Sir  Learie  Constantine

At Eden the other day when Carlos Brathwaite was plundering the England attack with those towering sixes, one could see the ghost of Learie Constantine hovering around him.The power and precision-timing of Brathwaite’s bat merely exemplified the spirit of the man who was among the first to entertain the cricket world with incredible and uninhibited stroke-play.

At the turn of the 19^th century, WG Grace had laid the foundation of classical cricket technique. Ranji had revealed the artistry of the Orient with his wrist-work. Trumper had shown the fearlessness of youth. Jack Hobbs his technical perfection under all conditions, even on the ‘stickiest’ of pitches. But with the arrival of Constantine from the Caribbean a novel dimension was added to the repertoire of cricket: entertaining cricket without a bother for the morrow.

The West Indies squad for the world T20 championship seemed to reflect the varied charms of the master entertainer, Learie Constantine. Gayle’s big-hitting with gay abandon, Russel’s boundless energy, Bravo’s variety in bowling, Samuel’s cool planning, skipper Sammy’s perpetual smile were all reminiscent of the man. Constantine represented not a region, but a race. He represented not an era but an aeon that went beyond a century. Constantine’s charisma has rubbed off on his cricketing grand-children and great-grand-children.

His ebony complexion and curly hair reflected the soul of his land. Life was short and was to be enjoyed. Live life to the full: sports and spirits; dance and drums. Enjoyment and entertainment are to complement each other. The spontaneous effort was all that mattered. The outcome, even if successful, was totally secondary to the creative urge. The result was less important than the means. Constantine took his front-foot wide outside the off-stump and swatted the ball over the mid-wicket fence! Sacrilegious in the 1920s. The coach shouted, “Look where your feet are.” A broad grin emerged, “Sir, look at the ball, forget the feet.”

He was indeed a revolutionary in the ethos of the time. The contemporary Englishmen depended on well-tested conventional techniques and strategies. The South Africans were in the Brit mould. The Aussies were a little different. They relied on orthodox ideas but were distinctly more aggressive. But with the arrival of the coloured West Indian, the whole perspective of cricket underwent a radical change. The transformation was the signature tune of Learie Constantine.

When not swatting the ball, he would hurl thunderbolts at the batters and laugh at the latter’s discomfiture. If the batter was a dear friend, then he would get more bouncers and guffaws from his friend ‘Conny’. Once, Wally Hammond had a taste of the chilling fury of his close pal. A well-directed, menacing bouncer split open Hammond’s chin, the mark of which was to last a lifetime.

Constantine had the uncanny habit of sweeping the ball behind the wicket-keeper. If it took his fancy he would bowl spin off a long run-up or bowl pace from a few strides. For providing unalloyed excitement, Learie Constantine had very few parallels. Sir Don rated him to be the most enterprising of cricketers.

Learie Constantine is dead and buried. Long gone into the sands of time. But the spirit of the radical lives on. Every Caribbean cricketer is born with a big enough drop of Constantine’s blood. The crimson with an electric hue.

Physical power he possessed in abundance. The lithe elastic body carried a bundle of energy. Seemed to be in a state of perpetual motion. Even after the end of the run-up, Constantine would scamper to field the ball wherever it was. With every movement, he appeared to be accumulating energy. Once Constantine actually caught Andy Sandham off his own bowling when the defensive prod had popped the ball just about three yards down the pitch!

 Muscular yet supremely supple, he released the ball at fearsome pace yet never lost his cool. Highly respected not only for his brilliant mind, but more so for his magnanimous nature. No opponent has ever been so revered, except perhaps his own protégés like Frank Worrell and Gary Sobers.

Although the Trinidadian was ever ready to laugh at his own follies and failures, he was till the last day a rebel in approach. This was the difference between him and the other great pioneers of the game. Constantine would never seek self-glory or self-publicity. Would never disrespect others. Would be the first to stick his neck out, especially on race-relations and other social issues. Learie Constantine completed his bar-at law and later became the high commissioner of Trinidad in Britain. An exemplary role model from all angles. Unfortunately today in the world of cheap publicity, his happens to be a long-forgotten name.

Cricket-wise he came under the guidance of English coaches as a youngster in Trinidad. But he went far beyond conventional thinking and classical techniques. He adapted the game to his genes. A very high back-lift and a complete follow-through of the bat between the shoulder blades. Jumped out, even to pace bowlers, to lift the ball high, wide and handsome.

Between the wickets no leopard could out-run the born athlete. He was without a trace of doubt the best fielder of his generation and beyond. From 75 yards his unerring throw would be on top of the bails. Incredible catches he took through sheer athleticism.

The typical West Indies mould developed with the arrival of Constantine. He was a child of nature. Gave full vent to his feelings. No inhibitions, no anxiety, no theory ever bothered him. Today’s West Indies cricketers follow the pattern set by him in 1920s. It is in their genes. The spirit of adventure is what sets the West Indies cricketers apart from all others. They are spontaneous, highly spirited, fun loving, born entertainers.

Constantine is still rated to be the best-ever performer in the Lancashire Leagues, the precursor to the over-limit format. Not only because he was very successful but because his presence would guarantee entertainment for the spectators. His sole intent was for the benefit of the audience.

Following his tenets, West Indians in the following generations have proved themselves to be among the most prominent entertainers. Time and again they dominated the world cricket scenario, particularly in the 1970s and 1980s, but their real appeal lay in their entertainment value in all formats of the game.

West Indies cricket has suffered for over the last two decades for various reasons. Now with the new-found successes – men’s team, women’s team and u19 team – it may appear that a turnaround is just round the corner. Whether West Indies as a team is successful or not, there is no semblance of doubt that individually the Caribbean cricketers are still the most entertaining and exciting of all.

The West Indies team may not be able to replicate its earlier successes but the entertainment value of the Caribbean cricketer will never falter. The spirit of Constantine is still in full flow in their veins. The charisma of Sir Learie Constantine (knighted in 1962) has gone beyond boundaries, has traversed a century. He stands supreme among the great entertainers of the cricketing pantheon. Sir Learie is the fount from which spring the enterprise, the excitement and the entertainment value of the Caribbean cricketers.


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 On Dhirubhai Ambani’s patriotism in the cause of cricket

Dhirubhai Ambani has just been posthumously honoured by the Government of India with the coveted award of Padma Vibhushan for his unparalleled contribution to the Indian industrial environment. The sheer magnitude of Dhirubhai’s achievement in the industrial sector has dwarfed many of his other stupendous work in the interest of Indian society. One of his magnificent achievements is in the arena of cricket. Sadly the issue has never been highlighted in our country. His yeoman contribution to cricket has never been acknowledged and recognized.

Dhirubhai Ambani happens to be among the eminent pioneers who gave cricket in India a new and novel dimension. He exemplified the spirit of patriotism in no uncertain manner on a monsoon morn in Mumbai way back in1983. He picked up the phone receiver and gave his assent as the voice from the prime minister’s office informed him to meet the prime minister within a couple of days.

The visionary industrialist did not have a single query. Nor did he want to know the reason for the urgency. Dhirubhai wasted no time. Next day he was at Mrs Indira Gandhi’s chamber at 10 Janpath in New Delhi to keep his appointment as desired by the prime minister herself.

NKP Salve, the president of the Board of Control for Cricket in India, was also asked by the PMO to be present in the room at the appointed hour. Salve happened to be a cabinet minister at the time and was very highly rated for his integrity as a lawyer as well as a politician.

Prime minister Mrs Gandhi kept the usual pleasantries short, as was her style, and went straight into the principal issue. She asked Dhirubhai whether the latter would be keen to sponsor a world cricket championship on Indian soil. Dhirubhai Ambani, God bless him, did not hesitate for a moment. Instantly he realized that the image and prestige of his nation was at stake. He nodded and uttered, “Madam, yes, I would be too happy to give a blank cheque to cover the entire cost of the tournament since it is for a national cause.”

He did not betray any emotion. He asked no questions. He sought no clarifications. The grand ol’ man immediately grasped that the money was to be spent to uphold India’s honour. For him that was enough reason. He offered a blank cheque. Yes, that was Dhirubhai Ambani. This is a glorious example of how politicians and industrialists can come forward for the cause of the country through the popular medium of sports.

But we are going ahead of the actual story. The story begins at Lord’s. June 25, 1983 to be precise. India had reached the Prudential World Cup final against all odds. “Kapil’s Devils” were to play the defending champions, the rampaging West Indies at the Lord’s.

A few days prior to the final, just after India had defeated the hosts England in the semi-final, the BCCI president NKP Salve requested the authorities at the Lord’s for 2 tickets for the final. The tickets were requested for Siddhartha Shankar Ray and his wife Maya. SS Ray, a former Calcutta University Cricket Blue, was at the time the Indian High Commissioner to USA.

Surprisingly the authorities at the Lord’s turned down the request of the BCCI president. Even priced tickets were not made available. For Salve, the epitome of gentlemanliness, this was an embarrassing scenario. The president of one of the finalist teams could not offer just two tickets to an Indian ambassador. NKP Salve, man of high integrity and self-respect, decided there and then that he would not take this insult to his country lying down.

When India won the coveted trophy, the president of BCCI NKP Salve lost no time and brought the winning team over to New Delhi from Heathrow to meet the prime minister. After the reception was over, Salve made a beeline for Mrs Gandhi and told her of the humiliation that he had to face in London over those two tickets.

Mrs Gandhi asked Salve what he had contemplated to avenge the insult. Salve, the outstanding lawyer and clever politician, had a mind of his own. He devised that he would try to get the world cup out of the clutches of England who had monopolized hosting quadrennial tournament since 1975.

Within the course of the next few months the BCCI was keeping themselves prepared to take on the challenges of the major cricketing powers of the time, England and Australia. It was decided that at the next meeting of the ICC, where the dates of the following world cup in England would be decided, the BCCI would offer double the guarantee money to all the participating teams. On the day of the meeting at Lord’s, true to form, the plan was executed to perfection.

At the ICC meeting held at the Lord’s to confirm England as host, the eloquence of NKP Salve had the influential lobbies scurrying for cover. In a magnanimous gesture, the BCCI president doubled the guarantee money if the tournament was held in India and then, for good measure, made some more concessions for the benefit of the players and their families. All reservations about playing the world cup on Indian soil evaporated into thin air in next to no time.

 The ultimate decision of the meeting heralded that the 1987 edition of the world cup would be held in India. In another master-stroke of diplomacy, the statesman in NKP Salve asked Pakistan to be a co-host. The 1987 world cup was the first world cup in cricket to vanquish the monopoly of England as the permanent venue. Since then the world cup championship keeps moving around the globe by rotation as it should be in a democratic scenario.

The spirit displayed by Dhirubhai Ambani, NKP Salve and Mrs Gandhi has been forgotten in this land of ours. They showed the way how politicians, professionals and industrialists can help to shape the world through the medium of sports.

But the juggernaut, massive and strong, was too good to last. Mrs Gandhi was assassinated in October 1984. The country was in turmoil. The world cup was only of secondary importance. Obviously enough, there were far more important jobs awaiting attention.

But Salve had other ideas. He approached Dhirubhai to find out if he was still willing to sponsor the world cup. Salve’s apprehension can well be imagined. Indira Gandhi was no more. The nation was staring at a crisis after a crisis. But the industrialist from Mumbai said, “Nothing doing, the show must go on. I will not go back on my word.” As promised, the blank cheque from Dhirubhai Ambani remained with BCCI’s Salve.

Rajiv Gandhi took over from his late mother. Salve kept his unwavering focus. On his part, the patriot Dhirubhai, who had no interest in sports, sent his younger son Anil to get involved with the staging of the world cup. In one grand gesture of magnanimity, Anil Ambani had all the cricket boards salivating.

Anil offered complimentary hospitality to all the office bearers of the respective cricket boards. This was purposely done just to add salt to England’s wound. People who had denied India just two tickets were granted full hospitality throughout the course of the championship! It was an exemplary Gandhian master-stroke by the Reliance owner.

 The trio –Salve, Ambani and Gandhi – was magnificent in handling the global event. The Reliance Cup was an outstanding success in terms of media coverage, sponsorship and crowd participation. Just goes to show that with the right people in right places, India can move the world. Dhirubhai Ambani deserves our salute for his superlative, patriotic gesture.

                          

              

               

              

              

              

              

              

  Syed Mushtaq Ali           

The first time I saw Syed Mushtaq Ali was at the Eden Gardens in the “Defence Fund Match”, which was held following the India-China war in 1962. At the time in the early 1960s, Mushtaq Ali was nearing 50 and most certainly was out of cricket for more than a decade.

In our childhood days, I had heard of Mushtaq Ali’s magnificent exploits from my father and uncle Tarun, who used to play club cricket in Calcutta. They would mention how he would step out of his crease to even fast bowlers and glance or cut with ease. That was supposed to be his trademark stroke.

To be honest, it was difficult to believe that such a stroke was possible. Why should a batsman step out to a fast bowler? And even if he did, why would he do so to glance or cut the ball?  It just did not make sense. It sounded incredible. I used to think that since my father and uncle belonged to Mushtaq Ali’s generation, they were merely exaggerating the hero worship of their idol.

Now, I was watching the 50 year old former opener against the fastest bowler in the world at the time, Roy Gichrist of West Indies!  A man of immense pace and ferocious nature. As Gilchrist, arms flailing, thundered in to deliver, Mushtaq Ali actually stepped out of his crease! He must have stepped out at least two yards!

Gilchrist, flabbergasted, did not release the ball. He ran down the pitch to Mushtaq Ali’s end, glared at him for a while and made a sign of the cross on Mushtaq Ali, as if marking the target before turning back to bowl the next ball. Mushtaq Ali merely smiled and made a gesture of flicking a speck of dirt from his fluttering silk shirt.

The whole episode was the height of showmanship. But this was no theatre. A spark had been ignited between the world’s fastest bowler and the world’s most adventurous batsman. The stark reality of antagonism was palpable. The crowd was on the edge of their seats. We realized that there would be no quarters given; certainly none asked for. The intervening moment throbbed with excitement: a fuming Gilchrist walking back to the top of his distant bowling mark; and Mushtaq, nonchalant and graceful, leaning on his bat for support.

The next ball from the fearsome Gilchrist scorched the earth but the old man was again out of his crease in no time and flicked the rising delivery off his chest over square leg to the fence. It was a combination of raw courage, superlative co-ordination of hand and eye and sense of adventure.

I had seen enough. Realised there and then, the reason for generations of cricket lovers to idolize Mushtaq Ali. He was not only a marvellous batsman, full of strokes and audacious nature. No, no, he was much more. For him cricket was not only a game, but an adventure. An adventure to be enjoyed and to be lived to the full. If the adventure did not end in glory, there was no failure involved. It was just a matter of challenge.It was the sense of attempting the impossible that set him apart from others. Never before or since has a batsman stepped out to the fastest of bowlers to cut the ball or to glance or to flick. None would dare because it was risky. In fact that was precisely the reason why Mushtaq Ali patented that stroke of his: because it was difficult to execute and because it was risky even if executed properly.

In the 1970s I played against his son Gulrez Ali in Duleep Trophy matches. He had his father’s easy bearing, relaxed smile and cultured manner. There, however, the comparison ended because there could not be another graceful and gracious Mushtaq Ali, not even among his own progeny.

In 1993 Mushtaq Ali had come at the invitation of the Voluntary Blood Donors’ Association to meet the blood donors at Eden Gardens, of whom I happened to be one. I had taken a copy of his autobiography Cricket Delightful and requested him for his signature. Flashing a wide smile, he put down his signature and wrote, “Hope one day you play for India.” It was very embarrassing and so I told him, “Sir, I am 43 and have given up active cricket.”

Without any hesitation he smiled again, “You never know. They might call you for the India Veterans XI.” Believe it or not, by the end of that year I was actually in the India Veterans team.

After the blood donation camp was over, I invited Mushtaq Ali to the CAB indoor stadium to meet the Bengal Under-16 team members, who were my wards. There even before we could even request him, he volunteered to bat! He was nearing 80 at the time. Still ramrod straight and without an iota of excess fat, his statuesque bearing evoked instant admiration. Most of the bats he found rather heavy, as contemporary bats are. Finally he picked up a comparatively light bat and was ready to face the bowling without any protective gear. I asked an off-spinner to bowl. Again he stepped out of his crease and this time he cut the ball with immaculate timing!

 It was not the rapier thrust of a cut. No, it was a whipping action of steely wrists. Simply amazing the stroke was. At the age of 80 in totally alien conditions how did he manage to time the ball is beyond my comprehension. But he did it. We saw it and were mesmerized. Never before had he played under artificial lights. Never before had he played on artificial surface. Yet he revealed to us what genius really was.

Later, I requested him to advise me and my trainees. The modest man said, “My philosophy is enjoy your cricket and give enjoyment to others. I have nothing else to say.” It was brilliant. Just brilliant. In a nut-shell he told us what sport was all about.

Mushtaq Ali’s contribution to cricket and cricketers can never be judged by statistical facts and figures. He belonged to a different genre. A breed that evoked passionate love for the game among cricket followers. The top two of the rare breed most certainly would be Keith Miller and Mushtaq Ali. They risked their fame and fortune to give entertainment to generations of cricket lovers. They never cared for statistics although their talents achieved phenomenal popularity.

Both Miller and Mushtaq share a rare platform. They were brought back into the national side by the direct intervention of cricket lovers. Keith Miller, at the time the leading all-rounder of the world, was dropped by the Australian selectors which included Sir Don, from the South African tour of 1949-50. The press and public outcry at the injustice reverberated all over the world, particularly in Australia. Later the Australian selectors had to bow down to public opinion and reinstate him when one player, Bill Johnston, was injured during the tour.

So with Mushtaq Ali. More than 70 years ago at Calcutta he was dropped by the national selectors, one of whom was Duleepsinhji. The emotional Bengalees were up in arms. They demonstrated in front of Eden Gardens holding placards proclaiming: “No Mushtaq, no Test”. This was against Hasset’s Australian Services team in 1945. Mushtaq Ali was promptly brought back to his rightful position in the XI. This is indeed unique. Never before or since in the annals of cricket have we had a player brought back into the playing XI because of public outcry. Such was the love and admiration that cricket lovers had for the magnificent man.

    

          

               On  Sachin Tendulkar

             

My first interaction with the young Sachin was in 1992. He was in England at the time as the first-ever overseas professional for Yorkshire CCC. I happened to be the coach of Kailash Gattani’s Star Cricket Club on its tour of UK.  Sachin had played for this team in 1988 at the age of 15 and the following year too had made another tour. In late 1989 he had also made his Test debut for India in Pakistan against the fearsome duo of Imran Khan and Waqar Younus.

Sachin had phoned to find out how the young boys were doing and if they were good learners. Honestly, I was quite amazed to observe his sense of belonging and commitment. He himself was just 19 at the time, in a new environment and among hardened professionals. But he was genuinely concerned about how the young Indian cricketers were doing in UK. I asked him, “Are you enjoying your own cricket here?” The young man replied, “Sir, Cricket is not merely enjoyment to me. I worship cricket. It is everything to me. My 24-hour companion.”

Over to 2011. IPL 4 was on. I happened to be the match referee in a match involving Sachin Tendulkar’s Mumbai Indians and Kumara Sangakara”s Deccan Chargers. On the way to the pitch for the toss, as is the custom to remind the captains of their responsibilities, no sooner I began, “Young men,” Sachin raised his hand and said, “Did you address me as young?”  Caressing my grey, flowing beard, I replied, “With my kind of beard, what else can I call you?” Immediately he replied, “One request. Please never shave your beard. Then I shall always remain young. You know some people consider me to be old.”

No doubt, it was a lovely sense of humour. But behind the wit, one could make out that the great man was nursing a sense of pique. A very natural sentiment for a person, who was selflessly serving the nation for more than two decades.

Another episode in the same match revealed the magnanimity of the man all the more. At the toss, when teams are exchanged between captains, Sangakara bit his lips and indicated that he had forgotten to bring the team list with him! This was a serious issue of code violation. But at that point of time with the whole cricket world looking at us, I did not want to create a scene. I raised my eyebrows at Sachin and he very coolly nodded that he was fine without the list.  The whole incident took just a couple of seconds and the toss took place without anyone else realizing what exactly had happened. Not even the ever-agile commentator Ravi Shastri.

This was sportsmanship at its best. For a captain to allow the opposition to delay submitting the team list is unheard of. But Sachin Tendulkar did it with grace and ease. For my part, I asked Kumara Sangakara to get the team list before we left the field. Sachin insisted that he was fine without it but embarrassed Kumara was full of apologies as he had the team list brought on the field by another player.

Yet another incident is related to IPL 5. This time I found that Sachin was running on the pitch while taking runs. As cricket followers are aware, no batter is allowed to run on the patch between the two sets of stumps, known as the ‘protected area’. But Sachin kept doing it more often than not. After the innings was over, as the match ref I asked the umpires if they had noticed Tendulkar’s mistake. One of the umpires was Asad Rauf of Pakistan.

Asad laughed at my query, “Rajuji, please don’t even think about it. He has been doing this for 20 years. But, you know, no umpire has ever raised a charge against him on this issue because of two reasons. First is that, although he runs straight between the wickets, he never does anything to spoil the condition of the pitch. And secondly, we have such high respect and affection for him that we cannot even visualize raising charges against this gentleman.” This is the kind of regard and admiration our Little Master has earned from hardened professionals around the world.

Another issue of IPL 5 stands out in my memory. I had penalized Munaf Patel 50% of his match fees for abusing Aussie umpire Rod Tucker. Munaf came to my room to plead to excuse him. So upset was I that I turned him down and gave him a note confirming that he pays 50% of his match fees. As captain of Mumbai Indians, Sachin could have come to a ‘hearing’ to defend his player Munaf Patel. But Sachin did not. I thought it was very sensible of him not come to the defence of a man who did not deserve any assistance. Munaf’s fine amounted to rupees 9.5 lakh. But Sachin thankfully did not come to put any pressure on me. The ultimate gentleman Sachn Tendulkar realized that Munaf deserved the heavy fine as punishment. The upright gentleman in him has no time for people, even colleagues, who commit crimes and expect sympathy.

In late 1989 the young man made his Test debut. At just 16 years and some days he was among the youngest ever to play Test cricket. The man who put him on the highest platform was none other than Raj Singh Dungarpur, the chairman of selectors at the time. Other selectors raised their voices against him, primarily because of his youth and more so because he was replacing a player of Mohinder Amarnath’s calibre. But Rajbhai’s personality and persuasive powers finally won them over. And the rest is history, as the cliché goes.

Before the arrival of Dravid, Ganguly and Laxman the young man had little by way of support as a batsman. He was in the company of cricketers who spent time in conspiracy and conflict. Some avoided fast bowlers, while others ‘fixed’ matches. To play and succeed in such an environment needed extraordinary fortitude and strength of character. Far from being nursed at an early age, the callow youth was expected to win matches for India on his own.   He was fighting not only the opposition but also the corrupt within his own team. Apart from George Headley of West Indies in the 1930s, no other great batter had so little support at the beginning of his career.

That he survived in that ambience speaks volumes of his character. From 1989 to 2013 (both inclusive) means 25 years of international cricket! This is an index of the man’s astounding form and fitness. Never once was he involved in any kind of controversy. Never once was any doubt raised in any quarter of the man’s integrity and honesty. His popularity is world over. Even battle-weary opponents have been known to be his ardent admirers.

Comparison with Sir Donald Bradman is inevitable. Sir Don himself acknowledged that his wife had told him that Sachin Tendulkar’s batting reminded her of Don’s skills with the bat. Like Sir Don in 1948, Tendulkar too announced his own retirement. Like Sir Don, he too retired at 40. But comparisons between geniuses of different eras are odious. I feel if Sachin was born in 1908 he would have achieved as much as Sir Don did. And had Sir Don been born in 1973, he too would have achieved as much as Sachin has. Geniuses of every generation outclass the rest against all odds. They are not to be compared and contrasted. They are to be treasured and worshipped.

Sachin Tendulkar’s social service is hardly ever reported. He works in silence; hates publicity for doing what he wants to do for the downtrodden. His gratitude for his early coach Ramakant Vithal Achrekar is well known. Here is a man who has exchanged views with the best of cricketing brains around the world, but he has not forgotten the man who helped him to lay the firm foundation as a youngster. This is the kind of gratitude you do not get to see in many players, Rahul Dravid always excepted.

Sachin’s deep respect for seniors is legendary. Time and again he has mentioned that Sunil Gavaskar’s mentorship had helped him. He has the highest regard for former players and makes it a point to keep himself informed about them. In a country where Test cricketers are rated to be the only experts on the game, Sachin holds the opposite view.

 He himself was thrust on top not by any former international player, but by a first-class cricketer by the name of Raj Singh Dungarpur. Sachin has not forgotten the contribution of Achrekar and Raj Singh, both non international cricketers. Even now, striding at the pinnacle of cricket kingdom, he still has a wave, a smile and often a word for the back-stage people who are associated with the game, whether they be umpires, referees, support staff, scorers, administers or players.

Cradled in the best tradition of Mumbai cricket, Sachin grew up in the strong Marathi stronghold of Shivaji Park in Dadar, which has given birth to numerous cricketers of outstanding calibre. The Mumbai school of cricket is a hard taskmaster but a very fair one: the deserving get enough opportunities of match-play, immediate recognition of talent and genuine encouragement from the right quarters. No favours are granted and none is expected.

Indian cricket lovers owe a debt of gratitude to Sachin’s elder brother Ajit.   Ajit was the person who understood that Sachin preferred the outdoors to the confines of a classroom. He took him to the no-nonsense coach, Achrekar. The low profile coach was sensible enough to realize that Sachin was a natural and needed more opportunities than text book coaching. Achrekar thankfully had no coaching diplomas and degrees to bother him and allowed his young ward to bat and bat and bat till the cows came home.

Now that the little-master-turned-great-batsman has retired , I salute him for the wonderful time he gave us. It is because of his outstanding performance that we Indians can walk twenty feet tall on the cricket field today. 

                                                 

                     Sir Donald George Bradman

Don Bradman has been an unusual victim all his life. He faced a barrage of criticisms from his contemporaries for reasons that were never fully substantiated. He was criticized for being unsocial, for not mixing with his mates as much as they would have liked him to. Yes, Bradman hardly ever went to the pub with the boys after the day’s game was over. The fact that he was a strict teetotaler never seemed to cross the minds of his vehement critics. Even beer, he abhorred. A rare exception would be to have a glass of wine in an ambience of western classical music.

Bradman was hauled over burning coal because of his supposed fondness for wealth. His team-mates harped that he utilized his image to reap huge financial dividends. The fact was that he being the greatest-ever batman in the world induced sponsors and influential people to make a beeline towards him. Bradman never went out of his way to curry favour with anyone. Rather he accepted, on his own highly-principled terms whatever was offered to him. Most appropriately, he received financial bonanzas which were beyond the imagination of his compatriots. No wonder they were jealous of his stature and wealth.

Bradman was thought to be arrogant and standoffish. Quite true, he did not embrace people and make a great show of camaraderie. At the beginning of his career he was extremely shy. Born and brought up in rural surroundings, he took time to settle down to city life in Sydney. His dress, his manner, his rustic background came in for constant bullying from his fellow New South Wales players. Being reticent by nature and quite devoid of city sophistication, he became almost a recluse. He went deep into his shell and would respond only when absolutely necessary.

A massive hullabaloo was made of Bradman’s refusal to meet Lord Tennyson, the former England captain. Tennyson, who never had a high regard for Bradman’s batting ability, once went across to the Australian dressing room to meet Bradman at the end of a day’s game. Bradman, who had just returned to the pavilion after scoring his customary century, informed that he did not wish to meet anyone as he was resting his limbs. This too was considered to be Bradman’s way of insulting another cricketer!

Whatever he did or achieved came in for vindictive verbal reprisals. When he declined to play a Test match because of illness, he was supposed to be avoiding for fear of failure. When he changed his technique to play deliveries directed at his body, he was supposed to be a coward. When he was in earnest conversation with King George VI at the latter’s castle he had casually placed his hand in his pocket. This insignificant act became a headline that Bradman was rude towards the royalty.

If he was scoring heavily and consistently, as he invariably did (Test average 99.94), he was supposed to be hankering for individual records and personal glory. Whenever his team defeated opponents, it was claimed that he had no mercy for the opposition. Bradman never got a moment’s rest during his playing career that stretched for two decades from 1928 to 1948, except the War years. He was perpetually bombarded with vitriol and worse. Ironically the principal detractors were his peers, particularly Victor Richardson (Ian and Greg Chappel’s maternal grandfather), Jack Fingleton and Bill O’Rielly.

During his heydays, some Englishmen said that Don Bradman would never be a Grace or a Ranji or even a Woolley. To this the Australian cricket writer who first highlighted young Don’s immense genius, Johny Moyes replied, “Why should he become a mere mortal. He is and will always be the numero uno among batsmen.”

Even after his cricketing days were over, he never seemed to get the recognition he deserved from the Australian cricketing fraternity. If Keith Miller’s exclusion from the South Africa tour and the overlooking of Miller as the national captain had some validity, there was precious little praise for Bradman’s visionary outlook. He almost single-handedly banned throw bowling from Australian cricket; he encouraged sponsorship deals; he promoted district and school cricket; he formulated innovative laws. Yet he never got any credit.

Despite all the criticisms, the image of the man hardly suffered around the world. In Australia he was voted the most popular personality ahead of prime ministers and film stars. People of all hues and sections from all over the cricketing world held him in highest acclaim. They remembered not only the phenomenal numerical superiority of the man but also the softer elements of his character. He allowed young Bill Edrich to reach the milestone of 1000 runs in May in 1938. On the last day of May if Australia had batted on, Middlesex would have had no scope to bat and Edrich would have had no opportunity to reach the coveted target. The ‘cruel’ Bradman declared Australia’s innings closed so that the young Edrich at least got the chance to aim for the milestone.

It was none other than Bradman who went into raptures about the ability of the Indian cricketers in Australia in 1947-48. India was badly defeated in the Tests, but the supposedly ‘arrogant’ Bradman picked Vijay Hazare, Lala Amarnath and Vinoo Mankad for special mention and painted a positive picture of Indian cricket in general. In his book Farewell to Cricket, he highly praised the India team manager Pankaj Gupta, whom he fondly called ‘Peter Gupta’.

The greatness of Bradman cannot be evaluated by mere statistics. There is a constant fear that the stupendous statistics in his favour would submerge the magic in his batting. He was far, far above any of his contemporaries by any yardstick of evaluation. Similarly he was way ahead of batsmen before and after him by any known perspective. He was and still remains on the highest peak: very singular and very lonely.

His was an amazing career. Hardly any failures ever blotted his genius. In just 80 Test innings he scored no les than 29 centuries, which means for every third visit to the pitch he would get a hundred! These centuries however did also include innumerable double hundreds and two triple centuries. An unique quality of his career has been that his failures invariably attracted attention. So very few were those failures that “Bradman fails” actually became a headline! I doubt if any other sportsman in any other sports arena has ever had such publicity for his failure. No wonder his critics could not stomach his stature.

The greatest tribute paid by the cricket community to Sir Don was the conception, formulation and application of the ‘bodyline’ theory. The aim of ‘bodyline’ theory was to aim fast, rising deliveries at the batsman’s body with the idea to instill fear in him. If the batsman did not lose his wicket out of sheer fright, then he would be exposed to serious injury. The aim was to maim. The target was to achieve victory by whatever means. The history of cricket has never before or after seen anything as dangerous or as disgusting. Cricket during the ‘bodyline’ series was no longer a sport to be enjoyed, but a war to be won.

Since Bradman’s remarkable consistency and high speed of scoring could not be restrained by normal cricketing strategies and techniques, ‘bodyline’ bowling was developed to bring down Bradman to mortal levels. No ‘bodyline’ theory or any particular strategy to injure the batsman was ever devised for Jack Hobbs, Victor Trumper, Sunil Gavaskar, Gary Sobers, Brian Lara or Sachin Tendulkar. It was planned exclusively for the one and only Sir Don. This was the highest accolade that he received.

              On Richie  Benaud

Very, very few cricketers have left behind the kind of all-round legacy that Richie Benaud did. Everything about him was handsome: looks, physique, appearance, gait, mannerisms, voice and demeanour. The man just could not do anything that was inelegant or incongruous.

French revolutionary blood may not have flowed in his veins. But French inheritance he possessed as his surname distinctly reveals. And he was a radical in the most meaningful way: introduced unique innovations into cricket, a passion which ultimately became his profession.

His casual style reflected vibrancy and vivacity. His exuberance rubbed off on others. Women gaped at him while men tried to imitate. His distinctive style was reminiscent of the man he revered: Keith Ross Miller. Benaud followed Miller from playing cricket to cricket journalism and authorship to cricket broadcast.

If Miller was totally anti-establishment, Benaud was both pro and anti depending upon the issue concerned. While the fighter-pilot (2^nd world war veteran) in Keith Miller had little time for discussions and debates, Richie Benaud, a post-war journalist, had enough time at hand to be patient and pragmatic.

Benaud brought all his knowledge and skills to enlighten the cricket world for nearly six decades. His influence on modern cricket has had no parallel. If Grace, Ranji, Fry and Bosanquet were the early influences on the game, and Bradman was among the chief advocate of the changing trends, then contemporary cricket’s major influence has been the man from New South Wales, Richie Benaud.

Richie Benaud was among the premier all-rounders of the cricket world in the late 1950s and early 1960s. His peers happened to be Garfield Sobers and Alan Davidson. But Benaud influence on the game went far beyond the cricket ground. He was on a pedestal of his own making, way above the rest.

 He was a prolific writer on the game, whether it was authorship of books or articles for journals and newspapers. His ideas would always be well-considered and strongly-opinionated. There was nothing vague or secretive about his prose. He wrote from the heart and so was spontaneous. He would willingly stick his neck out and be counted. He knew not sycophancy, nor flattery.

Benaud’s impeccable quality was that he took issue by issue. If he criticized someone one day on an issue, he would be ready to praise the same man on another issue when the person deserved it. This unbiased approach of his made him a most sought after author and critic.

Later Benaud came into radio broadcast. Here he was at his best. Millions around the world would tune in to BBC just to listen to his rendition. He became “the Voice of Cricket”. No bias ever crossed those lips of his. The listeners were conveyed the relevant parts of the history of cricket and its laws without a moment’s hesitation. His tone and tenor; diction and delivery were unmatched. Even the legendary John Arlott would surely agree.

When television arrived, the first person as commentator the channels wanted was the one and only Richie Benaud. He came and conquered the new medium with ease. Now the challenge was different. For radio broadcast, the commentator had to draw the picture for the listeners’ benefit.Now the viewer could himself see the action.

 Immediately Benaud changed his style. So long he would be a constant conveyor over the radio. Now he would only need to add to the picture. Again he was in his elements. He added subtle touches. Never insulted the viewer by mentioning exactly what he (the viewer) had just seen. He mentioned only the finer points. Perhaps some past similar incidents; or a little of the laws to substantiate the picture; may be a hilarious anecdote or two.

Born in 1930, the Depression Years made him all the more determined. He was an Aussie by birth and spirit. His father had once taken 20 wickets in a grade match, but young Richie was not content to sit and dawdle over that. He cut his own mark. By 21, he was wearing the ‘baggy green’.

 His initial years in international cricket did not set the Sydney Harbour on fire. He was not consistent enough although he had given glimpses of his outstanding all-round credentials. At Scarborough, he had hit 11 sixes and 9 fours in making 135. He had scalped wickets regularly. He had fielded brilliantly, including a magnificent catch at gully to dismiss Colin Cowdrey at Old Trafford.

Any young cricketer would have been happy with this kind of progress. But not Benaud. His performance against West Indies, England and India in his early years was not entirely to his satisfaction in terms of runs and wickets. He was actually a maniac when it came to practice. He would just go on and on. He knew no respite, no relaxation. He had no time for socializing. Such a positive approach could not go unrewarded. By the time he finished the tour of South Africa in 1957-58, the name of Richie Benaud reverberated around the cricketing world. Whether batting or bowling he showed the world that he was among the prime all-rounders.

Around this period Australian cricket was going through a crisis. Bradman’s days as captain were over. Lindsay Hasset was the obvious choice as the next captain. He was followed by Ian Johnson and then Ian Craig. None could bring back the lost laurels of the Bradman era. When Benaud blossomed as an all-rounder of outstanding merit in South Africa, the Aussie selectors wasted no time to elevate him to the leadership.

Immediately Benaud was in his elements. He had shown his flair for captaincy ever since he took over the leadership of his state side, New South Wales. He was a natural leader of men. He proved it very convincingly by defeating a very strong England team under Peter May 4-0 in 1958-59. Within a year his team recorded overwhelming victories away from home over India and Pakistan.

 In 1960-61, in collaboration with Frank Worrell, Benaud produced a series that would go down in the history of Test cricket as the greatest series ever. Both West Indies and Australia dueled as if there was no morrow. They battled eye-lid to eye-lid. No quarter was given, none asked for. Both the teams were epitome of sportsmanship. They transformed cricket as no series had done before or since.

Richie Benaud’s credentials as among the greatest of all Test captains were enshrined forever. The following series in England was won in splendid style with a magnificent victory at Manchester, where England cruising at 150 for 1, collapsed to 201 all out. The brilliant strategist Benaud took 6 for 70, bowling round the wicket on the rough and having the strong England batters in complete disarray.

Frank to a fault, he abhorred hypocrisy. When Aussie umpire Col Egar “called” Ian Meckiff for throwing, the Australian captain was Richie Benaud. The incident occurred at Brisbane in 1963-64 against South Africa. Like a true sportsman, Benaud did not dispute the umpire’s decision. On the contrary he sided with Sir Don and saw to it that ‘throw bowling’ never recurred in Australia. Today when almost every nation encourages the presence of throw bowlers in its arsenal, ironically the most dominant cricketing nation, Australia, does not depend on such underhand tactics. This change came about because of Bradman and Benaud.

Being a natural athlete, the six feet two elegant frame was a magnificent fielder anywhere, especially so at gully from where he marshaled his forces. The picture of the ‘Cowdrey catch’ at Old Trafford is still to be seen in the cricket museums around the world.

Benaud spent hours practicing the difficult art of wrist spin. His wide repertoire included two varieties of leg spin, top spin and googly. He developed a unique in-dipper where he used the seam to make the leg-spinning ball dip in to the right-hander. At Eden in 1959-60, Pankaj Roy was trapped leg-before-wicket with a similar delivery.

He had a flipper, too, which he used sparingly. But his prime ability was to extract bounce and to trap the batter with his curving, deceptive flight. He was a master strategist and would crowd the batter with close-in fielders at the slightest opportunity.

With the bat in hand he was a typical Australian. Never thought of the ‘willow’ as an implement of defence. He used it to give vent to his aggressive intent. Very strong on the drive, he would lift the ball with power and grace. Once at Eden he hit Bapu Nadkarni for three straight sixes over the sight-screen while playing for Swanton’s XI. Like all Australians he was extremely strong on the cut and the pull, but his front-foot driving was a connoisseur’s delight. He relished stepping out of the crease and taking the fight to the opposition.

In times of need, however, he would shift gears. The handsome face would display a grim exterior. He would go behind the ball and play it down as he did so emphatically against the likes of Wesley Hall and Gary Sobers, Freddie Trueman and Brian Statham, Neil Adcock and Peter Heine.

For sheer cricketing wisdom and the courage to reveal the truth, Richie Benaud has had very, very equals. In the contemporary cricket scenario, Benaud has left behind his imprint in no uncertain manner. In modern cricket most of the innovations can be traced back to the Packer era. Kerry Packer’s main advisor was none other than Benaud.

Most of the innovations that we see today, especially in the ODIs and T20s, have their roots in the cricketing mind of Richie Benaud. Benaud’s contribution to cricket will be enshrined in the annals of cricket forever.

On Rahul Dravid , the man .

                                               

 The first time I met Rahul Dravid was at Mumbai in 2005-06. The occasion was the inaugural edition of BCCI’s T20 tournament. BCCI’s inter stateT20 tournament is named after the memory of one of India’s master batsmen, Syed Mushtaq Ali. The match was at Wankhede Stadium and one of the teams happened to be Karnataka.

The day before the match at the pre-match meeting, where the two contesting teams meet the umpires and the match referee, Karnataka was represented by their new captain Yere Gowda, as the original captain Dravid was not certain to play. At the time he was leading India and the national team had just returned from a foreign tour and so the Karnataka manager Sudhakar Rao informed us that their original choice as captain, Rahul Dravid, may not be able to arrive on time for the match.

Next morning, before the toss while the umpires and I, as the match referee, were inspecting the pitch, we saw that Rahul Dravid was walking towards the pitch. As he came near, he exchanged pleasantries and then was about to step on the pitch itself. I quickly blurted out, “Are you leading the team in this match?” He shook his head and said, “No.” I smiled and added, “Probably you have forgotten that as a playing member you are not supposed to walk on the pitch. Only the captain has the prerogative.”

Instantly he stopped and said, “I am sorry. Thanks for reminding me.” I replied, “Cannot blame you, Rahul. As the India captain you have got used to walking on the pitch before the match. Anyway, no harm done. Thanks.”

Suddenly the huge frame of Venkatesh Prasad appeared. He thought I was having a confrontation with Rahul Dravid. He shrugged his shoulders and raised his voice at me, “Do you realize that you are arguing with the India captain.” Without a moment’s hesitation, the India captain Rahul Dravid cut him short, “Ref is correct. As an ordinary player I am not allowed on the pitch.”

This is the real Rahul Dravid. A man of courage; a man of character. Courageous enough to accept that he himself was about to make a mistake. He had no qualms in saying so in front of the curator, the umpires and others who were near us at the time. Revealed exemplary character to silence his colleague for being wrong. I feel proud to see that we still have such men in India.

Later that evening, after our match was over I went across to the Brabourne  Stadium , the home of Cricket Club Of India (CCI), to watch another T20 match in progress. As I entered, Dilip Vengsarkar called me over to the seat beside him. On the other side of Vengsarkar was Rahul Dravid. Vengsarkar introduced me to him saying, “Meet my friend Raju.” Straight-faced Dravid replied, “Met him this morning. A very lenient match referee.” When Dilip furrowed his eyebrows to know what had transpired earlier, Rahul smiled and mentioned the incident. Dilip added sauce, “Even when he was playing he behaved like a match ref.”

As the conversation flowed, Rahul mentioned that he had liked reading my book, “The part about cricket being played during Mahabharata days was an eye-opener.”  I was astounded that he had found the time to read my writing. As if this was not enough, he added, “Rajan Bala told me to read your articles. I usually do.” He was so very matter of fact. No ego. No pretence. I came to learn that he was an avid collector of cricket books.

Later that season, again our paths crossed. This time again at Wankhede. The occasion was a Ranji Trophy tie between Mumbai and Karnataka. Before leaving Calcutta, I had taken a first edition Cardus duplicate that I had in my collection for Rahul. My wife Seema was mad at me, “Do you realize that you would be giving the India captain a moth-eaten, old book? What will he think of you?” I had told her before departure, “If any player would realize its worth, that would be Dravid.”

 How correct I was. The moment he had the tattered copy in his hands, he uttered, “Are you sure you want to part with this original edition Cardus? This is a collector’s item. This will be a treasure in my collection.” The cerebral man did not bother about the non-glossy exterior. Here was a man who could buy new books from all over the world. But he understood the value of antiquity.

Another incident revealed the man all the more. At Mysore city Karnataka were hosting Punjab to a Ranji Trophy tie. Manish Pandey, a young talented batter, was playing an excellent innings and remained unbeaten on 80 at the end of the penultimate day, with his team needing around 50 plus to win the tie. While they were doing their cooling-down drills, I called Pandey and asked him the reason for wearing light grey coloured shoes while batting. Skipper Rahul was more embarrassed than the culprit, Pandey. Rahul, however, asked me if it was possible to allow him to continue with those shoes as he had no other pair.

I told Dravid that if he felt it was perfect, I would allow Pandey to continue with those shoes. Rahul replied, “No, no I do not think these shoes are ok. He should be wearing white shoes. Will you please accept if he puts white plaster on the shoes while batting?” I understood the problem, “Fair enough, skip. Out of sheer respect for you, I will allow it.”

Next day Pandey got his hundred and Karnataka won the match. After the conclusion, skipper Rahul came to the referee’s room and thanked me, “You have opened my eyes. I found most of my lads do not possess proper white cricket shoes. I assure you from next match Karnataka players will wear absolutely proper white shoes.” I was stunned to say the least. Here was a captain who had the courtesy to acknowledge even a minor problem and willing to admit it in public. Not many captains would uphold the traditional values of cricket in this manner.

Another incident revealed another dimension of his persona. At Jaipur, Rajasthan Royals was involved in a match with Delhi Daredevils. It was an IPL match in 2012. As match referee, I walked in for the toss. The commentator was Sanjay Manjrekar. He asked me, “Sir, I just want to get the pronunciation of your name correctly. Is it MUKHERJI?” He proceeded to repeat my surname so that he got the pronunciation right. Instantly Dravid, the RR skipper, smiled, “No, his real name is not MUKHERJI. It is MUKHOPADHYAY. ” I was taken aback for a moment, then replied, “Rahul is absolutely right. Since I am in tie and jacket I call myself Mukherji. In dhoti-kurta, I call myself Mukhopadhyay.” With a smile, Rahul wagged his finger at Sanjay meaning I told you so.

The man is really amazing. How did he come to know that the Mukherjis are actually Mukhopadhyays. For a man from Karnataka to know the origin of Bengali surnames is quite astounding. His awareness of the world around goes far beyond the comprehension of most sportsmen. Bright, well-read and articulate, the man is actually one in a million.

Rahul Dravid is a man of gratitude. He is known to have told the world time and again that Keki Tarapore was his coach, even though he has come under the guidance of far more famous cricket personalities. I asked Shahvir Trapore, the international umpire and Keki Tarapore’s son, about Dravid’s relationship with his father.

Shahvir said, “My father was his coach at school. Rahul never let anybody forget that. He kept in constant touch with dad even when he was busy with his very tight international schedule. Dad used to feel a little embarrassed when Rahul often praised him publicly. But Rahul always maintained that the early coaches were the real coaches for they help to lay the foundation. To have a proper structure, you need a solid foundation.” How very true. But how many famous players (Sachin Tendulkar excepted) would acknowledge the fact that they should be indebted to their early coaches? Only a man of rare character would have the broad-mindedness to accept the truth.

Dravid’s greatness as a batsman needs no elaboration. Completely selfless, he even volunteered to keep wickets for India. People who have not played the game would not realize how very difficult it is for a non-regular wicket-keeper to do this role and then to succeed at his primary job of batting as well. Rahul achieved the extremely difficult task most commendably and without a word of annoyance.

As a leader of men he proved himself time and again for India. He won Test series  in West Indies and in England. Not many Indian captains have achieved this rare feat.  Initially with Karnataka and later with Rajasthan Royals, captain Dravid kept his profile low but was highly proactive. He was their captain, their mentor, their coach. He accepted every role with grace and graciousness. Players within his orbit progressed not only as cricketers but also as human beings. All those who have played under him whether for Karnataka or Rajasthan Royals have no qualms in acknowledging that they literally worship him.

Rahul Dravid remains the modest self that he has always been. Never a word out of place. Never an act to raise any eyebrow. Never cared for publicity. Never flirted with any controversy. Never tried to draw any attention to himself. Always remained the selfless, low-profile, intelligent and articulate gentleman. In a cricket world that has lost its innocence, Dravid’s presence was the only consolation. He upheld the spirit of cricket and its traditional values on and off the field. He was probably the last of a rare breed. A great cricketer; a greater human being.