Who’s the greatest cricketer on Earth or Mars?
Sobers as chief guest was a huge attraction. Read more
from Cricinfo….
by Ayaz Memom, Cricinfo
I went to a reunion and felicitation of Ajit Wadekar’s
1971 team last Thursday
at Mumbai’s Nehru Centre with mixed feelings. The
presence of Sir Garfield
Sobers as chief guest was a huge attraction, but only
a day earlier a press
conference at which he spoke seemed to have been
afflicted by India’s current
rage: finding out who the greatest batsman in the game
has been.
Sobers, provoked into the debate, had rated Gavaskar
ahead of Tendulkar,
primarily because he had played against Gavaskar and
seen him excel in an era of
uncovered wickets and little protective gear against
some of the most fearsome
bowlers. Sobers also said Tendulkar had met every
expectation one could have of
a batsman, but that had been lost in the din. Was this
event going to be an
extension of a debate that was rapidly becoming
farcical?
Thankfully it wasn’t. The evening had the right mix of
nostalgia, pathos and
cricket, even if it was a tad long-drawn. Most of the
players were there
(barring Sunil Gavaskar, G Viswanath and Govindraj,
who were not for varying
reasons), and to get the wives of Dilip Sardesai,
Ashok Mankad, Eknath Solkar,
ML Jaisimha and P Krishnamurthy – all deceased – to
fill in for their husbands
was a terrific thought; and to get Sobers to be chief
guest was a brainwave. The
presence of Sachin Tendulkar, MS Dhoni and Zaheer Khan
lent the evening not just
contemporary star value but also relevance.
This was brought out eloquently by Tendulkar, who
while accepting a bat signed
by the 1971 team, was to point out how he was beholden
to the heroes of the past
because each era serves as a fountainhead for the
succeeding one. With so much
star value and perspective on offer, it seemed
somewhat amiss that the
celebration of 40 years of arguably India’s best phase
in cricket was organised
by private initiative, rather than by the BCCI.
But we’ll let that pass. The evening was evocative and
made more memorable by
Sobers’ presence. Few had expected him to come to
India for this – and he
clearly didn’t expect so many people to come for an
event for this nature. “I’ve
never spoken in front of so many people,” he told the
large, appreciative
audience. Later he was to repeat what he has said so
often in the past: “I’d
never played in front of such large crowds as in
India. That was a unique
experience.”
For those who had seen him here in his playing days,
Sobers was a unique
experience too, and Thursday’s event sent me hurtling
back almost half a
century. One of the earliest Test matches I can recall
is between India and West
Indies at the Brabourne Stadium in 1966, and though
Rohan Kanhai was my hero
then, it was Sobers who left a lasting impression. Two
half-centuries, the
second a blistering one to finish the match in time
for an afternoon at the
racecourse (as he was to confess later), five wickets
and three catches were
terrific to watch. But what made a greater impact on
an 11-year-old’s mind was
an act of sportsmanship of the sort seen rarely then.
Like Mandela in his sunset years, Sobers also
remains forthright and sharp
of memory. Yet he also appears benignly tolerant
of mortals and is filled
with compassion and humour, often
self-deprecatory
Budhi Kunderan, India’s wicketkeeper, was declared
caught in the leg trap – when
still in single figures, if I remember correctly – and
had started his walk back
to the dressing room when Sobers signalled to the
umpire that he had not taken
the catch cleanly. There was a collective gasp,
followed by applause, from the
packed stadium. Kunderan went on to make a belligerent
79, but the hero of the
day was the West Indies captain.
Between 1966 and Thursday last, I met Sir Garry twice,
both times in South
Africa. In 1991 he was invited to Johannesburg (along
with Gavaskar, Richie
Benaud and a handful of journalists) by Dr Ali Bacher,
who wanted to impress on
the world that racial integration in cricket was
underway. Nelson Mandela had
recently been released from jail and was shortly to
begin the ANC’s campaign for
political power in the country. Getting a cricketing
legend like Sobers was a
coup, and he was pretty much the toast of the touring
party. I remember him from
then as a man of ready wit, not reluctant to use his
tongue like a whiplash if
necessary to drive home a point, in matters of cricket
or otherwise.
In 2003, during the World Cup, Sobers was again in
South Africa. I bumped into
him on a few occasions, and he hardly looked his
ebullient self. The attention
then was pretty much on the current stars, but that
was not why he appeared a
little grumpy. He was, I learnt, in some pain from
wobbly knees. A more enduring
memory of 2003 is of Bacher talking of Mandela and
Sobers, his two heroes, in
the same breath several times.
Perhaps this is subliminal, but somehow I saw a touch
of Mandela in Sobers on
Thursday. Tall and lissome as the venerated South
African leader, Sobers has a
similar similar feline grace in his gait, despite the
unmistakable hobbling that
decades-long arthritis can cause. There is a natural
athleticism in both, which
age cannot wither. Sobers’ curly hair, like Mandela’s,
is still intact, though
now almost white. Both have a charismatic presence.
But it is in demeanour that the resemblance becomes
more pertinent. Like Mandela
in his sunset years, Sobers also remains forthright
and sharp of memory. Yet he
also appears benignly tolerant of mortals and is
filled with compassion and
humour, often self-deprecatory, of the sort that can
come from somebody who has
not only traversed the rigour of living long but also
understood the game of
life with all its vicissitudes.
Much of this was evident during the felicitation of
“Wadekar’s Warriors”. Sobers
not only seemed to remember almost every minute of the
1971 series in minute
detail, he also regaled the audience with sharply
defined anecdotes, all laced
with humour and generosity, about the Indian players.
It was evident that
Wadekar, Chandu Borde, Bapu Nadkarni, Bishan Bedi,
Srinivas Venkataraghavan,
Erapalli Prasanna, Farrokh Engineer, Salim Durani,
Abbas Ali Baig, Syed Kirmani,
Rusi Jeejeebhoy, all hero-worshipped him. But Sobers
calibrated the tenor of the
proceedings to shift the spotlight on to the Indians
wherever possible.
Attack without stepping out of the crease?
Been there, done that ©
The Cricketer International
It was in the insights that interspersed the banter
and bonhomie of the evening
that Sobers’ mighty understanding of cricket came
through clearly, and found an
eager audience, not just in the hundreds of fans, but
also Tendulkar, Dhoni and
Zaheer. Sobers spoke delectably, and with authority,
on the virtues of slow
bowling, of how variations in flight to deceive
batsmen are important, which was
what, he said, made both Prasanna and Bedi, for
example, great.
On batsmanship, he said a sound defence was crucial,
for the attacking strokes
become a natural extension of defence. On technique,
as conventionally
understood, he was sceptical; what works for a batsman
is the best technique for
him, he said. He was clear, however, that playing with
the bat rather than the
pad was crucial, not just for safeguarding your wicket
but also for entertaining
the spectators.
Sobers spoke of how his approach to batting – and, by
extension, cricket – had
been shaped by Sir Frank Worrell on the 1961 tour of
Australia. “If it’s a
half-volley, I want it hit for four, not pushed
defensively,” Worrell told them
on the eve of the series. Cammie Smith, Sobers
recounted, hit his first ball, a
half-volley, straight to the only fielder at cover and
came back smiling into
the dressing room – to no admonishment from his
skipper.
Sobers also explained why he rarely stepped out to
bowlers despite being an
attacking batsman. “I never had to,” he said. “I used
my height to reach the
length of the ball, or the width of the crease in
going right back if necessary
if the length was too short. As a kid, when I got
stumped I would be punished. I
decided then that the turf between the crease and the
stumps belongs to me, I
won’t give it away.”
That didn’t stop Sobers from becoming the first
batsman to hit six sixes in an
over – off the hapless Malcolm Nash in 1968 – at least
for one of which he
stepped out to smite the ball over the fence. “I never
played for records,” said
Sobers, “but after hitting five, I sure as hell wanted
to hit the sixth ball for
six.” That sensational over gave Sobers a place in
history. “But while the
record was mine, Nash made all the money,” he joked.
“Nash told me that without
him, the record would have been impossible.”
Several clips played that evening – including his
century in the Tied Test, his
254 against a rampaging Dennis Lillee in 1972, his six
sixes, his bowling in
three different speeds and styles, and his sharp
catching – showcased his
outstanding all-round talent.
While the debate about who has been the greatest
batsman of all time gathers
steam, discussion on who has been the most skilled
cricketer of all time is
misplaced. Has there been anyone like Sir Garfield
Sobers? rds, Graeme
Pollock, Gavaskar are pre-helmet (can’t think of
a better term) era
greats, Sachin/Lara/Ponting are post helmet era
greats. Each era had its
advantages & disadvantages -
Bradman/Sobers/Richards/Gavaskar era’s LBW
rules were easier than current as was batting
harder gainst pace bowlers
without adequate PPE (personal protective
equipment) than the current.
Bats were not so light and having lesser tonking
power but body wear and
tear was lesser as was the competition and
efforts to make a living.