And we go on!
#4
Fourteen Votes
Glenn Donald McGrath was the most dominant bowler I have ever seen and that would be lost on those who didn't witness his career in real time. The subtle violence in the shrug of the shoulder while walking along his runup, angry words muttered in contempt, piercing stares and cold fury - all indicative of the algorithm upstairs planning the undoing of the willow wielder involved. The joy he received from success, too, was proportional and on full grinning display.
McGrath was la grande minimalist. His repertoire of tricks kept expanding until he was the master of movements all - swing, seam, and reverse. The pitch was often taken out of the equation by his lethal combination of height, movement, accuracy, and determination.
Through the years, he made it seem like a minor miracle when a side got through Oz's opening spell without losing a wicket. He knew which schmuck to lure into a drive, who was unsure about his off stump, whose bat and pad contained a hollow to jag in through, and so forth. He was the most important name on a teamsheet brimming with the talents of Ponting, Warne, Waugh, and Gilchrist.
His biggest accomplishment was making it all about the process, all about the battle, bringing a moneyball nous to the iterated game that is a bowler versus a batsman. He outskilled Tendulkar, outfoxed Dravid, and outzenned Kallis. He was the antithesis to the genius of Lara and theirs was the premier battle of the time.
I could go on and on and on about McGrath, the deliverer of doom, who induced in the opposition fans a fear layered with anxiety and helplessness. It was a justified emotion, borne of experience and trauma. The only reason he is at #4 is because of a career split by the turn of the century.
I will end with a snapshot of his smiling face after scoring his first and only test match fifty, possibly his favourite cricketing moment.