In a New Zealand corner, Martin Crowe pads up one last time

He stopped near the landing, bent to adjust his left pad, and walked on to the park to loud cheering. Martin Crowe had come out to bat for the last time in his life.

A small crowd had gathered at the beautiful tree-ringed park in central Auckland for a friendly match organised by Martin’s childhood friend and former New Zealand teammate Mark Greatbatch to celebrate the 60th anniversary of Cornwell Club. Crowe, who was diagnosed with follicular lymphoma in 2012, has stopped chemotherapy and is on a free fall towards the unknown.

“It’s the grace and dignity with which he is handling it that is absolutely stunning and inspiring. It puts so many things in our own little lives in perspective, doesn’t it?” Dion Nash, the former New Zealand allrounder and captain had said earlier in the morning. Nash was there in the afternoon too, bantering with Crowe before the game.

Crowe himself spoke brightly to The Indian Express about the writing on cricket that he has kept up through the illness. “I wrote one yesterday, an open letter to AB de Villiers, and I see he has responded. I saw the video. Generous of him. I just want him to do well and beat Australia, you know!” he laughed.

“I sit and sleep. That’s what I do these days, you know. I have got time to write,” he added after a pause, laughing again. He then started to talk about the short holiday he had taken recently in the seaside town of Nelson.
People came by, a girl asked for his autograph, an elderly woman asked him, “Do you remember Preston?”, and Crowe went “Oh yeah”, lunging forward to shake her hand. The little boys continued to play around him. A World Cup official asked him if he wanted to say something to the media, and he replied, “Yes, I would like to wish the New Zealand team the best.”

As the local TV crew set up their cameras, he said, “I just feel a bit weary today, trying to pull up the energy for tonight, and come to the stadium tomorrow for the game (against Australia).” He reminded everyone that this was “just a round-robin game”, but still hoped it goes down to the last over. He spoke of Brendon McCullum’s “courage” and offered special good wishes to Ross Taylor and Martin Guptill.

And then it was game time. As Rod Latham and Craig Spearman opened under a slight drizzle, the music played and the beer flowed. Someone announced a raffle auction for the benefit of the club. Martin Crowe stood on the patio overlooking the ground, soaking it in.

An old friend walked up for a chat, there was a bear hug and lots of smiles. And then Latham got out, and Trevor Franklin followed soon after, and Crowe disappeared from the patio to pad up.

“We are old friends. Know each other for a long time now. What can you say, he is a good man. It’s so great to see him have this one chance to come out and bat again. He will derive great pleasure from this. We are all here for him of course, but it’s batting that gives him the greatest joy,” said the man he had been chatting with.

Soon, Spearman was dismissed. “Mr Spearman is out and it’s 98 for 3 in 14 overs,” came the announcement. And down the stairs came Martin Crowe. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Martin Crowe,” called out the MC, to cheers.

The drizzle had stopped, and Crowe looked up over his left shoulder towards the sky. “The sun is out for the great man,” boomed the PA system.

He settled into the familiar, slightly open stance, with a vigorous shake of the left shoulder, and it was yesterday once more. The first ball was a gentle lob from a left-arm spinner, and he sashayed down the track for the drive. He flicked, cut, and eventually unfurled the on drive past the bowler that would in the 80s and 90s identify him as among the greatest batsmen ever to have played the game.

There were other memories to take away from his final innings. The shadow-practice of shots, the greedy run on an overthrow, the shake of the head after missing trying to flick, the swapping of the bat after Martin Pringle got out. The new piece of wood brought Crowe a four — a slice over point — triggering cheers from the adoring crowd.

For a brief while, Greatbatch and Crowe had a partnership. Both men went to the same Epson Grammar School, played for this club, and sparkled at that 1992 World Cup. At the end of an over, Crowe put an arm around Greatbatch’s shoulders and the old mates had a laugh.

“Oh, he just said it felt wonderful to be out in the sun and that it was a great day to be out there,” Greatbatch would say later. “This is Martin’s last innings and I am just happy that he agreed to come by for this friendly. We know each other from when we were this young,” he said, his hand reaching about knee-high. “It’s a great day.”

For the record, Martin Crowe scored 25 not out in his last innings, off 20 balls and in as many minutes, with a four and memories to last his spectators a lifetime.

Afterward, he slipped into a t-shirt, walked around the patio, looked out at the ground at his teammates, and then walked alone to the parking lot and drove away.

Sometime earlier, he had spoken about his dad. “I am going to treat this as my last outing on the old ground. My dad’s ashes are up there at that bench and it would be nice to last an over. If I last an over!” He did better.