Grace was a medical doctor by profession and an amateur cricketer. With his full and flowing beard and ample figure, he could, in fitting attire and minimal make-up, have played Santa Claus in any pantomime or at a pre-Christmas sale at Harrods with perfect aplomb. Alongside of Gladstone, he was said to be the best-known Englishman of his time. By the time he called it a day, WG had, in 43 seasons of first class cricket, scored 54211 runs and taken 2809 wickets. He was thus by any definition a genuine all-rounder. It was primarily as a batsman though that he was pre-eminent. The measure of his ascendancy is underscored in a laconic comment attributed to Alfred Shaw of Nottinghamshire, a master of length bowling who bowled the first ball in test cricket: "I puts the ball where I likes and the old man he puts it where he likes". His philosophy of the game was simply, almost simplistically, explained in a characteristic observation: "I don't like defensive strokes, you can get only three runs from them".

WG's first class career began in 1865, after over-arm bowling had been legalised. He possibly reached the apogee of his phenomenal skills before the advent of test cricket. In the season of 1871 he scored 2739 runs at an average of 78.25. The person nearest to him in average was Richard Daft -- 37.66, for an aggregate of 565 runs. WG was the first to score 100 centuries in first class cricket, a feat emulated by only 23 others since then. By the time test matches started, he may have passed his high noon but was still a formidable player, scoring a century on debut. He played in an era of uncovered and under-prepared pitches, when shooters were not a rarity and protective gear less than reliable. True enough he did not have to contend with such modern refinements, contrivances or innovations as the googly, the swerve or reverse swing, but as Sir Neville Cardus once put it so aptly, genius in one set of circumstances should be equal to adaptation in a different set. As a creator of the modern game, for the sheer verve and gusto he brought to bear on it, as much as for his prodigious prowess, personality and charisma, WG has placed himself outside the pale of invidious comparison.

WG was no slouch at gamesmanship either -- whether or nor he invented it. Anecdotes abound about this aspect of his play, some of which at least must have a basis in fact. It was not unknown for him to successfully claim a catch off his own bowling, after picking up a bowl on the bounce. He was once clean bowled, first ball, but unperturbed proceeded to put the stumps and bails back in place and take guard. The thoroughly nonplussed umpire and bowler were told with authority -- and not without an element of truth -- that the vast crowd had paid good money and assembled to see him bat and should on no account be deprived.

To be sure, even WG did not always get his own way. A quicker ball once beat him and just kissed a bail, which fell to the ground. Turning nonchalantly to the umpire, WG casually observed: "Windy day, isn't it", by way of explanation for the fallen bail.

Equal to the situation, the umpire replied brightly even solicitously: "Sure is Doc, make sure it does not blow your cap away as you return to the pavilion". Yet another time after having benefitted from a few dubious umpiring decisions, he was bowled by a ball of devilish pace which uprooted two of the stumps. As he started toward the pavilion, the long suffering bowler could not resist a Parthian shot: "Why are you going Doc, one stump is still standing". The great man was not amused.

The next colossus to bestride the world of cricket was, of course, Bradman. Diminutive of form, this colossus of cricket beggared description. In 1986, a Commonwealth Eminent Persons Group headed by Malcolm Fraser of Australia and Olusegun Obasanjo of Nigeria visited South Africa and was given access to Nelson Mandela, then incarcerated and sequestered from the world in Pollsmoor Prison. Mandela's first words to Fraser, according to a senior Commonwealth official who had accompanied the Group, was: "Tell me is Don Bradman still alive?" Bradman or "the Don" was not given to gamesmanship but there was nothing of the Laodicean in him. He played a hard game but never meanly and invariably accepted, without dissent or demur, an umpire's decision.

From the time of WG to the early 1960s, English cricketers were divided into two distinct classes, amateurs or gentlemen and professionals or players. Amateurs played for pleasure and love of the game and brought to bear a sense of individuality. For the professionals, the game was their livelihood and they exemplified a more competent if also at times dour uniformity. Douglas Jardine was an amateur with a thoroughly professional approach to the game. This has been ascribed variously to the Scottishness in the man or even to the fact that he had his schooling at Winchester and not Eton. Jardine was not averse to gamesmanship -- a la WG Grace. Learie Constantine recalls in his book "Cricket in the Sun" that in the second test of the 1928 West Indies tour of England, Jardine trod on his wicket. The appeal was instinctive and the verdict a mere formality. Hurriedly Jardine interposed and expounded the law to the umpire; he had completed his stroke before treading on the stumps and was thus not out. He was given the benefit, not of doubt -- because there was none -- but, as Constantine recounts with gentle irony, of the decision.

Some other examples of gamesmanship in more recent times. In the first test at Lord's in 1971, Snow barged into Gavaskar to prevent a run. He received a one match ban as penalty. In a tour of the West Indies, Steve Waugh claimed a catch to dismiss Lara, which, re-plays showed, had not been taken cleanly. During the 1973-74 West Indies-England series, in the first test, Tony Greig ran out non-striker Kallicharan after the 'close of play'. Following off-the-field discussions and diplomacy, the appeal was withdrawn and the decision in effect reversed. Did Greig's action constitute fair play? In the second test of the 1990-91 West Indies-Australia series, Dean Jones, not hearing a no-ball call, thought he had been bowled and was walking back when Hooper fielded the ball, pulled out a stump and appealed successfully for run out. It was a bad umpiring decision but more significantly did Hooper infringe the spirit of sportsmanship by such an appeal?

Umpires unlike Popes have no claims to infallibility. Some cricketers in their memoirs have charitably commented that umpires may be good, not so good or even inept but never dishonest. Perhaps. A few cricketers have also written about less than happy experiences with 'patriotic' umpires. Television re-plays clearly and cruelly expose umpiring deficiencies nowadays. It is inevitable that umpires, like players, should occasionally err. The difference is that, unlike batsmen and bowlers, umpires do not pay for their errors, someone else or perhaps a team does. In the event of a patently poor decision, perhaps the third umpire, with the benefit of modern technology, could intervene. This should make for a more congenial playing atmosphere. It would clearly be unseemly for a player to appeal directly to the third umpire even in such cases.

The Bangladesh cricket team has recently completed its maiden tour of Pakistan. Pakistan has been the enigma of cricket; a team brimming with talent and yet so often faltering on big occasions. When on song they can compete with the best on equal terms but so often they fail to gel as a team. Pakistan also has a well-deserved reputation for the lavishness and warmth of its hospitality to foreigners, which is why it is perplexing that a few cricketers after a tour there have written uncharitably or disparagingly about their tour experiences. One English player observed that Pakistan was the place to send one's mother-in-law for an extended vacation -- mothers-in-law are all too often the butt of unkind jokes in the West. Another player claimed to have discovered the secret of the 'burkha' during a tour of Pakistan; namely to hide the homely or far from comely features of the wearer. He confided that he had bought two 'burkhas' for his mother-in-law.

The Bangladesh team had a bizarre experience when they were made to fly economy class while the home team travelled in a superior class. This cannot be explained, understood or glossed over. It goes against every notion of hospitality and high tradition in which Pakistanis take legitimate pride. If such a cavalier attitude has been manifested toward earlier touring teams, it would explain the mother-in-law jokes and also others which make these seem benign and bland. On the other hand there were the warm words of welcome and encouragement to the Bangladesh team from the President of Pakistan himself. Eric Hoffer's apothegm on prejudice is worth bearing in mind: "There is a tendency to judge a race, a nation, or a distinct group by its least worthy members".

Bangladesh's most fervid supporter did not expect a series victory, in tests or one day games. A victory in a test or one day game, however, was surely not beyond the realm of possibility and Bangladesh did come tantalizingly close to both. Why we failed has as much to do with playing skills as with mental approach. A dash of luck or the lack of it may also be added to the list of reasons. Umpiring ineptitude and a bit of gamesmanship on the part of Rashid Latif possibly cost Bangladesh an additional and crucial 20-30 runs when Kapali was wrongly given out in the last test. Latif paid a penalty, a ban from five one-day games. Indirectly he paid a higher price. His captaincy ended precipitately and his reputation may never be the same again. Latif reportedly believed that he had taken a legitimate catch; but then there are also people who believe that we inhabit a flat earth and live in a geocentric universe. Secondly it's an axiom of cricket that matches are won by bowlers and not batsmen unless they are of a superlative class. Bangladesh's main strike bowler was rested in the final test, which could have suggested that mentally we had all but conceded the match and were focusing on the one-day games that were to come. And finally Rafique by not running-out non-striker Gul, who was backing up too early, certainly displayed a generosity of spirit, but also a misplaced, almost quixotic sense of sportsmanship which let down his team.

The first time such a dismissal took place in tests was during the 2nd test of the 1947-48 Australia-India series when Vinoo Mankad ran out non-striker Bill Brown for backing-up early. The Australian captain, the redoubtable Bradman, wrote of the incident as follows: ".. in some quarters Mankad's sportsmanship was questioned. For the life of me I cannot understand why. The laws of cricket make it quite clear that the non-striker must keep within his ground until the ball has been delivered. By backing up too far or too early the non-striker is… gaining an unfair advantage. On numerous occasions he may avoid being run out at the opposite end by gaining this false start...

Mankad was an ideal type and he was so scrupulously fair that he first of all warned Brown before taking any action. There was absolutely no feeling in the matter as far as we were concerned, for we considered it quite a legitimate part of the game". What was good enough for Bradman is surely good enough for Bangladesh.

Cricket today is an ultra-professional game, to be played in a sportsmanlike fashion to be sure but without much room for chivalry or sentiment. For a team to compete credibly, let alone excel, a certain mental toughness or resilience is almost as essential as playing skills.