In a dream that often recurs I find I am visiting familiar places, some I may have lived in, others merely travelled through, and people I knew still reside where they did, hang out under the same light pole, are doing the same things they used to. The only person that’s changed is me and I get the feeling I am a traveller looking at an unchanged past. I found similar thoughts coming back, though I was wide awake this time, while watching Sanath Jayasuriya bat on Wednesday.

He is still crashing the ball past a bewildered fielder at point, surprising third man who might harbour thoughts of reaching the ball; still playing the pick up shot and depositing the ball into the stands at square leg; still charging back for the second like there is a brownie waiting for him. There is still a great simplicity of thought and action and often those are the humble building blocks of greatness. He is now the oldest man to score a one-day hundred and I suspect that, like Sergei Bubka, he will keep breaking his own record.

I had the opportunity of watching him closely when he played for the Mumbai Indians last year and was struck by the passion he still exudes. It is no coincidence that the two longest serving international cricketers love the game deeply and with no reservation. And so, thirteen years after he set the cricket world alight at the World Cup, that itself seven years after his debut, he continues to be Sri Lanka’s talisman cricketer; his is still the wicket valued more than any other. Jayasuriya makes age look like an irrelevant statistic. There is still joy and anger and disappointment and a burning desire to win. Cricket is not yet a chore, arriving at the ground is not yet a job. When that happens he will age rapidly, young men will knock him over without realising the enormity of what they have done.

... contd.