“Does life get any better than this?” Australian fan at Queen’s Park Oval 2003.

“The fans love West Indies cricket. They love the West Indies way of life. They see on television how West Indians enjoy themselves and they will be coming to be part of it.” Chris Dehring, CEO Cricket World Cup 2007

Not having visited every country on the planet I can’t say for sure that West Indians are the most exuberant people on earth. But it’s certainly hard to conceive of a more tolerant and fun loving society. We may not lead the world in GDP, but for all our obvious problems nowhere surpasses us in GLP, i.e. gross laughter product. Which other people laugh as much or as easily? What other culture can compare in everyday joi de vivre?

I’ve often marveled at Jamaicans’ ability not only to enjoy themselves but to draw onlookers into their orbit of pleasure. Take for instance the electrifying atmosphere at last year’s junior world games and this April’s boys and girls’ champs. Or the ecstatic exhilaration of last October’s Half Way Tree party rallies. This innate gift for investing life with enthusiasm and joy is something inhabitants of this country naturally take for granted. But it makes existence abroad – safer and more economically advantageous though it often is - invariably seem a pale shadow of life ‘a yard’.

Would I have been happier if born elsewhere, say in Brazil or Italy or South Africa or America? Pointless as it is, since we have only one life experience, I’ve often pondered this question. And when I look around the world and consider the pros and cons and feel the sheer pleasure Jamaicans take in simply being alive, I’ve always considered myself lucky to have been born in this country.

I’d probably feel the same way were I a native of Port of Spain or Bridgetown or Kingstown. For Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Barbadians and Antiguans are as West Indian as New Yorkers, Californians or Texans are American. Though nominally different countries, we are all part and parcel of the same unique mixture of British order and African exuberance spiced with dashes of Indian, Chinese and Arab. We may be separated geographically, but the English speaking Caribbean is unquestionably a cultural nation.

The inimitable West Indian approach to life is of course most vividly expressed at test cricket, which is here not merely a game but a gloriously uninhibited theatre of passion, laughter and national pride. This is the expansive good nature of the Caribbean at its best, with all visitors being instinctively welcomed as guests invited to share in the fun. Tears may be shed when the Windies lose. But except for the occasional self-inflicted bout of alcohol poisoning, no visiting fans ever fear for their safety.

Even the slow moments add to the magic of Caribbean cricket, for these build the musical mood and extend the animated conversations. This chance to savour the moment sets cricket apart from other sports. For ceaseless up and down games like basketball quickly pall to a grown up mind, as every play no matter how thrilling runs into the next and is instantly forgotten - and with them the entire game as soon as it’s over.

Cricket’s measured tempo not only allows every beautiful stroke to be fully discussed, dissected and digested, but invites almost conscious participation as great innings and matches unfold ball by ball. This is why West Indians still recall Brisbane in 1960, Lord’s in 1963, Adelaide in 1993, Sabina and Kensington in 1999. And will in future times talk of Antigua in 2003.

And here is a fascinating dichotomy. For while one day matches draw the crowds and make the money, it’s test matches that determine series victory or defeat and which echo in time. If administrators allow the usually exciting but immediately forgotten one dayers to overwhelm the often boring but at times unforgettable tests, cricket will no longer be cricket.

Now I do sometimes find myself agreeing with those who dismiss athletes as children of a larger kind with overdeveloped muscles and underdeveloped minds. Yet while watching Brian Lara’s 122 at Queen’s Park in April it dawned on me that in no other theatre of life would I ever see such a real time combination of artistic excellence, physical courage and mental fortitude. As Lara elegantly caressed MacGill’s twisting spin and parried Lee’s 100 mile an hour missiles while battling almost singlehandedly to save the match, I had to sneer “You couldn’t even dream of doing that!” at the bookish dismisser within. For here was a modern real life ‘brave Horatio, the captain of the gate’! The term ‘champion warrior artist’ came to mind. Would it make sense in any other arena?

Few if any athletes have ever been so emotionally burdened as Lara over the past 5 years or so. Many have striven to rescue their side or make their country proud, but who else has been charged by fate with the task of literally keeping alive a sport which is the lifeblood of his people? Yet time and again he has responded, most memorably in his 213 at Sabina in 1999.

After the 5 love massacre in South Africa and the 52 all out at Port of Spain there was a growing conviction that we could no longer compete. At 37-4 on Saturday evening the gloom was almost palpable. And as the players walked out on Sunday morning another humiliation seemed certain, a final straw that would finally break the cricketing public’s heart for good. But blessed by the gods – he was dropped at 44 - Lara produced what the London Times called “arguably the most important innings in the history of the game” and saved West Indies cricket.

Since that crucial hour a promising cast of youngsters have revived the spirit, and public support for Caribbean cricket is probably as strong today as it has ever been.

Yet had Brian Lara failed that day there is a strong possibility that all confidence would have been lost and that West Indian interest in cricket would have died. And what would that have meant to our way of life? Could our culture survive cricket’s demise? changkob@hotmail.com