Kusal Janith Perera was right-handed. Is right-handed could also be correct. I have not read anything that indicates he is ambidextrous. And yet, he bats left-handed. Most cricket fans would know why.
Kusal was determined to emulate his cricketing hero, Sanath Jayasuriya, one of the most explosive left-hand batters of his time. So he decided he would bat left-handed. He hasn’t exactly matched the Master Blaster in terms of runs, fours, sixers, average and strike rate across all formats, but Kusal has had splendid days out there in the middle in all formats.
It takes a lot of effort. I can’t begin to fathom the amount of work he would have had to put in. I am right-handed and I find it tedious to use my left hand with a spanner, part of scissors or pen, or even to turn a key on a lock.
Kusal Janith Perera is one of a kind, I feel. It is quite possible that his numbers would have been pretty much the same or even better had he tried to be a right-handed Jayasuriya. We will never know now.
We do know that hard work pays. It is an exceptional work ethic that turns talented into consistent and brilliant into legendary. That’s what is common in stories of those whose names come into the frame when ‘the greatest’ of any sport is debated.
You don’t have to read all the biographies of the greats to figure this out. It is something we know intuitively. That’s ‘theory’. The proof or rather the delivery has to be in practice. Tillakaratne Dilshan’s explanation of developing fielding skills puts things in perspective. This is what he said during an interview aired on Sirasa TV:
‘Back in the day, I was determined to do well with the bat and if I failed then somehow save 10 to 20 runs in the field. I worked hard on my fielding, all by myself. I had a daily personal plan. I would not go home until I had ten direct hits [at the wickets]. Initially it took me an hour or two. After about six hours of this regimen, I could achieve the target in approximately five minutes.’
Dilshan is considered one of the best fielders who ever wore the Sri Lankan cap. Now we know how it happened. Not just talent, but relentless practice.
There are no shortcuts to greatness. Moreover, as Dilshan’s story shows, the task set is not ‘greatness’ but, let’s say, ‘betterness;’ consistently seeking improvement. What started as an exercise that required a couple of hours to complete would have gradually taken 100 minutes, 80 minutes, half an hour, 15 minutes and so on until just five minutes would suffice.
Booker Prize winner Shehan Karunatilleka once told me that at one point in his life he had decided he would write a novel and to this end he designed a strict regimen that included wake-up and go-to-bed times and a specific writing-time in his wakeful hours. It must have been difficult at first. Of course such discipline can be seen as a necessary but not sufficient condition to achieve greatness as a writer, but then again if you don’t write, you just won’t get your novel done, forget the Booker, a Pulitzer or a Nobel Prize.
We have
all seen Dilshan’s amazing athleticism on the field. Sanka Vidanagama's photograph captures it really well. Dilshan has drawn oohs and
aahs from crowds all over the world. That’s the end point. In most
cases, that’s what is evident. We have seen direct hits but that’s not
all that made people gasp. Spectacular catches and incredible stops are
part of Dilshan’s fielding highlights reel. He saved runs and he helped
make the bowling figures of his teammates pretty.
In 497
international Dilshan has figured in 57 run outs. His ‘run out rate’ is
marginally better than Sanath Jayasuriya’s (63 in 587 internationals).
Ricky Ponting (86/543) has been more lethal but not by much. The
inimitable Jonty Rhodes (68/297) stands apart, of course.
Jack Clayton, writing for www.stumps.com,
says that Jonty had a ‘don’t stop me now’ approach to practicing:
‘Stories of him delaying the team bus to get in one more round of reflex
catching on the training pitch sum up the man's mythology.’ Dilshan was
no different.
The lesson is clearly applicable to all sports. I
am thinking of Dennis Rodman, arguably the best rebounder in basketball
history. He found ways of being at the right place and jumping or
moving at the right time and pace respectively to put up amazing
rebounding numbers. Practice, that’s how he did it. He would get balls
thrown at the basket from all angles in quick succession and then try to
grab them all off the rim or the glass. This is how the relevant
physics becomes second nature.
That’s how archers hit bullseyes consistently. That’s how Dilshan ran people out. No shortcuts. Just. Hard. Work.
['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is the 287th article in the new series that began in December 2022. Links to previous articles are given below]
malindadocs@gmail.com
Other articles in this series:
Love-residue on park benches that have disappeared
Reflections on things left unfinished
The virtues of an empty canvas
Autumn days and nights thirteen centuries apart
Texts are ancient, transcription error-ridden
The word as a sword held to the throat of truth
Residents of and residency in heart and mind
Merit, integrity and seniority in the superior courts
Hunters and 'victims' of immemorial light
The unbearable lightness of pause
Seasons bookeneded by leaves on park benches
The world shall not be emptied of poetry
Reclaiming the everyday with solidarities of tender fury
An Aussie broke a SLan heart in Ind for Afg
Writing magical pieces about something beautiful when time permits
The scattered archives of art and protest
Friendship that keep friends permanently at 16
Amherst: silent, rural, poetic and serendipitous
The virtues of unemployability
A breathless hush at the close
Ahmed Issa, fearless and audacious in Gaza
Let us take a deep breath now...
How Grolier Poetry writes 'Harvard Square'
Following children and their smiles
Let's plant words in cracks and craters
When the earth closes upon us...
Let us now march to the battleground of words
The most pernicious human shield
Who bombed Frankfurter Buchmesse
Love's austere and lonely offices
The mysteriously enjoined in the middle of nowhere
Reflections on the unimaginable
Jackson Anthony is a book and will be read
A village called Narberth Bookshop
'Irvin' and other one-word poems
Earth pieces Kerala and Sri Lanka
In the land of insomnial poets
When you don't need an invitation, it's home
When the Canadian House of Commons applauded a Nazi...
The importance of not skipping steps
No free passes to the Land of Integrity
Hector Kobbekaduwa is not a building, statue, street or stamp
Rajagala and the Parable of the Panner
Let's show love to Starbucks employees!
Octavio Paz and Arthur C Clarke in the stratosphere
9/11 and the calm metal instrument of Salvador Allende's voice
Whitman, Neruda and things that wait in all things
Thilina Kaluthotage's eyes keep watch
Profit: the peragamankaru of major wars
In loving memory of Carrie Lee (1956-2020)
Mobsters on and off the screen
We're here because we're here because we're here
Sha'Carri Richardson versus and with Sha'Carri Richardson
A stroll with Pragg and Arjun along a boulevard in Baku
Daya Sahabandu ran out of partners but must have smiled to the end
Sapan and voices that erase borders
Problem elephants and problem humans
The 'inhuman' elephant in a human zoo
Ivan Art: Ivanthi Fernando's efforts to align meaning
Let's help Jagana Krishnakumar rebuild our ancestral home
Do you have a friend in Pennsylvania (or anywhere?)
A gateway to illumination in West Virginia
Through strange fissures into magical orchards
There's sea glass love few will see
Re-residencing Lakdasa Wikkramasinha
Poisoning poets and shredding books of verse
The responsible will not be broken
Ownership and tenuriality of the Wissahickon
Did you notice the 'tiny, tiny wayside flowers'?
Gifts, gifting and their rubbishing
Journalism inadvertently learned
Reflections on the young poetic heart
Wordaholic, trynasty and other portmanteaus
The 'Loku Aiya' of all 'Paththara Mallis'
Subverting the indecency of the mind
Character theft and the perennial question 'who am I?'
Saji Coomaraswamy and rewards that matter
Seeing, unseeing and seeing again
Alex Carey and the (small) matter of legacy
The insomnial dreams of Kapila Kumara Kalinga
The clothes we wear and the clothes that wear us (down)
Every mountain, every rock, is sacred
Manufacturing passivity and obedience
Sanjeew Lonliyes: rawness unplugged, unlimited
In praise of courage, determination and insanity
The relative values of life and death
Poetry and poets will not be buried
Reunion Peradeniya (1980-1990)
Sorrowing and delighting the world
Encounters with Liyanage Amarakeerthi
Letters that cut and heal the heart
A forgotten dawn song from Embilipitiya
The soft rain of neighbourliness
Reflections on waves and markings
Respond to insults in line with the Akkosa Sutra
The right time, the right person
The silent equivalent of a thousand words
Crazy cousins are besties for life
The lost lyrics of Premakeerthi de Alwis
Consolation prizes in competitions no one ever wins
Blackness, whiteness and black-whiteness
Inscriptions: stubborn and erasable
Deveni: a priceless one-word koan
Recovering run-on lines and lost punctuation
'Wetness' is not the preserve of the Dry Zone
On sweeping close to one's feet
Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California
To be an island like the Roberts...
Debts that can never be repaid in full
An island which no flood can overwhelm
A melody faint and yet not beyond hearing
Heart dances that cannot be choreographed
Remembering to forget and forgetting to remember
Authors are assassinated, readers are immortal
It is good to be conscious of nudities
Saturday slides in after Monday and Sunday somersaults into Friday
There's a one in a million and a one in ten
Kumkum Fernando installs Sri Lanka in Coachella, California
Hemantha Gunawardena's signature
Architectures of the demolished
The exotic lunacy of parting gifts
Who the heck do you think I am?
Those fascinating 'Chitra Katha'
So how are things in Sri Lanka?
The sweetest three-letter poem
Teams, team-thinking, team-spirit and leadership
The songs we could sing in lifeboats when we are shipwrecked
Jekhan Aruliah set a ball rolling in Jaffna
Awaiting arrivals unlike any other
Teachers and students sometimes reverse roles
Colombo, Colombo, Colombo and so forth
The slowest road to Kumarigama, Ampara
Some play music, others listen
Mind and hearts, loquacious and taciturn
I am at Jaga Food, where are you?
On separating the missing from the disappeared
And intangible republics will save the day (as they always have)
The circuitous logic of Tony Muller
Rohana Kalyanaratne, an unforgettable 'Loku Aiya'
Mowgli, the Greatest Archaeologist
Figures and disfigurement, rocks and roses
Sujith Rathnayake and incarcerations imposed and embraced
Some stories are written on the covers themselves
A poetic enclave in the Republic of Literature
Landcapes of gone-time and going-time
The best insurance against the loud and repeated lie
So what if the best flutes will not go to the best flautists?
There's dust and words awaiting us at crossroads and crosswords
A song of terraced paddy fields
Of ants, bridges and possibilities
From A through Aardvark to Zyzzyva
Words, their potency, appropriation and abuse
Who did not listen, who's not listening still?
If you remember Kobe, visit GOAT Mountain
The world is made for re-colouring
No 27, Dickman's Road, Colombo 5
Visual cartographers and cartography
Ithaca from a long ago and right now
Lessons written in invisible ink
The amazing quality of 'equal-kindness'
The interchangeability of light and darkness
Sisterhood: moments, just moments
Chess is my life and perhaps your too
Reflections on ownership and belonging
The integrity of Nadeesha Rajapaksha
Signatures in the seasons of love
To Maceo Martinet as he flies over rainbows
Fragrances that will not be bottled
Colours and textures of living heritage
Countries of the past, present and future
Books launched and not-yet-launched
The sunrise as viewed from sacred mountains
Isaiah 58: 12-16 and the true meaning of grace
The age of Frederick Algernon Trotteville
Live and tell the tale as you will
Between struggle and cooperation
Neruda, Sekara and literary dimensions
Paul Christopher's heart of many chambers
Calmness gracefully cascades in the Dumbara Hills
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