3rd Greatest 19 century cricketer

[sayon basak]

CB Fry is a must in any team if we're considering all areas including social.

I didn't realize c.b fry scored more than 30k runs at the average of 50. Never really heard anyone hold him in such high regard.

 

[number11]

I didn't realize c.b fry scored more than 30k runs at the average of 50. Never really heard anyone hold him in such high regard.

I emphasize the social skills.

 

[sayon basak]

Who do you think is the 3rd Greatest cricketer of the 19th century after WG Grace and George Lohmann?

Nice.

 

[Johan]

Nice.

WG Grace, Ranjitsinhhi and Spofforth

 

[sayon basak]

WG Grace, Ranjitsinhhi and Spofforth

Who will be the 4th one? (and I counted Ranji in the 20th century)

It's surely Alfred Mynn. He's a God.

 

[Johan]

Who will be the 4th one? (and I counted Ranji in the 20th century)

It's surely Alfred Mynn. He's a God.

"I must see another man who stands six-foot two, of gigantic but symmetrical figure, standing up his full height, taking six stately steps to the wicket, and bringing his arm round well below the shoulder, and sending the ball down like a flash of lightning dead on the wicket, before I can ever believe there is or has been a greater cricketer than Alfred Mynn".

 

[sayon basak]

"I must see another man who stands six-foot two, of gigantic but symmetrical figure, standing up his full height, taking six stately steps to the wicket, and bringing his arm round well below the shoulder, and sending the ball down like a flash of lightning dead on the wicket, before I can ever believe there is or has been a greater cricketer than Alfred Mynn".

With his tall and stately presence, with his nobly moulded form,
His broad hand was ever open, his brave heart was ever warm;
All were proud of him, all loved him. As the changing seasons pass,
As our champion lies a-sleeping underneath the Kentish grass,
Proudly, sadly will we name him – to forget him were a sin.
Lightly lie the turf upon thee, kind and manly Alfred Mynn!

 

[sayon basak]

With his tall and stately presence, with his nobly moulded form,
His broad hand was ever open, his brave heart was ever warm;
All were proud of him, all loved him. As the changing seasons pass,
As our champion lies a-sleeping underneath the Kentish grass,
Proudly, sadly will we name him – to forget him were a sin.
Lightly lie the turf upon thee, kind and manly Alfred Mynn!

Guess this'll be my most favorite poem.

 

[Prince EWS]

Guess this'll be my most favorite poem.

In the land of cricket, where legends reside,
Stands Joel 'Big Bird' Garner, tall with pride.
His stature on the pitch, a sight to behold,
But his batting, a story yet rarely told.

With bat in hand, he strides to the crease,
Not known for his runs, but for pure peace.
A gentle giant, his presence so vast,
Each delivery faced, with moments amassed.

His technique, unorthodox, yet somehow sound,
A swing of the bat, the ball might be found.
Not for the elegance, nor for the grace,
But for the sheer surprise, etched on each face.

When Garner connects, the crowd holds its breath,
A boundary or two, defying his death.
His batting, like thunder, rare but so loud,
A testament to his spirit, unbowed, unavowed.

He wasn't there for the long, leisurely stay,
But each ball he faced, he'd make his play.
A tailender's dream, in moments so bright,
Joel Garner's batting, a rare, sweet delight.

So here's to Big Bird, whose every bat's swing,
Reminds us that cricket's about more than just king.
It's in those small moments, those unexpected plays,
That Garner's legacy, in batting, forever stays.