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I much preferred when my bodily reaction to West Indian cricket was a gut wrenched with fear and not a bleeding heart.
They’ve hit a spectacular new low with their abandoned tour of India, tapping out with one ODI, one Twenty20 and a three match Test series to play due to another dally over the folding gear.
It’s another unseemly episode to add to their recent history of pay squabbles where star players have come and gone from the team like a Caribbean Phil Hughes.
The underlying schisms that seem commonplace between the establishment and the players have split open again, this time with beef anew involving some dicey tactics from the players association.
Trouble was reportedly fermenting prior to the tour and has come to a head with the lousy timing of a tailender, resulting in a stalemate that will punch more wind out of the game’s guts in their part of the world.
I know it’s a sentiment that’s gone from sob story to cliche nowadays, but it has to be said.
What a far cry from the West Indies glorious days of yore. What would their former world-beating legends be thinking about this all-new criminal defilement of the famous badge?
Michael Holding described the situation as “ridiculous” and “embarrassing”, while many others are sure to have similar sentiments of spew, no doubt with ‘mun’ attached to the end.
The days of them being one of world sport’s most respected and recognisable brands have been gone for a while now, but even allowing for their modern-day standards of continual self-harm, this catastrophe is in unchartered Barry Crocker territory. It transcends local boundaries and stings the soul of all cricket fans.
All you want to do is close your eyes and forget about it by going back to that happy Caribbean place in your mind, and I’m not talking about those saucy snaps you have on your phone of Rihanna.
Cast back to the days when they would brown the creams of opposition batsmen and do it with more swag than the Fonz. When their Calippo-cool bats would strut like bantam roosters and toy with attacks, all the while crushing ambition, resolve and Juicy Fruit.
As much as they humiliated our side in their pomp, emasculating our lambs to the slaughter with their charisma and throat-height thunderbolts, and limited careers and left fingers akimbo, they were a joy to watch.
To see what they’ve become, and what the brand will endure after this debacle, it’s a fall from grace that is more ungainly and offensive than a Courtney Walsh forward-defensive.
In the aftermath, the word from the subcontinent is that the West Indies Cricket Board will be receiving a phone call from the evil rupee-hoarders at the BCCI. They will be seeking a ‘please explain’, a request which translated in to Indian cricket parlance means ‘give me everything you own multiplied by 10’.
This is not good news for the touring board’s coffers. They are skint, evidenced by their belt-tightening on player wages that are reportedly being reduced up to 90 per cent, and they’ll be up against a terror cell of legal eagles known for having no hesitation in bouncing the tail.
Add to this, the potential repercussions for West Indian players freelancing in the IPL, disarray for World Cup preparations, another scar to their increasingly irrelevant Test program and dwindling crowds and interest at home, and you’ve got the Windies at a brand new low of crap.
And speaking of the World Cup, prominent Caribbean commentator Tony Cozier believes there is a chance that their participation in the game’s showpiece could be under threat, as this stand-off doesn’t appear to be abating any time soon.
If that happens? Then they’re at an even lower level of crap.
Roarers, is West Indian cricket forever doomed? Has basketball, video games and reggae-infused hip hop torn it’s fabric beyond repair? Or can they bounce back from these cash issues to keep relevant?