There was a time, a few decades ago, when a triumphant Guyana cricket team would have been the talk of the country. Back then, cricket meant more than waving flags and having a good party for a few hours as the boys in the middle swing and swipe at every delivery bowled. The game evoked national pride and dignity from both player and spectator—it brought forth emotions that ran deep in the national psyche. The cricket ground was the meeting place of history, culture, politics, memory and aspirations. And so, when Guyana or the West Indies won a game, a series or a tournament, there were national thanksgiving and mass celebration—the country and region stopped to honor their ambassadors of freedom.

Yes, a victory for country and region on the cricket ground also meant freedom. It was a case of the sons of the formerly enslaved and indentured making their mark on the world stage and in the process affirming the human worth of all of us. Where the rules are fair and equal, we could show that we are second to none. Cricket was “liberation cricket” to borrow a phrase from Professor Hilary Beckles. As Martin Carter, our national poet, would have us chant—”From the Niggeryard of yesterday I come with my burden/To the world of tomorrow they turn with my strength.” Cricket was the Caribbean socio-cultural and political strength in an age of nationalism.

It is against that background that one must wonder what has changed in our Guyana and the Caribbean since that time. This past week Guyana won the regional four-day tournament for the fourth successive year—equaling the record held by Barbados and Jamaica– with hardly a whisper from the country. Leon Johnson’s boys played unbeaten throughout the tournament and in the process amassed 166.8 points—52.4 points ahead of the second-placed team, Barbados. By any account, that is an excellent performance that is worth celebrating.

But alas, the country hardly noticed the achievement. There were no blazing front page newspaper headlines, no motorcades or formal ceremonies. It is as if nothing significant occurred. Indeed, for the entire tournament the players played before empty stands. Spectators have long stopped watching first-class cricket and even test cricket has seen a drastic decline in attendance. Most spectators patronize the T20 matches which last for a few hours and are cast in the mould of instant entertainment.

In such an environment, there is hardly any pretense of patriotism. The player is not the folk-hero who carries the weight of the nation on his shoulder. Rather, he is the rock-star entertainer with little attachment to the soul of the nation. Oh, how far we have moved away from the independence dream of an integrated nation whose creative energies and intellect are put to the service of the collective!

Our heart goes out to Johnson and his young team who made us proud even in this moment of disintegration and alienation from beyond the boundary. Rohan Kanhai, Clive Lloyd, Basil Butcher, Joe Solomon, Lance Gibbs and the player-patriots of that time, long ago, who are still alive must surely be proud of the team’s performance. Roy Fredricks must be looking down with a smile on his face and saying: “Well Done, my boys.”

We still hope for the glory days to return, when we would flock to the grounds again to cheer our boys on. We still hope that a Sobers or Lara or Kanhai or Richards or Headley or Weekes would return to blast their way to the West Indian heart again. Or a Holding, Roberts, Hall, Marshall, Ambrose, Garner or Croft would glide to the wicket again with awesome pace. Or a Gibbs, Ramahdin or Valentine would mesmerize again with sheer guile from the wrist or fingers. Or a Constantine, Lloyd or Harper would hunt the ball in the field like free citizens wanting to protect their freedom. Or a Worrell, Rowe or Hooper wielding a cricket bat with beauty and grace that could only come from these special West Indian spaces. Leon Johnson’s team possessed no Kanhai, Lloyd, Kalicharran, Gibbs or Croft. But they showed grit and determination within their own limitations. For that, they deserve our recognition and thanks. We must give thanks for small mercies. Maybe, jut maybe, from this team would emerge the core of a Caribbean cricket renaissance. It is long overdue. But, for now, let us salute our winners.