Gobor Goho, India’s first-ever  official world champion                                                                        

Although Gama Pehelwan was the first Indian wrestler to be considered a world champion, he could not be officially crowned because at the time in 1910 there was no official wrestling championship for professional wrestlers. That ultimate crown was reserved for Gobor Goho, an almost unknown name in modern India.

Some people do not require prefixes or suffixes. They fly high on their own. They inspire. They mould. They become the vanguard of movements. They do not crave for fame or fortune. In every field of endeavour they exist. They are the karma-yogis who just leave behind a trail for others to follow.

Such a soul was Gobor Goho of Calcutta. He won the world light-heavy weight wrestling championship in 1921. Gobor was a rare wrestler. He combined academics and music with massive physical strength. High on courage and technical skills, he was a prominent name in world wrestling in the 1920s. No opposition was formidable enough for him. No occasion, awe-inspiring. At 6 feet, 2 inches and weighing around 250 pounds, he himself was an imposing figure.

Born Jatindra Charan Goho on 23^rd March 1892 in a wealthy, enlightened background, he did not wrestle for money or for political patronage. His grandfather Ambika was great advocate of physical-culture among the Indian youths, especially belonging to the wealthy families who despised the idea of physical effort.

 Ambika Charan Goho established an ankhara at his north Kolkata residence way back in the 1880s. Later his sons Khetra Charan and Ram Charan (Gobor’s father) carried on the mission. The famous freedom-fighter ‘Bagha’ Jatin and Narendranath Dutta (later Swami Vivekananda) were trainees at the Goho wrestling ankhara.

Young Jatindra was a meritorious student. But unlike his father and uncle, he could not attain the ‘first’ rank in his academic class. His grandfather Ambika Charan lovingly said, “He has gobor (cow-dung) instead of giloo (grey-cells) in his head.” But his grandmother would not take it lying down. “Don’t worry,” she added, “his gobor will be worth more than your giloo.” Thus Jatin became Gobor overnight, as it were. Even such a rude, awkward nickname could not rattle the focus of this karma-yogin.

Khetra  Charan and Ram Charan  realized the young Gobor’s potential and so appointed Khosla Choubey, a famous wrestler, to guide and advise him. Later Gobor came under the tutelage of Rehmani and Khalifa, two famous pehelwans of the period, and took part in wrestling competitions all over India and abroad.

In 1910 Maharaja of Patiala, Bhupendra Singh sent Gama, Imam Baksh, Ahmed Baksh, Gamu and Gobor to Europe. Within days, however, he was forced to return as he had vanished without informing his parents! He was just 17 at the time and his father, although a great patron of wrestling, was extremely annoyed because Gobor had not shown the obedience and discipline expected of him.

That trip saw Gama emerging as the unofficial world champion. This was just the catalyst that young Gobor needed. Inspired by Gama’s magnificent exploits, young Gobor practised hard and diligently in his quest for the crown. In 1913 in UK he annexed the Scottish and the British titles. Following year in Paris he became the European champion.

But the philosopher-wrestler wanted only the world title. In 1921 at San Francisco he finally encountered Adolf Shantel, the world champion. It was a clash of titans, where the champion succumbed to Goho’s skill, speed and stamina.

The international community hailed the new champion of the world light-heavy weight crown. Unlike his famous compatriots, Gobor made many trips abroad and was highly acclaimed for his erudition, patriotism and for his wrestling prowess.

But in India, Gobor Goho’s success was only grudgingly acknowledged. Prejudice and jealousy kept his international eminence submerged. He did not belong to any of the influential akharas. Nor did he depend on any princely patronage. Rather he himself was nicknamed “The Prince” for his bearing and background.

His world championship-winning feat has hardly ever been highlighted in partisan India. In India at the time it was felt that a person hailing from a wealthy background did not deserve to be an eminent wrestler! Even now the sentiment has hardly altered. Gobor Goho, ever the karma-yogin, cared not. He traversed his own path with his head held high.

 Vizzy

We mentioned in an earlier article about the magnanimity of Natwarsinhji and Ghanashyamsinhji, the respective Maharajas of Porbandar and Limbdi, on the tour of Britain in 1932. We also discussed the outstanding cricket ability of another ‘royalty’, Yadavendra Singh, the Yuvraj of Patiala. While on the subject of royal personages in Indian cricket, let us concentrate on another ‘royal’ personality at the other extreme.

On India’s tour to England in 1936 the picture was completely reversed. This time the captain-elect was the Maharajkumar of Vizianagram, Gajapati Vijaya Anand Raju, popularly known as Vizzy. Vizzy fancied himself to be a capable cricketer, although he had no result to show his prowess as a batsman or as a captain. He manipulated the powers-that-be to such an extent that the selectors actually announced his name as the captain of the India team to tour Britain in 1936.

He played in all the three Tests in England thereby weakening the national team. His was a disastrous influence on the team. Incident after incident marred the 1936 tour: the Lala Amarnath fiasco; the controversial selection of Baqa Jilani and the Mushtaq –Merchant attempted conspiracy.

Lala Amarnath began the 1936 tour with his breezy style of cricket. He was doing exceptionally well with the bat as well as with the ball. In the match against the Minor Counties, skipper Vizzy kept changing Amarnath’s batting order repeatedly. Amarnath, all padded-up and ready to bat, was fuming at the insulting scenario. He threw down his bat and used some choicest Punjabi slang.

The manager Brittain-Jones and the captain Vizzy made a big hue and cry over the incident and ordered Amarnath to pack his bag and go back to India! Some well-meaning players approached the captain and the manager to forgive the young and impressionable Amarnath. But to no avail. He was sent back from the tour just prior to the start of the Test series. The first Test cricketer to face such humiliation. Later BCCI absolved Lala Amarnath of all charges and he was back in the India team.

While Mushtaq Ali and Vijay Merchant were involved in a big opening partnership in the Manchester Test and going great guns, skipper Vizzy actually requested Mushtaq to run out Merchant! Mushtaq, of course, declined to carry out the strange request. In the process he lost out on a gold-plated wrist watch as gift from Vizzy!

Just before the 3^rd and final Test at the Oval, skipper Vizzy offered a Test place to whoever would abuse and insult his main player CK Nayudu in public! Fast bowler Baqa Jilani took up the offer, gave a mouthful to CK Nayudu at the breakfast table on the opening day of the Test match and went on to make his debut at the Oval. Shute Banerjee, a man of strict principles, with far superior performance on the tour, was omitted from the XI because he did not curse and humiliate CK!

This was Indian cricket at one time. Two extremes running parallel to one another. Our cricket historians have not bothered to herald the magnanimous, selfless gesture of Natwarsinhji but have remembered Vizzy’s disgraceful nature! Strange are the ways of cricket and cricketers in India.

However in all fairness to Vizzy, we must readily acknowledge his contribution to Indian cricket. He was a very devoted patron of cricket. He was genuinely devoted towards the game. He had his own team and organized matches in various cities. Spent generously on cricket and cricketers.  Even went to the extent of inviting Sir Jack Hobbs and Herbert Sutcliffe to India to play for his invitational team around the sub-continent.

But the desire to manipulate to fulfil his cherished dream – the ambition to lead India – spoilt the man’s reputation for ever. He should have been rational enough to realize that he did not even deserve to be in the India Test team, far less to be the captain. His enormous influence helped him to become the cricket captain of India!

The national selectors at the time were all prominent cricketers: ‘commoner’ HD Kanga and the two ‘royals’ Iftikar Ali Khan Pataudi and KS Duleepsinhji. They certainly did not do justice to the responsibility placed on them. Highly prejudiced and insensitive, they were. They omitted deserving players to include mediocre cricketers thereby weakened the national team. Readers who feel Test players would make capable selectors, take note. One’s integrity is far more important than one’s cricket ability to become an unbiased selector.

In later years Vizzy was a constant factor on All India Radio as a commentator. Well-versed in the history of cricket and its folklore, Vizzy regaled his listeners with his remarkable memory.

I personally would prefer to remember Vizzy as a great patron of Indian cricket and as an erudite commentator. How I wish he had gone with the 1936 Indian team to England as manager and not as captain.

Ranji’s Strange Behaviour

Ranji never played a Christian stroke in his life. So said Neville Cardus. True it was. The Indian prince’s batsmanship had all the charms of Oriental mysticism. The bat was his wand as he mesmerized England, both spectators and oppositions, with his wristy elegance.

At a time when the top batters would play the ball mainly to the off-side as the ‘Champion’ WG Grace would do with his customary mastery, the graceful, lissome figure would gently caress the ball from outside the off-stump to the untenanted areas on the leg-side. It was magical.

How did he do it with a perpendicular-held bat? With a cross bat, we understand. But how with a bat held straight? He was the first to use the pace of the ball to glance it between the fine-leg and square-leg regions. The fluidity of his steely wrists gave the art of batsmanship a new dimension.

Mustachioed and ebony of complexion, the traits of his race were distinctly apparent in this conjuror’s every step. Medium of height, shining black hair thinning on the temples the man looked every inch an Oriental. Yet he was giving the white man a lesson in effortless stroke execution at the white man’s own sport. Who is he? What are his antecedents? How is he lighting up our grey skies with his golden streak? These were the queries in the minds of cricket followers from Yorkshire to Sussex.

Kumar Shri Ranjitsinhji was the adopted son of the raja of Nawanagar, who had no male heir to his throne. Following the best possible education on offer in India, Ranji went to England for further studies with his school headmaster in tow. Cambridge was the university chosen.

The climate and the food disagreed with the prince brought up in India. He was overwhelmed by the liberal western culture that he daily encountered. Perplexed he was by the differences. After the initial hiccups, he however found his métier in the game of cricket. He had played a little at school in India but in England in the game of cricket he found an ideal escape route from the dreary routine of social life.

His soft features belied his determination. He spent hours practicing at the nets. The young prince went for the trials of the Cambridge University cricket team. But returned disappointed as cricketers superior in ability got the nod ahead of him. He realized that he would have to work really hard if he wanted to be in the first XI. And that is exactly what he did.

He appointed professional coaches, who would bowl to him for hours against payment. Never tried to copy WG Grace or Arthur Shrewsbury, the role models at the time. Very sensibly he developed a distinctive style of his own. He did not go for power; he went for precision. He used his wrists more than he used his forearms. While others tried to play on the off side, he preferred to play on the leg side. He picked up the tenets of back-foot play from WG but avoided the cross-batted shots.

 Ranji’s mastery was quickly fathomed, selected for Cambridge, invited to play for Sussex and finally for England in the Manchester Test in 1896 against Australia. He began his Test career with a century for England against Australia. He sent spectators and the media into raptures. They were amazed to see the man’s effortless mastery over pace and spin. No conditions would upset him. No opposition would overawe him.

He was majestic in whatever he did. He had all the Oriental flavor of mysticism around him. Silk shirt fluttering in the breeze, he gave the impression of effortless ease. His strokes conveyed the essence and not the effort. He strode supreme and earned universal admiration. Ranjitsinhji, who later became the Jamsahib of Nawanagar, was popularly known as ‘Smith’ during his Cambridge University days.

Unfortunately for Indian cricket, Ranji had no time for his motherland. He had a very poor opinion of Indian cricket and Indian cricketers. He played a few matches in India but never showed any interest in promoting the game here. At Eden Gardens he once played a match as well as another at Natore Park in the Picnic Garden district of Ballygunge. Even the grand exploits on English soil of Mehellasha Pavri and Palvankar Balloo, who were so highly rated by discerning British critics, did not quite wake up Ranji from his stupor.

He seemed quite oblivious to the progress that was happening in India. In fact the magnificent all-rounder Amar Singh Ladla was from Nawanagar, Ranji’s own territory, yet the grand ol’ man never offered even any words of encouragement to him. Ranji’s strange behaviour in relation to Indian cricket defied all logic. Why was the great cricketer so adamant in his opposition to the march of Indian cricket? No one will ever know.

When Ranjitsinhji’s nephew, Duleepsinhji – another outstanding batsman – was invited to play for India in 1932, it was reported that Ranji flatly refused to give permission by saying that Duleep would not play as he was an English test cricketer!

 Yes, Duleepsinhji made his debut for England against South Africa in 1929 and later scored a century against Australia at Lord’s the following summer.  He could have easily served his motherland in India’s early days at test cricket in the 1930s. But he had no desire to defy the dictates of his stern uncle, whom he obviously idolized.

When the inauguration of the national championship was being discussed at the BCCI meeting, the Maharaja of Patiala Bhupendrasingh announced that he would donate the trophy and the trophy would be named after Ranjitsinhji, who had just expired. The magnanimity of Patiala and the BCCI members of the time need to be acknowledged.

 It was indeed a grand gesture to honour the magnificent batsman who first put India on the world cricket map. It was also ironical that a man who never encouraged Indian cricket or Indian cricketers would be given the highest possible acclaim. Strange are the ways of Indian cricket. Stranger still was the conduct of Ranji. Why was he against Indian cricket will never be fathomed.

Unique personality of MS Dhoni

In 2004 the BCCI began a system by which young talented cricketers around the country would be identified and short-listed. The idea germinated from the fertile brain of Makarand Waingankar, a freelance journalist from Mumbai. Makarand, very rightly, believed that young players from the distant corners of the country were being neglected by the junior and senior national selectors.

Former first-class cricketers were appointed by the BCCI to watch every representative match and to inform the Board of potential talents. PC Poddar and I travelled to Jamshedpur to watch the players in action in the one-day senior inter-state championship in January 2004.

After watching our respective allotted matches at the end of the first day, PC Poddar and I were exchanging notes when he confided, “Raju, today I saw a young man hitting the ball with awesome power. Never before have I seen anybody hitting a ball so hard. Tomorrow have a good look at the Bihar opener with long hair.” Coming from a man of Poddar’s deep knowledge and wide experience, I was very curious to see the player.

Next morning, as I alighted near the Keenan Stadium pavilion gate, I saw a long-haired, strong lad in his mid-20s wearing a tight tee-shirt and denims park his motor cycle. Instantly two dogs came towards him and he brought out some biscuits from his pocket to feed them. The young man’s affection for the road-side canines bowled me over completely.

I asked the Bihar coach, if he was the opener who hit the ball very hard. He replied, “In my Bihar team everybody hits the ball hard. But this boy from Ranchi is an exceptionally hard hitter. He is playing first-class cricket for about 4 years. No one has ever taken any notice of him yet. Why are you so keen to know about him?” By the end of the day, when he had scored just about 40 runs, I realized that I had seen an uncut diamond.

That January 2004 evening both Poddar and I sent our report to the chief Talent Resource Development Officer (TRDO), Dilip Vengsarkar, specifically mentioning the immense power of the young man’s strokes. I wrote, “…his exceptional power and positive approach can demolish any bowling attack. He should be looked at without delay.” As it transpired, BCCI took serious note of the report and the career graph of a young talent from a neglected part of India took an upward curve within a few months.

Author Gulu Ezekiel wrote of the incident in his book Captain Cool in 2008. Later Makarand Waingankar mentioned the significant event in various articles in The Hindu to highlight the success of the talent-scouting system of BCCI. Other sports in India would do well to follow a similar scheme to unearth talents from the obscure corners of the country.

Dhoni’s career graph is a unique case in Indian cricket. Hailing from a family of very modest financial background, he had little option but to accept whatever job came his way. The Indian Railways gave him a job based at Kharagpur in Bengal but, true to tradition, decided that a man from the eastern region would not be good enough for the all-India Railways cricket team!

The Railways recruited him for his cricket ability, yet it appeared they had no faith in their own choice! The Railway employee Dhoni never got a look in from the very people who were given the responsibility to handle the Railway cricket team.

As disappointing were the selectors of East Zone. Although he had already played for no less than 4 years for Bihar in first-class cricket, not one selector – zonal or national – ever thought that this man had any exceptional ability in him! Such were the former cricketers who were entrusted with the job to select talent. Based at Kharagpur in Bengal, he could have been selected for Bengal as well. But no selector from Bengal from 1996 to 2003 ever thought of him.

The tough, talented youth had little exposure to the ‘big names’ of Indian cricket when he was at Ranchi and Jamshedpur. He picked up the finer points from various sources as he went along without ever forgetting his first school coach, “Banerjee Sir” as Dhoni still most respectfully addresses him. He kept his ears and eyes open in the India dressing room to observe what Tendulkar and Dravid were doing to prepare themselves for the battles ahead. Off the field, his cool and composed personality was just the right ingredient required for a person craving to learn the ways of the world.

Reams have been devoted to his exceptional abilities. I shall not repeat those to bore my readers. But I would like to relate that never before have we had a leader in India as exemplary as the man from Ranchi. He led India to the inaugural T20 world cup trophy with all the top names of Indian cricket missing! A young set of keen lads helped the relaxed captain to bring off one victory after another. Before leading India, did Dhoni ever lead a cricket team?  Honestly, I doubt it.

The magnificent man went on lead India to the world ODI title. As if these crowns were not enough, Dhoni led India to become the numero uno in the Test rankings. No other Indian captain has been able to match these statistical highlights.

Despite such magnificent achievements, the cool and composed man still remains as modest and accessible as he was two decades back when he was making his debut in first-class cricket. Far from stooping to gamesmanship, he was the epitome of the ‘spirit of cricket’ concept. His classic calling back of Ian Bell in England will forever remain a great lesson in sportsmanship.

Never took advantage of his position. Never promoted players of his choice. He respected the selectors and allowed them to do their job. Never got involved with any publicity stunts. Never bothered to get into conflicts and controversies. Detested sledging and avoided verbal duels. Never resorted to any one-upmanship.

His persona was and still is such that people consider him to be the leader, whether he is formally leading the team or not. A unique leader, if ever there was one.

 

     

       Sad fate of BB Nimbalkar

Last month we had discussed the sacrifice and the magnanimity of three Indian cricketers who belonged to royal families. Today we shall have a close at another one belonging to the other extreme.

The small territory of Kathiawar based in the western part of India in the Gujarat peninsula had a ruler whose heart was as small as the land he governed. He was known as the Takore Sahab of Rajkot, Pradumansinhji.

Kathiawar was included among the teams for the Ranji Trophy championship in the season 1948-49. The Kathiawar cricket team travelled to Poona to play against the might of Maharashtra at the Poona Gymkhana ground, which was well-known to be an ideal surface for batsmen. Bowlers rarely got any assistance from the pitch.

Winning the toss, the Kathiawar captain Pradumansinhji decided to take the first strike. Kathiawar scored a decent total of 236, which included a dashing 77 by the skipper.

When Maharashtra came to bat one could feel the difference in strength and strategy between the two teams. While the Kathiawaris appeared disoriented and the leadership hesitant, Maharashtra adopted the no-nonsense approach as exemplified by their mentor-captain-guru combined, Prof Deodhar.

The two openers, MR Rege and Kamal Bhandarkar attacked from the beginning and raced to 81 when Rege left. Now, the prolific Ranji Trophy run-getter BB Nimbalkar appeared on the scene with his trademark handkerchief around his neck.

Bhandarkar and Nimbalkar added a record score of 455 runs for the 2^nd wicket in just 300 minutes. After Bhandarkar (205) left, Bhao Sahab Nimbalkar continued with his judicious stroke-play. When Nimbalkar’s individual score had reached 443, the Kathiawar captain decided that they would concede the match!

Nimbalkar was on 443 just 9 runs short of Don Bradman’s the then world record of 452. It was a most unsportsmanlike decision on the part of the Kathiawar captain, Pradumansinhji, who happened to be a distant relative of Ranjitsinhji.

Nimbalkar was denied a world record by his own countryman. It appears that so enamoured was Pradumansinhji by the supposed ‘superiority’ of white-skinned people that he did not want a fellow Indian to overhaul the white man’s achievement.

***

PG Wodehouse and Cricket             

The creator of ‘Jeeves’ was an ardent cricket fan. This might not be a surprise considering that Wodehouse was an Englishman and was up at Dulwich College, an English public school, at the turn of the 19^th century.

But the link between England’s arguably greatest comic writer and England’s national passion runs much closer than that. PGW actually appeared in flannels no less than six times at the Lord’s cricket ground. In fact, his first captain at the cricketing Mecca was none other than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes.

Pelham Grenville Wodehouse was knighted in 1975, long overdue at the age of 93. He died just 45 days later. Perhaps the comical irony of the situation overpowered him. He adored the game just as he adorned literature. He needed no title. The burden of the award literally took away the simple pleasures of life that he loved and treasured.

PGW gave birth to Jeeves, the patron saint of all butlers in English literature. The name ‘Jeeves’ he pilfered from that of a Warwickshire county cricketer, who had lost his life at war in 1916 in France. However Wodehouse, typical of his whimsicality, always maintained that he saw Jeeves playing for Gloucestershire!

He played regularly for Dulwich College as a medium pacer. He once observed that while he began with the new ball, from the other end bowled Knox, the future Test cricketer. And then in his self-deprecating style added, “Yes, Knox was 10 at the time.” Actually, Wodehouse was 18 and Knox 15.

Later even when he had settled in USA, his attention was never diverted from his juvenile passion. He kept in touch with cricket, particularly English university and county cricket, through journals and newspapers and the books that John Arlott, the doyen of cricket commentators, would send him.

References to cricket were regularly seen in his writings. But a touch ironical was his utterance in an interview to BBC in 1975 where he mentioned that he preferred baseball to cricket! Was this a typical wodehousian sense of dry humour? Or, was it for real?  This could not have been his actual feelings. For PGW was totally engrossed with cricket. So much so that even in USA he was a regular at the cricket meets at the Hollywood Cricket Club in Hollywood where famous actors such as Charles Aubrey Smith (former England Test cricketer) and Boris Karloff dominated and entertained.

However, when asked why did he prefer baseball to cricket, PGW answered that at cricket you may go to the ground and find your favourite team fielding the whole day, whereas at baseball you are certain to see them perform and get an immediate result as well.

Nevertheless for a man with such deep-roots in traditional cricket, it is difficult to digest that he actually thought the shorter version was more to his liking. If this be really his actual view of cricket, then most surely he would have welcomed Twenty 20 cricket with open arms.

In Hollywood in the mid-thirties he enjoyed his conversations with Gubby Allen, the then England captain, particularly about the exploits of Larwood and Jardine in the ‘bodyline’ series of 1932-33. Wodehouse did not come in touch with Bradman who had spent his honeymoon playing 4 one-day matches in Hollywood with Arthur Mailey’s team in August 1932. Most unfortunately, Wodehouse was not present in any of the fixtures and so two of the greatest entertainers never did come face to face.

Cricket and literature have always been bedfellows: subtlety and grace, form and content influenced one another. The leisurely pattern of the game attracted the poet and the novelist. The apparel and the manner of the players gave cricket an elevated position in the eyes of the sensitive writers. In cricket, they found courage and character; fortitude and intelligence; modesty and charm. The twists and the turns of the long drawn affair developed a special affinity towards cricket.

Wodehouse’s prolific work contained numerous references to cricket, its technicalities, its tactics. Decades before his death when one-day cricket and run-restrictive bowling were not in fashion, the highly knowledgeable Wodehouse mentioned, “... six yorkers per over and can’t be scored off.” Even today, with T20 matches proliferating, not many coaches realize the importance of this tactical acumen.

Wodehouse has written on cricket with deep interest, wide knowledge and ardent feelings. Revealing a distinctive style of his own: the laid back approach of a sensitive, enquiring, observant mind. No sensationalism clouded his vision; no excitement rattled his composure. He was always his own man. An elegant writer of fluid style. His wit is typically dry British humour, but with a dash of originality that elevates him beyond the realms of the humourous story-tellers.

In 1941 he was in an internment camp in Upper Silesia. At the time he was 59, but the love for cricket still raged. Wodehouse surprised his guards and other inmates as he turned his arm to bowl slow leg spin. His batting never really flowered. He said that he was very consistent with zero as his favourite score! He further added, “I would have made a century if the boundaries had been closer.”

Ramanathan Krishnan, India’s best-ever tennis player.

In the 1960s the distinction between the amateurs and the professionals in tennis was very thoroughly followed. The professionals would go around the world playing in their own circuit, which was unofficially known as the ‘Jack Kramer Circus’. Top pros of the period were Pancho Gonsalves, Lew Hoad and Ken Rosewall.

 On the other hand the doors to Wimbledon and Davis Cup as well as the other prominent tennis championships were the exclusive prerogative of the amateurs. The top amateurs of the time were not inferior to these pros.

 In fact the best of amateurs, when they converted themselves to ‘professional’ status, invariably were among the best of pros as well. Men like Rod Laver, Roy Emerson, Manuel Santana and Neale Fraser dominated the amateur tennis scenario in the 1960s.

In such a heady atmosphere India too had a representative, Ramanathan Krishnan. He was very deservingly ranked world number 4 at the time by virtue of recording regular victories against the best of oppositions in international championships all over the world. No other Indian has ever been ranked as high as maestro ‘Krish’.

 Krishnan’s strength lay in his court craft and temperament. With a tennis racquet in hand, he gave the impression of being a sorcerer with a magic wand. He never seemed to hurt the ball, but merely caress it. At a time when players were concentrating hard on a booming service and power-play, Krishnan was an outstanding exception. He relied on soft touches and placements. His approach was not of an aggressive killer, but of a silent sage out to prove everybody wrong by his sacred touch.

Even his physique defied the accepted norms. He was not lean and athletic. Nor did he possess the tough appearance of a champion sportsman. No bulging muscles protruded; nor did the jaws square up to size up an opponent.

Rather Ramanathan Krishnan’s big, burly figure created an impression of a contented man in retirement. Content he certainly was with his craft and confidence, with his skill and strategy. But he himself was in no kind of retirement. On the contrary, he would be active enough to send others into a dizzy form of reverie.

Amazing shots from improbable angles and amazing turnarounds from almost lost causes were his forte. From 2 sets down, the way he defeated Thomas Koch of Brazil in a Davis Cup encounter at Calcutta’s South Club lawns is still spoken of with awe by all those who were fortunate to get a seat in the packed stands at Woodburn Park.

Born in Chennai on 11^th April, 1937, he learnt the nuances of the game while a student at Loyola College. In 1954 he won the Junior Wimbledon title by beating Ashley Cooper, who was to win the Senior Wimbledon crown in 1958.

Krishnan had the habit of defeating the very best of international players in almost all major championships. But the Wimbledon title eluded him forever. Twice he reached the semi final at Wimbledon, only to lose to the ultimate winner on both occasions. Ironically he had defeated both the winners, Fraser and Laver, at the Queen’s Club just days prior to the respective Wimbledon championships.

 No Indian player, before or since, has been ranked higher than he was in the international rankings. Unfortunately in his time tennis had not become an Olympic sports discipline. Krishnan would have walked away with Olympic medals galore. But then can one fight one’s own destiny?

Initially with Naresh Kumar, he formed a deadly doubles combination, which did wonders for India. Later he combined with the highly talented Jaideep Mukerjea and brought off magnificent victories. Especially the one against the world number one pair of John Newcombe and Tony Roche.

This brilliant victory was achieved in the Davis Cup challenge round in 1966 in the opponent’s own lair, Australia. Krishnan along with Naresh Kumar, Jaideep Mukherjea and Premjit Lal were model-sportsmen in court craft and in conduct on and off the field.

Apart from the man’s superb court skills, it was his bearing that left a permanent imprint etched in the minds of tennis followers the world over. Cool and composed, his laid back approach was distinctively different from the rest. The execution of his shots had a remarkable ring of beauty attached to it. The beauty of simplicity.

Whatever he did, he did with an innate sense of ease. Nothing and nobody could disrupt this unique style of his. His intelligent approach, his strategic planning, his constantly evolving tactics made him a thorough professional in the high-flying amateur arena of tennis.  Truly, a remarkable artist. A champion in a different mould.

Never needed publicity agents, influential parents or physical trainers. Never fought with partners on or off the courts. His conduct and speech reflected marital bliss. The wide reach of his racquet never bothered to reach the media moghuls. He was content in his own cocoon of skills and devotion.

Ramanathan Krishnan proved to the world of sports that even the softest of gentlemen can overcome the gamesmanship of sly opponents; that a vegetarian diet was no impediment to sporting success; that one does not need media support to become a champion. He was a rare sportsman. A rare human being. Shall we see his like again?