Sir Everton's remarkable tale

Last Tuesday evening in Trinidad, around 50 people gathered to have Sir Everton Weekes sign copies of his book, Mastering the Craft, and to share cocktails with the legendary cricketer.

There was an intimacy about the gathering, comprising as it did, mainly those of his generation and the one after, members of the West Indies glory days cognoscenti in one way or the other.

Sir Everton's book was selected as required reading for the compulsory Caribbean Civilisation course at the St Augustine Campus of the University of the West Indies. It was a brilliant choice that represented a step in the right direction in terms of the kind of education we offer our youth, and Dr John Campbell, course coordinator, must be commended for this step.

Sir Everton was in Trinidad to talk with students of the course, giving them an opportunity to discuss issues raised within the book and to talk generally about West Indies cricket. He reported satisfaction with the nature of that discourse, on the issues raised, and mentioned something that seemed startling until it sunk in how common it might possibly be.

One student, he related, around 19 or so, said he had never read a book in its entirety, but he had been so gripped by Sir Everton's story that he read it from cover to cover. There was a collective gasp as Sir Everton related this – it had to be taken philosophically to stomach the implications – as all pondered this abandonment of the culture of reading. But on the other hand, it is all the more reason to celebrate Dr Campbell's foresight in making it compulsory reading.

The book itself is a remarkable tale that paints a vivid social history of Barbadian life, and Sir Everton's struggles to do what he wanted most to do at the highest levels possible could easily have left him bitter. But as Keith Smith, the real doyen of West Indian newspaper writers, pointed out, there is no trace of rancour in this story, evidence of the genuinely exemplary stature of this finely tuned man.

Smith, who has himself written extensively on our cricket for decades, declared that by the time he had read the first few chapters of the book, he knew exactly what was wrong with West Indies cricket and for that insight alone this book deserves a place as one of the finest expositions of its innards in all its complexity.

And so simply is it told! There is nothing to labour over, the conversational nature a reflection of the ease with which Sir Everton and Sir Hilary Beckles must have communed – raconteur and scribe – to transform this remarkable story from a memory into something that you and I can share and learn from.

Its simplicity cannot mask the intelligence and deep decency that is strikingly evident throughout the tale. Just as he calculated that there were more benefits to him to play the ball along the ground than to go for the flamboyant airbornes, so Sir Everton lived his cricket life. He was not one for strutting about, but he walked with grace, and so is his tale told. It is an inspiring document with a strong message, one that is not bludgeoned into the skull, but subtly nuanced with finesse: cricket is a game requiring intelligence.

You can't make runs if you lose your wicket, he reminded us, and you won't keep your wicket if you don't learn how to read the ball. He studied the game, he applied what he knew to it and to the life he lived outside it. His two partners in the triumvirate were offered more accolades in their lifetimes, but for many, Sir Everton was the batsman of their heart. He's kept the ball down to earth, and he hasn't yet lost his wicket.

Expect more runs from this wonderful human being.