I’M a die-hard Zimbabwe cricket fan since 1987. I’m a doctor from India.After reading Darlington Majonga’s column, I’m just hoping through this mail that the players’ soul-searching will repair t
he tarnished image of Zimbabwe Cricket.
March 15 2003 for me is a day when Zimbabwe’s cricket god was crucified by dirty politics. A day when cricket withered but Andy Flower blossomed.
Words shall never ever describe the effort by this cricketer who changed the face of cricket in his country, played the role of saviour many times and taught me so much apart from cricket.
Andy Flower, the Zimbabwean definition of a superhero, wore on his arm the pride of the nation, the passion to play, the commitment and the hopes of millions suffering there. It will remain a pity that the “show of emotion” at Buffalo Park was cut short by Brian Jerling.
My cricket god, who swears he is just an average cricketer who wants nothing to do with sentimentality and fairytale endings and all that media hype, had proved a point. He sacrificed his career for Zimbabwe’s people.
Flower’s final walk was like a scarred but unvanquished soldier trooping gracefully in his moving pursuit of excellence in spite of the wounds suffered in a long war.
He sparkles like a dewdrop poised on a beautiful Zimbabwean flower in a garden of world cricket.
The cricket World Cup has seen many heroes but all Indians like me and, in fact, our own Sachin Tendulkar, would probably agree that the real heroes of the 2003 edition were Flower and his comrade Henry Olonga.
As Flower left the shores of Harare, it was time for mourning the death of cricket in Zimbabwe. My cricket god was crucified so it was farewell to cricket for me but the morals, character and mental toughness that I learnt from Andrew Flower will never ever die.
I salute the real son of Zimbabwe!