Dear Editor,

The bowler who is running up to the wicket with the ball in his hand is a politician. The ball is the people and the batsman who is tapping away at the crease is also a politician. The fielders who are scooping out there in the field are the bowler’s comrades as well as the wicketkeeper. The referee is also the people.

In both cases, the ball becomes the exploited servant of both teams. For when the bowler releases the ball, if the people are hit for a six, it adds more runs to enable the batsman’s team to win the game. The onus is, therefore, placed on the opposing side to use the people, which is the ball, against the batting team who occupies office.

Therefore, the political bowler tries to manipulate the direction of the ball against the batting side. So he runs up with the ball a second time, twirling the people deceptively against the team with the bat, and when the ball eventually hits those stumps in several directions, the campaign scores against the batsman who hesitantly walks away from office.

In both instances, the people are merely bondsmen and women who propel a side to victory by scoring against the opponent.

In politics the people are always at a disadvantage. For when a fielder catches the ball and tosses it triumphantly in the air, it is the opposition who celebrates as the people are caught. For the batting side to rejoice, the same ball would have to be hit into the pavilion, where, although the power may lie in the people, that ball is compliant with the manoeuvring team.

A ball suspended in mid-air can either be caught to the disappointment of the opposition or securely hit to delight of the fat lady who eventually sings. Yet, to be fair, cricket is a far more honourable game than politics, for while cricket emphasises the importance of life — skills and experiences — the other reinforces strife.

Homer Sylvester

New York

h2sylvester@gmail.com