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The joy of watching Mohammad Azharuddin | CricketSoccer
"Azhar the genius always had feet of clay, be it while batting on pacy wickets or while negotiating the temptations of the peripheral vices of cricket". Every movement was laced with magic. The feet did not rest on the crease as he awaited the ball. They seemed planted on a coil of spring, balancing the lithe figure that bubbled with unbridled energy, almost about to launch into mid-air. The bat would be cocked up, ready to flash with that wondrous wizardry. The tongue often mischievously poked out through the corner of the mouth. When the bat came down in those arcs of genius, the wrists guiding the willow in directions beyond the stretches of mortal imagination, the body flowed into the stroke with that energy of mechanics and spirit of art … and the ball streaked to corners of green that left every onlooker, from the riveted spectators to the confused bowler to the futilely pursuing fieldsman, in a state of puzzlement. All but the man himself, who flashed between the wickets, the