God and Brian Lara
published: Monday | January 6, 2003

Tony Deyal

IT IS easy to believe that God is a convicted felon because so many people find him in jail. However, the fact that they find him at all is more important than where they found him. Sometimes, early in the morning, as I contemplate the day, I find him hard to understand.

In times like this I resort to prayer. My prayer goes like this, "Dear Lord, so far today I've done all right, pretty good in fact. I haven't gossiped. I have not lost my temper. I definitely have refrained from being greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish, or overindulgent. I have not said unkind things about anyone, or done any deed of which I am ashamed. But in a few minutes, Lord, I'm going to get out of bed, and from then on I'm probably going to need a lot more help. Amen."

This is almost as powerful as the Serenity Prayer which goes, "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference." However, as I get older, I favour the Senility Prayer as more suited to my mindset, "God, grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked anyway; the good fortune to run into the ones I do and the eyesight to tell the difference."

I tend not to carry any emotional baggage with me and believe that you cannot change the past. Some people are different. Adam, for instance, had no right to tell the children, Cain and Abel, when they passed the Garden of Eden, "Boys, that is where your mother ate us out of house and home."

I am not an atheist or someone defined as "having no invisible means of support." However, I have occasionally wondered and wandered on the borders of agnosticism until something traumatic comes along and shakes me into wakefulness. It is like the story of an atheist who was spending a quiet day in Scotland fishing when suddenly his boat was attacked by the Loch Ness monster. The beast tossed him and his boat high into the air. Then it opened its mouth to swallow him. The poor man cried out, "Oh, God! Please help me!"

Time stood suddenly still and the scene froze in place with the atheist hanging in mid-air. Then came a booming voice from high in the clouds, "I thought you
didn't believe in me?" "Yes, sir," the frightened man stammered, "but two minutes ago I didn't believe in the Loch Ness monster either."

My friend Ryad believes that I am destined for heaven. He says that I am more valuable to God than most religious people. He explained that while preachers put people to sleep, my driving causes them to pray. My goal is to try to be the kind of person my two infant children think I am. Children are much more discerning than they are given credit for. Some letters written by children to God include, "Dear God, maybe Cain and Abel would not have killed each other so much if they had their own rooms. That's what my Mom did for me and my brother", and "Dear God, I bet it is very hard for you to love all of everybody in the whole world. There are only four people in our family and I'm having a hard time loving all of them."

My present family of four includes four-year old Zubin who, in addition to being sure about his love for us and for God, is certain about a few other important facts of life. He says, "Tiger Woods is the best golfer in the world. Michael Jordan is the best basket-baller and Brian Lara is the best cricketer in the world."

As I sit at my computer, on my immediate left, placed there by my Guyanese wife, is a limited-edition plaque I created myself from a Reader's Digest article in the British edition of the Digest of August 1995. Captioned, "Brian Lara Hits the World for six" the article uses a quote from me. "It has been said of Trinidad and Tobago that it is a country that respects nobody," said Tony Deyal, an eminent West Indian journalist. "It does not honour its prophets and is hell on its heroes. In the days which followed Lara's return, it was evident that he'd had a profound impact on his people and taken his country into a new era in which achievement was elevated and elevating."

A few minutes ago, I called Brian Lara asking to interview him for the readers of my column in Barbados, Guyana, Jamaica, Trinidad and throughout the world where West Indians access the column on the Internet. His tone was neither warm nor welcoming. He coldly informed me that he would have to speak to "his people" about my request and if he wanted to say anything he would call a news-conference. I am neither angry nor hurt. I still strongly support my son in his belief that Lara is the best cricketer in the world. Brian's talent is God-given and while his behaviour and, perhaps, character, are not consistent with his class as a batsman, I cannot change who he is. I can only deal with who I am and what I stand for.

One of the things I believe is that God is West Indian. There is a story about Don Bradman. He went up to Heaven and God came to him personally and took him to a little house surrounded by baggy-green Australian caps, flags and bunting. "This is unusual for me to give anyone a house in Heaven," God said. "But I love cricket and I had to recognise your contribution." Bradman looked around and saw an enormous mansion, high on a hill, bedecked in West Indian colours, with crimson-clad angels playing Rudder's "Rally Round the West Indies" on golden harps. Bradman said with typical Australian brashness, "I didn't know that the Reverend Wes Hall had died. Still, why does he rate a bigger house than me?" "Hall is still alive," God intoned. "And that is my house."

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