the intent of this ...

i guess is to wax eloquent about Shivvys fantastic patience while batting and his wristy Warne-like leg spin...

A really really long time in the past,
when a young man name Shiv, from a high Bengali caste,
set his eyes on a gentleman's sport called cricket,
He said this is wicked,
A slow, lazy sport at long last!

So he picked up new gloves, pads and a bat,
His coach taught him to play back to the bowler with a pat,
But being a hot blooded Bong boy,
He looked at the ball as a toy,
And opted to whack it over the ropes and say... like that!

And then he committed a big sin,
One fine day, he picked a ball and said i'll spin,
He gave it a little tweak,
The turn was so very weak,
That the captain put his bowling in the bin.

So here's to you my dear friend Shiv,
I hope you will, this poem forgive,
'Cause you know I just finished what you started,
And left incomplete and departed,
So my message to you is - Live and let live!! :)