which England romp home over an Indian side at Lord’s and are declared the indisputable Test champions for the next four years, rather like is currently the case in ODI cricket. The acceptance of this by the wider cricketing world, especially the subcontinent where cricket is a different ball game, is doubtful to say the least.

It would be nice I admit, in a perfect and simple world, to have some sort of definitive competition, ending in one match to crown the winner. However, Test cricket has always been a far more complex and diverse a sport in nature than say, football or rugby. In the modern world, we constantly strive to categorise, define, and seek quick results and instant gratification, both in watching a sport and determining the winner. The beauty of Test cricket is the progression and evolution, the sometimes gradual, sometimes sudden ebb and flow which takes place, both over the course of a five-day contest, but also in the fortunes of a team over a longer period of time, from London to Cape Town, Brisbane to Delhi. Just as the current rankings system is clearly too simplistic and inaccurate, the battle for supremacy of a sport such as Test cricket can never and must never be compressed to a single game either. It is so much more than that.

From Tareque Laskar, India

Test cricket is simply The Format of the game. Defending Test cricket has become like defending the classics – too many people are going on the lines of ‘hey Beethoven is the best because Beethoven is Beethoven, you know – classic and timeless’. That’s not quite the right line of reasoning, I am afraid. If you have to make people believe that the value of something being classic stems from the fact that it is considered, well, classic you’ve got yourself running around in circles more confusing than Google +’s.

Gideon Haigh, a writer I tremendously admire, wrote an excellent piece where he said ‘Cricket owes the Test match everything’ because it remains the last bastion of excellence. Peter Roebuck, another writer who’s an absolute pleasure to read also wrote about how Test Cricket is the ‘Primal Contest’ between bat and ball. ‘Cricket is a contest between bat and ball, a struggle that reaches its highest form in the Test arena’ goes his opening line echoing the ‘excellence’ argument of Haigh’s.

Both the views highlight how a Test can have so much wrapped in itself that unravels as a treasure of trove of understanding human and sporting behaviour, learning your own little life lessons and of course enjoying the craft of cricket, with all its nuances and nips and tucks.

I reluctantly learnt to love the format because my formative years mostly comprised the 1987 World Cup and those endless tournaments in Sharjah punctuated by an incredibly boring India v Pakistan series that was a 0-0 draw. But when I saw a few Tests down under and then some dramatically swinging ones in England, my understanding of the game and its nature was thoroughly reformed.

Test matches’ rigor and cannot be navigated by cricketers who learn by rote, it needs scholars of the game who unfurl in front of us their deep and layered understanding of the game – an apex of their experiences that has (and will have) no parallel. Boring contests, the ones that critics use to discredit Test cricket are a result of the absence of good conditions (one-sided pitches – whether favouring bat or ball are plain bad) and motivation (matches need good context and well-rested and hungry players).

Me and my friends got so influenced by Tests that we started playing only Test matches in our backyards! We would love the fact that a narrative would unfurl over the week not knowing which of our teams will emerge winners (or maybe even a draw) at the end of the week. Every night we’d quietly think of what will happen tomorrow and consider all possibilities.

Test cricket is great because your appreciation of the game is elevated to a different level by it. Much like Beethoven is great because you understand so much more about music when to listen to one of his symphonies.

From Philip and Alan Sutherland, Australia

Ryan ten Doeschate and Niall O'Brien [wicketkeeper] could be part of the same Test team © AFP

As the first nations leave the World Cup stage and, in the case of some, their barest fifteen seconds of fleeting fame – whither the Associates? They have both succeeded and failed in equal measure. Netherlands pushed England. Ireland tested Bangladesh and prevailed over England. Both Kenya and Canada showed glimpses of spirit beyond their present humble standing. Yet, if any of these nations are to rise further, opportunities must be presented to players beyond the closing door of 50-over World Cup participation and the all too brief possibilities of a Twenty20 version.

The wait that Associate nations endure is long and, therefore, their opportunities once given must be longer. At present, the long-form opportunities at the highest level seem limited to particular European players potentially donning an England Test cap. There seems no alternative other than this to a long graft, honing one’s skills at club level or in foreign competitions while first-class structures, whether national or continental, finally come to fruition.

The sad reality is that Test status, even for a skilled and centrally-contracted Irish team, is some way off. However, it is remiss of us to think of Test status as something that must pit sovereign nation against sovereign nation. It is worth remembering that if cricketers from Northern Ireland are to represent the Shamrocks against England & Wales, they are effectively joining a neighbour on the field of play against another part of their own greater nation state of the United Kingdom. There is also the matter of Rest of the World games, such as occurred at the SCG back in 2005. The Rest of the World can never be a nation state, in part or in whole. Yet, did it invalidate the idea behind the tour? We think not.

Therein may be found one possibility that doesn’t appear to have been duly considered as yet. “Rest of the World” need not merely imply a “rest of the Test world”. There is no inherent reason why such a team could not be raised entirely from the major Associates. Two World Cups in a row have indicated ample talent in the Associate ranks. Ryan ten Doeschate may never play in a Test for Netherlands, but he could play at least a couple of Tests alongside the likes of Ireland’s O’Brien brothers against a major country such as Pakistan in a major venue such as England, for example, if the ICC so wished.

Alternatively, a combined Associates team could be included in a proper Test championship. Such opportunities need to be created. One need look no further than the success of Sri Lanka to see how, in the matter of twenty years or so, a minnow can become a major force. And yes, Sri Lanka was subject to a different set of domestic circumstances, but that merely reinforces the argument that something different needs to be applied for minnows today. For an international cricketer in Ireland to have chosen the game over rugby, soccer, Gaelic football or hurling and to have devoted his time to it year after year with little fortune or fame by association is to have made a major commitment. The game would do well to be seen to reciprocate a little more.

From Alan and Philip Sutherland, Australia

The ICC must think of Ireland's inclusion © Getty Images

If the ICC is serious about the retention of Test cricket as the ultimate form of the game, and surely it is, then it must act immediately on the simmering issue of a Test Championship. Cricket must decide, every four years and without doubt, which team is best. Association football and athletics have their World Cup and Olympic Games and the media interest generated by these events is massive. While Test cricket cannot compete on an equal footing with the global nature of these other sports, it can attempt to lift its status.

There appears to be ample support for a Championship among senior players (both current and former) such as Steve Waugh, Kumar Sangakarra and Graeme Smith to name a few. The difficulty, it seems, is the nature of the game. A Test generally takes four or five days to conclude and this is obviously a lot longer than a ninety-minute game of soccer or a ten-second sprint. Therefore, condensing Test cricket into a tournament, like the one-Day or T20 world championship, is entirely impractical.

However, that doesn't mean an end to the idea. The alternative is, quite simply, playing an on-going championship over the entire four years. It is unfortunate but, in order to accommodate this, teams would need to be split. At the moment there is a top tier of five Test-playing nations who are of similar standard. These are India, South Africa, Australia, Sri Lanka and England. If these five nations were to schedule home and away series against each other over a three to three-and-a-half-year period, the top two teams could then play off for the title of undisputed world champion. The fourth and fifth ranked teams would play to avoid relegation. Equally, the victor of the sixth and seventh ranked teams (drawn from the pooling of Pakistan, New Zealand, the West Indies, Bangladesh and, hopefully, Zimbabwe and Ireland) would have the opportunity to move up to the top group. Competition would thus be far more even.

Naturally, other series could still take place. India would be free to take on Pakistan and New Zealand could play Australia, but they would probably need to be limited to one or two Tests per series in order to fit in within an ever-tightening schedule. Limits may also need to be imposed on the ever-growing T20 circuit. The Australian Big Bash, Champions League and IPL have all shown that the 20-over game is viable at domestic level. There is a strong case for it remaining there. The game cannot afford both a 20-over version and a 50-over one at international level without reducing fixtures. The ICC must decide which shortened version it wants or impose some balance to the schedules.

If T20 is to remain internationally, it must be on a four-year World Cup rotation. Currently, the schedule is squeezing any possibility of a Test Championship out. The schedule must be eased. Dividing the Test world in two, at least on paper, is not an idea which will be easy to sell. Yet, there is little choice. Lovers of the game should welcome the day when Bangladesh goes into bat against Zimbabwe in the deciding rubber of a Test Championship. That day is, unfortunately, a long way off. In the current Test rankings, Bangladesh have just 273 points from 28 matches. The number-one ranking India have 4719 points in 38 matches. The discrepancy is too great for a game of nine or ten nations to bear.

Yes, the minnows will improve by playing the best teams, but they need also to win more games and they will do so quicker in a schedule which is weighted more towards their form. We must think of Ireland's inclusion. One-off Tests against Australia as a lead-up to the Ashes in England, as suggested here in Inbox, are exactly what will be needed. But equally, major series against Bangladesh, Zimbabwe, West Indies, New Zealand and Pakistan, would give Ireland the opportunity to enter the Test scene without the fear of constant and unedifying thrashings. A quick glance at the ratings will show a difference between fifth and sixth places of over 20%. A two-tier system would heighten the competition exactly there, in the middle.

The result would be unlike football relegations because there would be far fewer teams involved and there shall always be an opportunity to play outside a division, especially in the shorter formats. One can only hope that the introduction of such a system may provide encouragement for other emerging nations to join the Test fold.

From S Giridhar and VJ Raghunath, India

	Andrew Flintoff immediately consoles Brett Lee after the famous Edgbaston Test of 2005 © Getty Images

There is something innate, something unique about how every person is wired that determines the sporting spirit quotient of an individual. What is special about cricket is that from the time we begin to play the game expectations are set – of upholding the spirit of the game, that spirit signifying integrity, uprightness, honesty, keeping team interest above self interest and so on.

In this essay we describe some of the most moving incidents of warmth, generosity and nobility seen on the ground, to show that sportsman spirit transcends times, cultures and geographies. Many of these wonderful sporting gestures extracted their price – the games turned in favour of the opponent; some of these players lost their places in the Test team but none of these considerations ever entered their mind.

In an Ashes Test in 1964, Fred Titmus, the England batsman, slipped on wet grass and was hopelessly stranded mid pitch, but Wally Grout, the Australian wicket keeper, did not whip the bails off and instead allowed Titmus to gain his ground. In Grout’s books taking advantage of a mishap like that was simply not cricket.

Grout is famous for another magnificent act of sportsmanship. At Melbourne in the last Test of the famous 1960-61 series against West Indies, when Grout ran two runs, the Windies keeper Gerry Alexander was pointing out that a bail had been dislodged. With no one sure of what had happened the Umpire gave Grout the benefit of doubt. But Grout felt he should not have been reprieved and simply gave his wicket away the next ball.

Whatever we may say, one plays to compete and win and nothing exemplifies this as much as the battle for the Ashes. As England beat Australia by two runs in the Edgbaston Test of 2005, Brett Lee the batsman sank to his knees in utter despair. The English players embraced and celebrated but Andrew Flintoff, the hero of England’s triumph, had already slipped away to Brett Lee, to console him. The picture of Flintoff putting his hands around the disconsolate Lee is probably the most memorable one of the year.

Such spirit is not restricted to players. Certain cricket grounds are blessed with a special bond with the spirit of the game. In December 1998, all of India was disappointed when India lost to Pakistan by 12 runs and one of Tendulkar’s greatest tons went in vain. The crowd at Chennai ought to have been the ones who were most devastated. Somehow, the 60,000 people at the stadium found the nobility to rise up and give the Pakistan team a standing ovation and the picture of the Pakistani team’s victory lap is etched in memory for ever.

Captains can set the tone for such uplifting behaviour. In the Jubilee Test (1980) at Mumbai, with England tottering on 85 for 5, Bob Taylor was given out caught behind. But India’s captain for the test Gundappa Viswanath pleaded with the umpires to recall Taylor because he thought the batsman was not out. Taylor returned to forge a match-winning partnership with Ian Botham. None of this mattered to Viswanath, because he simply did not know any other way to play the game.

Should batsmen walk or not has always been a hot debate. To Viswanath it was no debate. How many times have we seen, Vishy simply tuck his bat and walk the minute he snicked, even before the fielders could appeal. Lara too was priceless in this aspect. To the consternation of umpires, he would turn and walk on LBW appeals, even as umpires were shaking their head to turn the appeal down. Dravid, Indian readers will remember walked, when he was on 95 in his maiden innings at Lord's in 1996. How many would do such a thing? Among the Aussies, Gilchrist was the sole exception, walking even before the umpire gave him out. He set such high standards for himself that it became an embarrassment for the rest of the Australian team. By no means should we look down upon batsmen who wait for the umpire’s verdict but these walkers simply tug your heart.

	It was a photo finish after both Shane Watson and Simon Katich ran towards the same end in the Melbourne Test against Pakistan © Getty Images

Among the bowlers who have been great ambassadors for the spirit of cricket, we cannot think of a better example than Courtney Walsh. In a 1987 World Cup match against Pakistan, Walsh earned eternal respect as a gentleman cricketer because in a needle situation he refused to run out the Pakistan batsman who kept running out of the non-striker’s crease despite being warned not to do so. Walsh’s sporting gesture cost West Indies the match (and they were knocked out of the tournament) but Walsh quite simply did not want to win any other way.

One of the great and towering personalities of cricket in the early days of Test cricket, Dr. WG Grace was known to take advantage of his position and stature at every opportunity and would intimidate umpires even in village matches (remember the famous “they have come to see me bat, not to see this fellow bowl”). There is this story of an exasperated bowler telling Grace, “Doc, why are you going, there is still one stump standing”.

Luckily some of the great batsmen who followed him were wonderful sportsmen. Jack Hobbs was the epitome of sportsmanship. In a Test match, he asked Aussie keeper Bert Oldfield if he was out and when Oldfield confirmed this, Hobbs walked. And Australian hero Victor Trumper was revered by all as the perfect human being - naïve and kind hearted to a fault.

One of the finest instances of sportsmanship was in 1953 when Australia played South Africa. Neil Harvey was in superb form. Batting with Harvey, was Arthur Morris on 99 when they were stranded at the same end as a result of Harvey’s bad calling. Morris sacrificed his wicket. As he passed a crestfallen Harvey he is supposed to have told him - you better make up for my missed century and score a double hundred. Harvey did go on to make his first double century. This is in such stark contrast to a recent muddle in the Australia-Pakistan series, when Shane Watson and Simon Katich literally competed against each other to regain the nearest crease after a muddled call had them stranded. They had to be separated in a photo finish!

The sporting spirit in cricket has usually been discussed in rather simplistic frameworks. There is a section of opinion which believes that when the game moved from amateur to professional status and then to the intense commercialisation of modern days, it lost the gentility associated with the game. The other section is of the view that because we see and hear everything on TV, we feel the spirit has deteriorated whereas it may not be really so. Both may be correct to an extent but there is much more to it.

We hope that we have been able to bring out some evidence to show that magnanimous gestures have embellished modern times as much as the earlier times. In an ironic sense, perhaps modern-day TV coverage might well become the reason that the spirit of cricket is preserved, for no cricketer would want to be shown up as a boor or have his integrity questioned. From there to more voluntary acts of sportsmanship may not be such a big leap after all.

From Veer, United States

	Will playing Tests under lights just be gimmickry which won't help the five-day game? © Getty Images

Is Test cricket really the only game played over several days? I was reading Mr. Modi's interview regarding eyeballs to Test cricket necessitating a move to a day-night format. Is that the cure that will set right the ills of this format? He also mentioned advertiser friendliness as a motivator for broadcasters to carry it consistently - is this an issue?

I am not certain that these are, infact, unique to Test cricket. There are other sports played over multiple days - golf is one example. Each golf tournament is played over four days - it just so happens that the four days always include Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. In other words, all tournaments get a weekend, some tournaments get to enjoy the crowds over a three-day weekend.

The crowds are not huge at the venue as most holes do not have galleries and the sport being played over many acres is not exactly the most spectator friendly. Even so, TV contracts are still sizeable.

Would Test cricket alone fetch similar contracts today? A highly doubtful proposition. But then, what makes golf succeed in preserving its long format while cricket struggles to keep it true to tradition? A prime cause is the dilution of the competitive quality of Test cricket. Second, is the negligent attitude shown by having some Test matches played from Monday to Friday, missing out on the weekend crowds. Third, is scheduling - a uniform schedule will go so much farther across nations.

There are more, but of one thing I am certain; if golf can do it with its smaller audience, cricket can do a whole lot better if only the right questions are asked. Gimmickry is not the solution in my opinion, though Mr. Modi, as a seasoned cricket administrator, has had the experience to hone his views.

From S Giridhar and VJ Raghunath, India

Bert Sutcliffe, with a heavily bandaged head, smashed seven sixes in an unbelievable counterattack against South Africa © Getty Images

We are both incurable cricket romantics and will carry to the end of our lives the belief that much that is noble about the game will remain unsullied by passage of time. However much the external attributes of cricket may have changed, we believe the intrinsic quintessential qualities of courage and nobility remain forever entwined with the game. In this essay we will describe why courage is such a moving emotion and ennobling aspect of the game.

While this article mainly captures Indian heroics, we also showcase a few from other countries including perhaps the most moving story of courage that New Zealand will forever be proud of.

To regular readers who know our fondness for fielding, it will be no surprise that we begin with stories of fielding courage. Eknath Solkar without helmet at short leg is too well known. But forgotten is the saga of Sunil Gavaskar the fielder. Standing in a Test in New Zealand in 1976 at that same forward short leg, vacated by Solkar, he broke his cheek bone when Lance Cairns (a fiercer hitter than his son Chris) smashed a sweep into his face. A few years later, the summer of 1982, when Gavaskar was captain of a beleaguered Indian team, he stood at silly point and Ian Botham broke Gavaskar’s shin bone with a crack that sounded like a pistol shot. Remember, Gavaskar was captain and could have stationed himself anywhere but opted to be in the line of fire. The fractured shin bone episode became famous as Gavaskar was photographed in crutches with India’s PM and the US President Reagan, at a Washington function a month later. Love him or hate him, one of the world’s finest openers displayed guts while fielding too.

Courage while batting evokes much vivid imagery. Batsmen hit on the face, spitting out blood to take guard again and so on. No story of Indian batsmen grievously injured is more poignant than that of Charlie Griffith felling Nari Contractor in the West Indies 50 years ago. Grainy photographs, black and white in our newspapers, showed the West Indies captain Frank Worrell, distraught and first in the queue at the hospital to donate blood for the emergency operation. Contractor never played for India again but both of us saw him bat with undiminished commitment for West Zone after recovering from the near fatal injury.

At Chennai in 1964, chasing a moderate target set by Australia, India lost four wickets cheaply by the end of the fourth day. On the fifth day morning, Vijay Manjrekar, who had injured his thumb while fielding, now came out to bat with Hanumant Singh. Manjrekar had to cut off the thumb part of the glove since his swollen thumb could not go into any protective covering. Injured thumb exposed, wincing with pain every time he played the rampaging McKenzie, he gave company to Hanumant Singh (playing beautifully) for almost the entire morning session. Finally, at the stroke of lunch, Manjrekar was dismissed. The batsmen who followed failed to take India home and Manjrekar’s heroics went in vain.

Of the montages of courage from the 1980s, there is one story much told, the other rarely told. Mohinder Amarnath, hit by Malcolm Marshall, spat out teeth and blood and had to walk away to hospital. Returning to bat next day in the same blood splattered shirt he hit the first ball – a bouncer predictably greeted him – out of the ground. Never a backward step was his motto. Mohinder’s courage is folklore. But two years earlier, in Australia, India’s Sandip Patil was felled by a bouncer. Carried off, and groggy for the rest of the match, he had a captain who wanted Patil to bat again. Sick and wobbly, Patil came out, battled for a few balls and was duly dismissed. Gavaskar, his captain, applauded him all the way back. For what mattered was that by coming out to bat, Patil had exorcised fear and also communicated that he had done so.

Examples of raw guts and courage are many across the world of cricket over the years. The most moving and compelling story is that of an injured Bert Sutcliffe battling for New Zealand against South Africa in December 1953. Badly injured by a Neil Adcock bouncer, Sutcliffe returned from hospital with a heavily bandaged head and hit seven sixes in an unbelievable counterattack, making 80 out of 105. If Sutcliffe battled physical injury it was poignant that Bob Blair the man who partnered him in this effort had suffered even more grievously. News had just come that Blair’s fiancée had been killed in a train accident. How Blair found the courage to keep his mind in a heroic tenth-wicket stand with Sutcliffe will forever be one of the most amazing stories of fortitude. Finally Blair was dismissed and then he let the tears come. As the pair walked back, arms draped over each other, weeping and emotionally drained, there was not a dry eye that day in the crowd.

Mention of the infamous Bodyline series in 1932-33, is usually associated with the bravery of the Australian batsmen. But the series is also remembered for an Englishman who demonstrated remarkable strength of will. Eddie Paynter was hospitalised with tonsillitis and fever but with England’s batting wobbling in Brisbane, Douglas Jardine asked Paynter to report at the ground and bat. Sick and groggy with medication, Paynter batted for over four hours, spending the intervening night at hospital, to make a gallant 87. England won this Test.

Another great story that comes to mind is Colin Cowdrey coming to bat with his left arm in a plaster against West Indies at Lords in 1963 to ensure a draw for England. This, after Brian Close had played a great innings of courage taking Hall and Griffith repeatedly on his body and not flinching one bit. There is a photograph in Ian Wooldridge’s book “Cricket, Lovely Cricket” on this series showing Close with a towel round his waist displaying the bruises all over his upper body. When the fearsome West Indies fast bowlers visited England in 1976, the selectors asked Close who was 45 years old to open the innings. His reflexes had waned but his ability to take blows on his body and grit it out in the middle was undiminished. Close simply knew no fear. He stood at pickpocketing distance from batsmen at short leg and in that 1963 series caught Sobers off a hook at that position! Close was one of a kind.

There are many stirring stories of bowlers transcending injury and great pain to bowl unbelievable spells. Indians of course will never forget a lame Kapil Dev delivering them a victory at Melbourne in 1981.The most striking story in recent times is that of Anil Kumble on India’s tour of the Caribbean in 2002. Jaw fractured by Dillon, strapped up tight and scheduled to fly back for a surgery, Kumble came out to bowl as he always did – with fierce resolve and concentration; he got Lara with a gem and, arms raised, walked way. However often this vignette is played and replayed, the sheer power of the episode will never fade. To represent bowling heroes from other countries we pick Malcolm Marshall’s spell of 7 for 53 at Headingly in 1984 as an example of indomitable will and courage. Bowling with his left hand encased in pink plaster, Marshall created a unique piece of cricket history.

No essay on courage will be complete unless we salute Mansur Ali Khan Pataudi. Having lost one eye in a motoring accident in England in 1962, Pataudi played almost all his Test cricket with one eye. That in itself has no parallel in cricket history. But at Melbourne, in 1967– 68, Pataudi also had to bat on one leg because he had an injured hamstring. Pataudi was resplendent in a losing cause as he produced two of the most combative innings (75 and 85) in cricket history. Listening to Alan McGilvray over radio and reading Jack Fingleton in the Hindu next morning, it was clear Pataudi's efforts were something truly heroic. That is not all. In 1975, his powers and reflexes gone, Pataudi was smashed on the jaw by Andy Roberts at his fastest in Kolkata. Coming back to cheers from the crowd, after stitches on his chin, Pataudi turned the clock back and exploded with a cascade of boundaries. The blazing counterattack was brief, he made just 36 but as Pataudi walked off , the Kolkata crowd knowing that they will never see him in another Test, stood up to give him an unforgettable farewell.

We have only showcased a few heroes but there are so many more. Players of the unhelmeted era faced Trueman and Tyson, McKenzie, Lillee and Thomson, Gilchrist, Griffith, Roberts and Holding with no arm guards, chest guards or helmets as protection. They had a bat and they had their eyes and reflexes. We invite our readers to share other episodes of bravery and courage.

The next part of this essay will be about stories of great sportsmanship, for as we said before, gentility and nobility like courage have an umbilical relationship with cricket. Nothing can change that, ever.