The dream of every youngster who plays sport is to play it at the highest level, especially on the international stage.
They are very often encouraged, trained and pushed to do so from a young age by parents and coaches alike.
Sadly, however, many such stories are not the fairy tales that are desired but actually horror stories that are feared; the dreams turn to nightmares.
One boy in Zimbabwe grew up with an enjoyment of all sport.
He went to a school where sport was taken seriously, and he was able to practise and participate in many sports, representing the school in cricket, hockey, soccer, rugby, athletics and tennis.
The sporting journey continued when he went to senior school where he excelled in particular at hockey as a prolific striker and cricket as a fast bowler, representing his province and Zimbabwe in both sports at age group levels for three years all around the world.
He was one of only four Zimbabweans selected to play for an ICC Associates XI at the 1988 Youth World Cup held in Australia.
The sporting world was his oyster.
Indeed, it got even better. A month after leaving school he was selected to play for Zimbabwe B against England A, with both games being creditable draws.
He was selected for the national squad that went to the Netherlands in the ICC tournament which Zimbabwe won to qualify for the World Cup.
There he was, nineteen years old, ready to be the first black player to step into the national cricket team, living and practising with great Zimbabwean cricket stalwarts – the stuff of dreams!
Five years later, he had retired, aged twenty-four, his dreams dashed.
What went wrong? Why did it end like that? In one of the warm-up matches in England before the ICC Tournament he injured his knee, and although he went to the Netherlands for the tournament he did not play a match.
The injury forced him to change his bowling action but this in turn only put greater pressure on his back, the end result being that he eventually had to give up bowling. Sport can be cruel and painful, sure, but that was not the whole story.
We might consider the coaching that he received. He was an excellent fast bowler in a very strong school team, so strong in the batting department that he literally did not bat in a match for three years.
When his back injuries forced him to stop bowling, he was promoted as an opening batsman at provincial level but having never had the opportunity previously to develop his batting in matches he struggled to contribute there. He had not been prepared well.
We might also look at the treatment he received with regard to his injury.
Everyone knew about his injury and the effect it was having on his bowling but no-one really came to his assistance.
A youngster turning twenty years old was having to change his bowling action (and speed) yet without real support, encouragement or expertise. The dream was fading.
We might well reflect that he was pushed too quickly too soon, or, put in another way, the transition from schoolboy to men’s cricket was not carefully considered.
He found the experience of going from playing with his mates with whom he had grown up on a daily basis to playing and touring with older strangers to be so difficult.
More significantly he points out that he came from a sheltered, protected environment at school into a free and open world.
His life was like the words of a Joni Mitchell hit song: “Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I’ve looked at life that way.… I’ve looked at life from both sides now,
From win and lose and still somehow It’s life’s illusions I recall. I really don’t know life at all”.
We really do not know sport at all. He has looked at it from both sides now, from playing and supporting, from success and failure, and all that remains is an illusion.
In the words of an Elton John song, “It’s sad, so sad; it’s a sad, sad situation, and it’s getting more and more absurd. It’s sad, so sad. Why can’t we talk it over?”
The man in question is not bitter about what happened yet he remains unimpressed.
Zimbabwe is a sporting nation with talented players and yet in many areas we have lost our way and caused many dreams to be shattered.
How many more dreams will be shattered before we do it right?
What have we got to do to make people hear, to make people care? Why can’t we talk it over?
