Phil...

I agree, I do not know every record of yours, every match you’ve played or every bowler you have faced. I agree I don’t know you as a person, I don’t know where you played your first cricket game or what your favourite flavour of ice cream is. But, I know that deep inside, I was praying you should become alright. In fact, I was positive that you will get better, you will wake up, you will hold the cricket bat in your hands again, smile and play. Even if that means I have to wait for ten years for that moment to occur, I knew eventually you would wake up.

But you didn’t.

You were supposed to, Phillip Hughes. You were supposed to. Why didn’t you?

I don’t know why but I can’t stop the tears from pouring, I don’t know why I can’t think of anything else but the moment you fell down. I don’t know why I feel so damn bad.

Maybe it is because I have grown up watching cricket. Maybe because I have seen so many bouncers being bowled. Maybe because never once did I think that a bouncer would kill you.

You were supposed to make history. You were supposed to play on, retire and then have a life of your own. You were supposed to live. You were supposed to make it, Phil. Why didn’t you?

I don’t know you. But it hurts, hurts so bad. Maybe it is because I saw your face when the ball struck you. Maybe it is because it was in the middle of the pitch. Maybe it is because it is the place you have grown up worshipping and loving, that watching you go hurts even bad.

You were supposed to come back. You were supposed to play. You shouldn’t have gone.

I am sorry I am so selfish, but I was so sure you will make it. I am sorry for everything that happened to you.

Because, all I can do is write.