The man who made Lankans fearsome

Rohit Mahajan

Sanath Jayasuriya, scorer of 3,927 international runs against India, most of them in a scary manner, was a very significant player. He was Sehwag before Sehwag arrived — it would be more fitting to refer to Sehwag as Jayasuriyan, for the Sri Lankan preceded the Indian master by nine years.

Sri Lanka won the World Cup in 1996, a little over 14 years after the team played its first Test — a remarkable achievement. Sri Lanka has a rich history in cricket and, indeed, they had figured in each World Cup since the inaugural tournament in 1975, like other major teams. But in 1996 they concocted a magic formula — it had a large dose of Jayasuriya in it. Jayasuriya and his opening partner Romesh Kaulwitharana launched a murderous assault on bowlers in that tournament. 

The Jayasuriya effect stunned cricket — he played only two significant knocks against strong teams in the tournament and failed in the semis and final, yet was named the World Cup’s most valuable player. He made 221 runs in the tournament, and three of his teammates outscored him; this book notes that when “lights shone brightly over Sri Lanka” after the final, it was “due to the brilliance” of Jayasuriya. That’s debatable, but Jayasuriya did epitomise the scary new Sri Lanka that came to the fore that year.

Jayasuriya was more than a one-tournament player — he played his greatest innings away from the 1996 World Cup. For instance, the 340 against India in a Test at home in 1997, and two overseas 200s, including one in England. His 189 in an ODI against India in Sharjah in 2000 was more than three times what the Indian team managed (54). As a bowler, he was especially effective in ODIs, very stingy on sticky wickets. As a cricket official and politician, he was probably a survivalist and a pawn, but undoubtedly always in the midst of controversy.

Last month Jayasuriya was banned from all cricket-related activities for failing “to cooperate” with an ICC investigation into corruption. He said he accepted the ban due to his love for cricket, and did not contest the charges because this would “exhaust” him mentally and physically, and also cost him a lot money. 

This book’s timing means that this significant development isn’t part of it — his side of the story is worth looking into in detail.

This is a useful biography — mainly cricketing — of the man, tracing the journey of a boy from a hamlet called Kotuwegoda to superstardom. The author, a former journalist who is now a media manager/PR professional and writer, has used his impressive resources to conduct primary research, blending it with archival material to come up with an engaging story of an important cricketer. A bit more of his off-field life — something about his marriages or children, for instance, or the home whose roof he wanted to build by earning Rupees 1,75,000 — would have made it complete.