There is a particular anger reserved for those of us who do not merely watch cricket but live it in our bones. In Guyana and across the Caribbean, cricket was never just entertainment. It was identity. It was dignity. It was religion. It was one of the few arenas where poor boys from villages, sugar estates, and struggling homes could dream of greatness and actually achieve it.
I know this personally. Had life taken a slightly different turn, I might have pursued cricket professionally. That dream never fully left me. The game shaped me, disciplined me, and taught me lessons no classroom ever could. Which is precisely why what is happening to Shivnarine Chanderpaul disgusts me.
And let us stop pretending otherwise, because in Guyana and the Caribbean we have mastered the art of political doublespeak, favoritism, and quiet exclusion.
Shivnarine Chanderpaul is not some forgotten former player begging for relevance. He is one of the greatest batsmen the West Indies has ever produced, full stop. For years, when the rest of the batting lineup folded like cheap paper under pressure, Chanderpaul stood firm. When others crumbled, he fought. When Caribbean cricket was collapsing around him, he carried an entire region on his shoulders with little fanfare and even less appreciation.
His statistics speak loudly, but those numbers alone do not capture what he meant to West Indies cricket. This was a man who survived hostile bowling attacks, rescued hopeless innings, and displayed a level of patience, discipline, and technical understanding that younger generations desperately need today.
Yet somehow, absurdly, ridiculously, this cricketing giant finds himself marginalized while West Indies cricket continues to stumble from embarrassment to embarrassment.
So naturally, the question becomes: why?
And before the usual defenders of the system begin clutching pearls, let me say this plainly, I am not naïve.
In Guyana and much of the Caribbean, excellence alone is rarely enough. Too often, advancement depends on who you know, whose ego you massage, what political line you tow, or whether you are willing to participate in the quiet theater of incompetence disguised as administration. Merit is frequently sacrificed at the altar of connections, cliques, and small-minded power games.
We see it in politics. We see it in public service. We see it in national institutions. And increasingly, it appears we are seeing it in cricket too.
Because let us be brutally honest,if a man with Chanderpaul’s knowledge, experience, temperament, and proven excellence is not central to rebuilding West Indies batting, then either the people making these decisions are spectacularly shortsighted, hopelessly political, or deeply threatened by independent minds that cannot be controlled.
What exactly disqualifies him?
Is it competence?
Is it integrity?
Is it the fact that he never mastered the Caribbean tradition of loud self-promotion and backroom maneuvering?
Because Chanderpaul was never flashy. He was never interested in political theatrics or media performances. He simply did the work while others sought applause. He represented something increasingly rare in modern Caribbean leadership,humility combined with excellence.
And perhaps that is the real problem.
We now live in a culture where mediocrity often feels more welcome than brilliance. Quiet professionalism is overlooked while opportunists thrive. Those who genuinely know their craft are sidelined while institutions become playgrounds for bureaucracy, inflated egos, and recycled incompetence.
Since when did humility become weakness?
Since when did proven achievement count for less than political convenience?
Since when did Caribbean institutions become so comfortable rewarding loyalty over merit?
Cricket once united us. It gave the Caribbean pride when colonialism had robbed us of so much else. The great West Indies teams of the 1970s and 1980s did not merely dominate opponents, they restored dignity to a people. They showed the world that disciplined excellence from small nations could stand toe-to-toe with anyone.
Today, that legacy is being squandered.
And I say this not as an outsider throwing stones, but as someone who genuinely loves this game and what it once represented. Young boys in Guyana are still picking up bats on dusty grounds dreaming impossible dreams. They deserve proper mentorship. They deserve institutions guided by competence rather than politics. They deserve leaders who value wisdom over ego.
Shivnarine Chanderpaul gave everything to West Indies cricket.
If Caribbean cricket continues to sideline minds like his while expecting different results, then we should stop acting surprised by failure. Because when institutions repeatedly ignore excellence, decline is no accident , it becomes policy.
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