BEYOND THE CALL OF COACHES – By Capt Elmo Jayawardena
Winds of College cricket are blowing right across the island, and Colombo is rocking with the fanfare of trumpets and unfurling flags heralding the ‘Big Match’ fever. Outstations too have their own carnival cricket with the likes of ‘Battle of the Golds’ in Moratuwa, the ‘Mangosteen Match’ of Kalutara plus another 100 such encounters, filling the weekend timetables. People arrive from all parts of the world to participate in this pulsating event. Conversations become rich with cricketing anecdotes. First to broach the subject with me a week ago was Dr Ranjith Amarasekara who batted ‘one down’ in the big match played under the mercurial Michael Tissera. That’s going pretty far back but, interestingly, still in vogue, when talking ‘Big Matches’.
Who scored a century and who missed catches are common ‘Royal-Thomian’ chitchat. Who was the ‘Bok-ku man’ that frequently sent cover-drives to the ropes, and the sad tragedies of talented youngsters who sky-rocketed to fame and then fell by the wayside are also regrettable remembrances. Then there are the Bacchus-worshipping fairy tales, the jolly intoxicated lot who had their own champions. They were the Lords of the Manor who danced and sang with ‘Papara Bands’ to everyone’s delight. Often one would become the ‘Man of the Match’ in the bygone years, sprawled flat at the Mustang tent, soaking wet with one too many gulps of ‘Halmilla’.
Every waterhole in town gets filled to the brim and the festive mood is almost a week long; a welcome change to ease the recurring gloom and doom of our nation. The bad-news buffets from Diyawanna Oya have become our ‘Daily Bread’. Isn’t it great to have these Big Match interludes at least to colour our lives with much needed hype?
No doubt it is all cricket-talk in the month of March and the battle of the Blues does take a prime place among the teams that play ‘Big Match ‘cricket.
I am no Rex Clementine to give you historical cricket details. But I do know a simple story that I want to share with whoever is reading me. Yes, it is about cricket, not playing cricket, but talking cricket.
There is a grandiose, well-constructed 90-year-old home called Cimslyn in the vicinity of St Joseph’s church in Uyana, Moratuwa. It has been there as far as I can remember. And if one were to look over the wall, there is a well-manicured garden, obviously tended by someone who knew his business. This is Cimslyn, where Uncle Julian was the silent Head Umpire and Aunty Doris ruled the roost with a tight rein. The little boys, five of them, Gerald, Duleep, Manoj, Shammi and Romesh all went through the gates of Cimslyn to go for their cricket practices, a saga that spanned three generations. The Cimslyn Boys were very keen willow wielders, and they all became excellent cricketers wherever they trotted the greens. The Mendis Boys may have been coached by the best in their infant cricket days. But I can categorically state that Aunty Doris was the live wire behind all the Cimslyn cricketers in their fledgling days, when fighting for places in the under 12 and under 14 teams.
I must also bring in the vice-captain of Aunty Doris’ management team, the indefatigable Rita, mother of Manoj and Shammi. She scrubbed and cleaned the little cricketers and made umpteen number of sandwiches. and packed their cricket bags and took the early morning bus to get the budding cricketers to STC for practices.
‘Aunty Doris’ was no cricket coach, but she was the uncontested commander of the Cimslyn cricket herd, loving and caring and controlling with an iron fist, the talented Mendis boys.
Aunty Doris was there when Gerald, the eldest scored a magnificent century in the Moratuwa big match, a feat talked about even to this day. I still remember how a sari clad Doris sprinted like Susanthika to the middle of the pitch to hug her centurion son. She was there when the legendary Duleep Mendis captained STC against Royal at the onset of his incredible cricketing journey of international fame. She was there when Manoj her grandson scored two consecutive centuries and got run out at 70 when he was captaining STC at the big match. She watched Shammi bowl his off-cutters too, the penultimate Cimslyn STC man who went on to play premier league cricket for Oxfordshire.
Yes, the grand old lady Doris, and devoted Rita molded the last Mohican Romesh to become the third STC captain from Cimslyn. Manoj and Eshani, his parents are gratified that his Grandfather Gerald gave his time and energy to unofficially coach Romesh and foster his love for cricket lovely cricket. That’s one slide the great grandmother missed as Aunty Doris is no longer walking this planet. But Granny Rita would have been at the SSC to make sure Captain Romesh would make the Cimslyn colours fly.
I am sure Romesh Mendis would have remembered his Great Grandmother when he walked to toss the coin. How could he not recall the grand matriarch of Cimslyn? Our indomitable Aunty Doris. Who is to say she wasn’t watching Romesh as he led the STC on to the 144th encounter? There certainly would not have been any cricket from Cimslyn without her.
Wherever you are Aunty Doris, you sure did a great job with the Cimslyn Mendis Boys and their unparalleled achievements in cricket.
I am sure there are many like me from the old brigade who will always remember you and the Mendis cricket machine you created.
Capt Elmo Jayawardena
