"Curtly Ambrose talks to no man"but his ball surely does

Had you been bestowed upon the opportunity to be present on April 29, 1995 at any of the stands 

of Sabina Park, you better consider yourself lucky mate. I bet you never knew what really you were going to witness other than having the thought of the Caribbean pace battery being depleted by Tugga who held no one in esteem during the course of those two days. But it was this tall 

skinny guy from some Swetes Village in the volcanic hills of Antigua who preyed on the Ice man’s mind. 

He didn’t utter a single word as he had this stoic demeanor on the field and he 

always remained taciturn and morose during the “Clash of the Titans” a couple of days ago at the Queen’s park fray but the maroon Duke (which seemed to Steve Waugh like no less than a 

Tomahawk) screamed noisily in the depth of the silent woods of the rift on that abrasive surface; 

so wondrous was the fury and energy of that trusted Weapon. Seeing him ravage the Aussie 

batting lineup was a sight for sore eyes. Everyone’s, yes, everyone’s ears were consecutively 

being clanged with the regularly collapsing stumps as he made the Queens Park Oval jump on its feet

He was indubitably one of the finest West Indian fast bowlers whose bowling was characterized 

with highest level of accuracy with regard to line and length accompanied by both pace and 

aggression. When he was in the zone, it was better to surrender than cop a few bruises. He was the perfect successor to the notorious West Indian quartet of fast bowlers who gave the Men in 

Maroon flying colors. . Out of all the fast bowling crop coming out the Caribbean, Malcolm 

“The Lucky Macko” Marshall and Ambrose tower above the likes of Andy Roberts, Colin Croft,

Patrick Patterson, Courtney Walsh, Joel Garner and company. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to proclaim that he was the most prized possession of that valuable four-pronged pace attack. Who can forget the execution of that fierce spell of terror and barbarism at the WACA which was characterized with those nerve-racking bouncers whiffing past the nose clicking 150 km/h 

ultimately shoving Australia off the Perth trampoline with seven wickets for one run in 32 balls. 

Man, Thomas Harris would certainly be having qualms while setting apart Curtly Ambrose (on the field) and his own brainchild, Hannibal Lecter. He produced magic on a placid Sharjah pitch 

during his figures of 10-5-5-1 which epitomizes his relentlessness, hostility, precision and aggression.

His competitive warrior spirit, unflinching perseverance, dogged determination, relentless 

energy, indomitable resistance and sheer force of will tested and tormented the batsmen. He couldn’t afford to see the ball crossing the boundary. Beg your pardon late Deano but asking the Big Bird to remove his wristbands was nothing more than a dolt mistake. However good a batsman you are, you never wind up Ambrose. He never took it on the chin; he always caught it 

and sent it back with more venom. If you ever hit him for a boundary, his facial reaction would make you feel like he’s coming in for murder. He spewed fire with the cricket ball with a huge run up, meaning action and frightening frame which made the batsmen's blood run cold.

 His long controlled run up with long steps didn’t give the batsmen time to judge the delivery. He ran and 

ran and ran like Forrest Gump

Describing him is possibly one of the toughest challenges for anyone. You can write about the feral aggression in every made-to-look-easy footstep of the 6′ 7″ guy from Antigua as he galloped like a Black Mustang in the Highlands; or the mean, hostile look that would send 

shivers down the spine of the bravest of warriors; or the immaculate configuration of the torso 

just before the ball was released; or the antagonistic pace, the fuming bounce, and the relentless accuracy.

 Curtly’s deliveries were always absolutely dead on target as he had the ability to hit the same spot again and again. What more can you ask of Curtly Ambrose if ever you’ve got yourself a crisis.

 Send for Curtly and boom, the crisis is the thing of the past.

He wreaked havoc on the British envoys during the 1993 mission (impossible) to conquer the Caribbean bastion. All hopes of the English officials to emulate the proceedings and results of the Battle of Saintes were crumbled by this guy Ambrose who unleashed carnage upon them by 

cutting a wide swathe through the English platoon of Matildas and Valentines who succumbed to 

his ferocious yorkers. Curtly shattering the citadel of Robin Smith’s stumps was a treat to watch. 

It was a common sight then English batsmen struggling to make contact with the Dukes as they 

were in complete disarray. English batsmen saw a great deal of Ambrose's hand-jiving wicket celebration, which set his white wristbands flashing like doves taking to the sky.

 He soared through the English sky like the Luftwaffe did quite decades ago. 

His exploits with the ball are a thing to remember. He had the batsmen jumping up 6 feet in the air to keep the ball down. Watching from the 3rd man boundary, the ball when released had the illusion that it was coming to your own head like a Peregrine falcon darting at a Grebes. 

His nasty bouncers spit sting at the batsmen. His aghast face instilled terror into the striker as it felt like he went inside the batsman’s head. When his extreme pace deserted him, he fell back on subtle seam movement and an immaculately grooved action. The man known was Curtly 

Ambrose could do no wrong. If it was anyone’s day, it certainly was his day. Curtly was for surea house hold name. He was tall, fast, intimidating, devastating and last but not a least, a sanguine seamer.

                              By Zohaib Asif