When the novelty of astronauts on Mars begins to wear off, some time in 2020, historians will note that it took humanity 120 years to wobble into the air in a Kitty Hawk, go faster than sound, ride into space, walk on the moon and begin colonising the red planet.
Elsewhere another group of historians will recall that it took South Africa 117 years to field a black cricket captain. Let no one ever accuse our nation of being recklessly progressive.
Ashwell Prince’s elevation to the captaincy may be a century late, but better late than never. The forthcoming trip to Sri Lanka is a relatively short one (and separatist Tamil guerrillas may make it even shorter), but one coin-toss and 15 minutes at mid-off, getting a feel for the reins, is all it takes to make history.
Who today remembers the Test, or even the decade, in which a black man first led the West Indies? That it was Learie Constantine, standing in for an injured whitey, a generation before Frank Worrall made black magic in the Caribbean, is forgotten. The important part is that it happened.
The difference here, however, is that Constantine and Worrall were great players. Prince in 2006 is not. His coronation resonates with history, justice and representivity, but he is captain for only one reason: there’s nobody else who can do the job in the absence of the injured Graeme Smith. Indeed, his critics — and there are many of them — might suggest that handing him the tiller was the only way to guarantee him selection to satisfy the transformation lobbyists.
Prince is not an easy batsman to enjoy. Hunched, bow-legged, always appearing a fraction hurried, he rarely unleashes the crunching shots that please crowds, preferring to nudge and accumulate.
It is a vital skill, but one that always makes him seem as if he’s trying to knock-and-drop his way out of a slump. A weak Test average in the mid 37s, a penchant for getting out once he’s in, and the absence of a trademark shot all conspire to suggest that Prince is not, and will never be, a real Test batsman.
Of course, that’s what they said about Gary Kirsten in 1993. After 21 Tests, Kirsten’s record was virtually identical to that of Prince. Like Prince, Kirsten was awkward, a mangler of 30s and 40s, apparently unwilling or unable to push on to big hundreds.
Like Prince, Kirsten found himself in a flaky top six, as Andrew Hudson lost his way, Hansie Cronjé lost his nerve and Daryll Cullinan lost himself. All things being equal, Prince has the opportunity to play another 70 or 80 Tests. If he does, more admirable comparisons with Kirsten will no doubt be called for.
Pressure is nothing new to Prince: nine of his 21 Tests have been against Australia. And yet the captaincy is something of a hospital pass. If we lose, it will be because we were fatally hamstrung from the outset, with Smith and Jacques Kallis crocked, and Shaun Pollock and Makhaya Ntini still recovering from a murderous past season.
Prince is easy going, but not enough to use this sort of pre-emptive exoneration as a reason to loaf. He will try very hard. Still, one hopes he will find a moment now and then to enjoy his first taste of top-flight leadership. He should savour it while he can.