KEY POINTS:
Perhaps the most damning sight as the Black Caps strode past the West Indies on Friday was the one we didn't see - there were few, if any, kids at the ground.
No kids at the Sir Vivian Richards stadium in Antigua? There is surely some mistake. But, no, it appears to those of us on the outside that there is a long, slow death occurring in the Caribbean to contrast the shocking, tragic death of Bob Woolmer. That of West Indian cricket.
Let's make it clear at the outset - the Black Caps played very well. Their bowling, particularly Shane Bond, Jacob Oram and Daniel Vettori, was as good as it has ever been. So was the fielding.
The West Indians also committed a serious selection gaffe in omitting young fast bowler Jerome Taylor, remarkably replacing him with a lower-order batsman to stiffen their batting. In strategic terms, this is right up there with Napoleon's decision to march on Moscow.
But with all these disclaimers and explanations out of the way, what has happened to West Indian cricket? There was no crowd, no kids, little or no enthusiasm, not much talent on view and certainly none of the menace and bristling deadliness of the famed West Indian quicks - with the exception of Daren Powell.
Maybe it was all too much for the players - stacking their batting side meant they were probably hoping to hit 300 or more rather than the paltry 170-odd they managed.
That their heads went down is beyond dispute. The body language was dismal. We've given up, it said. You've won this one.
Adding to the sad irony is that one of those great bowlers, Andy Roberts, is curator at the new Sir Vivian Richards Stadium. Roberts, whose face never improved much beyond a sullen glower at the batsman, was fast and bowled a nasty line. Hitting a batsman was common and provoked no regret in Roberts.
His bouncer was a nasty, rearing thing that followed the batsman. Then he bowled a second one. The real one. Faster, nastier and of such menacing quality that the batsman knew instantly that the first had been bowled only to lull him into a false sense of security.
Little wonder Roberts recently told a reporter that: "Cricket went downhill when they restricted fast bowling with the bouncer rule. There is nothing more exciting than seeing a fast bowler tearing in and a batsman trying to straight drive, or hook him out of the ground." Or seeing him fall down with a cricket ball lodged between his ribs.
Roberts would not have lolled about the field, going through the motions as Friday's West Indians did, no matter how dire the situation.
Never mind the laws of the game, Roberts would have had the batsmen hopping, maybe even being no-balled for bowling more than the permitted number of bouncers. Just to remind them who was boss.
There was little of that kind of spirit on offer against the highly efficient Black Caps. None of the fluid grace and speed of "whispering death" Michael Holding, none of the uncanny accuracy and bounce of the giants, Joel Garner and Curtly Ambrose, none of the sheer naked pace of Malcolm Marshall.
That has been so for some time, in the fast bowling stakes anyway. But it shows just how far West Indian cricket has slid down the confidence pole that they would omit the bowler (Taylor) who comes closest to this West Indian cricketing royalty, to bolster their batting.
It's a far cry from the old philosophy of "we'll bowl them out; no, first we'll hurt them - and then we'll bowl them out."
The fall of West Indian cricket has been well-documented. The absence of stars, poor results, 'fair weather' cricketers happier to take the money than grind out the wins, haphazard administration, rising prices which have cut out many West Indians from attending games - all have all played a part.
The problems continue at this World Cup. The out of touch ICC has priced tickets sky-high and asked locals to book tickets online.
Not a chance. They turned up at some games, only to go home again when the queues were too long.
The queues inside many of the grounds have also apparently been disturbingly long - so people tend not to buy things, as they miss too much of the action.
But it was the marked absence of kids, cricket's next generation, which is really alarming.
Plenty of drunks sloshing around in the pool and the party stands, fair enough. But where were the kids, with their bats and balls and autograph-hunting eyes?
Small wonder, then, that former West Indian wicketkeeper Deryck Murray was moved to say: "I fell in love with the game after once watching Sir Frank Worrell bat live.
"It's an image that has stayed with me all these years. But I don't see any school kids at the cricket these days. How are they going to have these images and how are they going to fall in love [with the game]?"
How, indeed?
