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Excerpt from "Blasting For Runs"

Put it all down to the calypso spirit in which the West Indians love to play their cricket. Or the fact that I've had no coaching whatsoever from the day I was born on a little sugar plantation called Port Mourant in British Guiana thirty years ago.
The way I see it I'm paid to hit any and every bowler as hard and as far as I can. Nobody said anything about how I have to do it.

Keith Miller, Australia's world-class quickie, got a bit upset the way a green 19-year-old was making a fool of the cricket manuals during the Aussies triumphant tour of the West Indies back in 1955. I was a relatively new boy in the British Guiana side that tackled the Aussies at Georgetown that day. Miller was bowling his big outswingers and I was clouting them regularly to the square leg boundary.

Nobody told me that I shouldn't do it—that I was committing the batsman's biggest sin by hitting across the ball. This was my favourite shot and it brought me a heap of runs. Big Keith was completely flummoxed. He knew the answer to every trick in the book but I wasn't playing by the rules. The madder he got the more I innocently pulled him to the fence.

I piled up a fair old 51 to top score with the great Clyde Walcott and saved us from being completely wiped out.

At a party after the match Miller came up to me with a rueful grin, wagged an accusing finger, and said: "The next time you play a shot like that kid you'll be in trouble." Perhaps I should have taken his warning but I felt it was a pity to change when I was getting a few runs.

The Gupte Incident (from Blasting For Runs)

India's Subhash Gupte is the greatest leg spinner I have ever played against—a man with enough mystic powers to perform the Indian rope trick. We didn't exactly hit it off on our first meeting during the West Indies tour of India in 1958. Indeed the whole thing began to take on the proportions of a personal feud.

Gupte was India's golden boy, the only real world-class player they had. In the first Test I presented him with his 100th Test wicket when had had me snapped by Roy for 22 in the second innings. In the next Test at Kanpur he bowled me neck and crop for a blob and as we came in for tea he sauntered up to me and sneered: "Hello rabbit." The jibe brought a giggle from the rest of the players in earshot and set my blood boiling.

I managed to mumble through clenched teeth: "Just you wait until next time. I'll get after you." Obviously Gupte felt that by calling me a rabbit in front of the others he would destroy the confidence I had in myself and gain the whip hand for the rest of the tour. It's common enough among cricketers. The psychological weapon is as deadly as any yorker or vicious leg break in some cases.

I was reasonably satisfied with my 43 in the second knock but it was not until we moved on to Calcutta for the third Test that the rabbit turned. Gary Sobers went down with stomach trouble so I batted at No. 3—and by the end of the day was 203 not out. I belted 34 boundaries in a stay of just under five hours and shared an unbroken fourth wicket stand of 179 in 144 minutes with Basil Butcher. My century, made in 132 minutes, was the quickest of the series.

The next day I scythed my way to 256 unaware that I had topped Frank Worrell's record Test score against India-237 in Kingston. This still stands as my highest Test knock today.

The President of India Dr. Rajendra Prasad made a nice gesture presenting me with a stuffed tiger's head in appreciation of what he called "a fine innings played in the right spirit" but mastering Gupte was my real prize. I shipped the tiger's head home in a huge box and today it hangs proudly in my mother's home in British Guiana. I must add how very generous the Indians are in honoring their sportsmen—Gupte got a tiger's skin for taking nine wickets in the second Test.

Since those early flare-ups I've got to know the cagey Gupte fairly well and what happened is all water under the bridge now. He was banned from India's tour of the West Indies in 1962 because of some disciplinary action taken against him during the series with England, but he still made the trip himself and eventually married a West Indies girl. He now lives in Trinidad with his wife—and tiger's skin.

The Tied Test, by Kanhai (from Blasting For Runs)

The batsman had crossed so Australia needed three runs with three balls to do it. Meckiff, impassive, swished Hall away to the square leg outfield with a shot that strictly belonged to the golf course. Even as the ball sailed into the setting sun my shoulders drooped. This was a four to be sure.

But somehow the ball tired before Conrad Hunte, running as though his life depended on it. As he stooped and picked up a foot inside the boundary the batsmen were turning for the third and winning run.

To this day I can picture the throw. From 90 yards away the ball flew low and straight to Alexander. A fraction to the left or right and Australia would have won. But, no. Alexander hadn't to stir a muscle in collecting the ball and he splattered the stumps with Grout diving like an Olympic springboard champion for the crease.

Grout rose from the dust to a mighty roar that told him this time he hadn't made it. The scores were level at 737 runs all. And two balls remained.

Hall, tired to the point of exhaustion, pitched the ball in line with the middle and leg stumps and Kline played it with the full meat of the bat to forward square-leg. The crowd went berserk as the batsman set off on the victory run. From about 12 yards, with only one stump showing to him, Joe Solomon swooped one-handed and threw. Umpire Hoy's finger reached for the sky as the stumps keeled over.

Had there ever been such drama? Had there ever been three such miraculous throws?
The crowd swarmed over the oval and we danced like little schoolboys delirious with joy. Benaud came out to greet us, draped an arm around Worrell's shoulder, and the two gladiators walked off into history.

Everything was pandemonium. The Aussies poured into our dressing-room; champagne appeared as if by magic; Wes Hall treated us to calypso after calypso; and Davidson kept jabbering: "It's a tie, it's a tie."

A Study In Confidence

Date Published: 26-May-1966
Source: www.guyanaundersiege.com
Author: CLR James

[This is one (abridged version) of two essays written by CLR James at the request of George Lamming for the independence issue (1966) of the journal New World.]

According to James, “I take Kanhai as the high peak of West Indian cricketing development. West Indian cricketing had reached such a stage, that a fine cricketer could be adventuresome, and Kanhai was adventuresome…People felt that it was more than a mere description of how he batted; it was something characteristic of us as cricketers. They felt that it was not only a cricketing question, because Kanhai was an East Indian, and East Indians were still somewhat looked down upon by other people in the Caribbean. But I stated that here was a cricketer who was doing things that nobody else was doing, and I was very pleased when he became the captain of the West Indies side.”

Writing critically about West Indian cricket and cricketers, or any cricket for that matter, is a difficult discipline. The investigation, the analysis, even the casual historical or sociological gossip about any great cricketer should deal with actual cricket, the way he bats or bowls or fields, does all or any of these.

You may wander far from where you started, but unless you have your eyes constantly on the ball, in fact never take your eyes off it, you are soon not writing about cricket, but yourself (or other people) and psychological or literary responses to the game.

This can be and has been done quite brilliantly, adding a little something to literature but practically nothing to cricket, as little as the story of Jack and the Beanstalk (a great tale) adds to our knowledge of agriculture. This is particularly relevant to the West Indies.

A great West Indies cricketer in his play should embody some essence of that crowded vagueness which passes for the history of the West Indies. If, like Kanhai, he is one of the most remarkable and individual of contemporary batsmen, then that should not make him less but more West Indian.

You see what you are looking for, and in Kanhai’s batting what I have found is a unique pointer of the West Indian quest for identity, for ways of expressing our potential bursting at every seam. So now I hope we understand each other. Eyes on the ball.

The first historical innings (I prefer to call them historical now) by Kanhai was less than 50, for British Guiana against the Australians of 1956. Kanhai had nor yet made the West Indies team. He played well but what was remarkable about the innings was not only its promise but that he was the junior in a partnership with Clyde Walcott as senior.

Kanhai played effective innings, which resulted in his being selected for the 1957 West Indies tour in England. I am not making a chronicle. I remember, however, the batting that he showed in all Tests in England. West Indies was scrambling for openers and much of the responsibility was thrown to Kanhai. He bore it without disgrace, with spasms of alternate toughness and brilliance which only later we were to learn were fundamental constituents in his character.

Yet the innings in 1957 that future events caused me to remember most strongly was his last ten innings at the Oval. He faced Trueman and immediately hit him for two uninhibited fours. Gone was the restrain that held him prisoner during all of the previous innings against England.

Kanhai, I know now, had made up his mind to have a final fling at the English bowlers. But either he wasn’t yet good enough to play such cricket in a Test or he had not shaken off the effects of months of restrain. He was out almost at once.

The next innings that helped to build the Kanhai personality was played as far away as Australia. It was an innings of over two hundred made in one day. Kanhai simply went to the Melbourne wicket and from the first ball hit the Victorian bowlers all over the place until he was tired at the end of the day.

In Australia, Frank Worrell made West Indians and the world aware of what West Indians were capable of when their talents had full play. That is Worrell’s gift to the West Indian personality. Knahai continued to play that way all through the season. When he made a century in each innings against Australia, he was within an ace of making the second century in even time.

Hunte being run out in an effort to help Kanhai towards the century, Kanhai was so upset that it was long minutes before he could make the necessary runs.

Kanhai continued to score, in the West Indies, in India, in Pakistan, but the next great landmark of his career was his innings against England at the Oval in 1963…at the Oval, with the fat of the match depending to a substantial degree on his batting (Sobers ran himself out) in this his last test Innings in England, Kanhai set off to do to the English what he had done to the Australians.

Perhaps I should have seen its national significance, its relation to our quest for national identity. Here was a West Indians proving to himself that there was one field in which the West Indian not only was second to none, but was the creator of its own destiny. However, swept away by the brilliance and its dramatic circumstances, I floated with the stream.

1964 was a great year ... all through 1964 I sat in press boxes, most often between Sir Learie Constantine and Sir Frank Worrell. We were reporting England against Australia; there was a lot of talking about cricket and naturally about West Indian cricketers.

About Kanhai, for quite a while the only thing notable said was by Worrell. He made a comparison between Kanhai and Everton Weekes as batsmen who would stand back and lash the length ball away on the off-side or to the on-boundary. Then at Leeds, Kanhai himself turned up and came and sat in the press box. Learie had a long look at him and then turned to me and said, “There is Kanhai. You know at times he goes crazy.”

I knew that Learie had something in mind. I waited and before long I learnt what it was. I shall try as far as I can to put it in his own words.

“Some batsmen play brilliantly sometimes and at ordinary times they go ahead as usual. That one," nodding at Kanhai, “ is different from all of them. On certain days, before he goes into the wicket, he makes up his mind to let them have it. And once he is that way nothing on earth can stop him. Some of his colleagues in the pavilion who have played with him for years have seen strokes that they have never seen before: from him or anybody else. He carries on that way for 60 or 70 or 100 and then he comes back with a great innings behind him.”

That was illuminating indeed, coming from someone who knew all about batting which aimed at hitting bowlers all over the place. It was obvious that at times, Kanhai’s audacity at the wicket had earned not the usual perfunctory admiration but the deep and indeed awesome respect of Constantine.

We were both thinking of the 1963 innings at the Oval. He had hit the English bowlers all over the place, he gave no chance and never looked like getting out. Yet I knew that Learie was aware of something in Kanhai’s batting that had escaped me. At off times I wondered what it might be.

Going crazy.That could be Greek Dionysius, the satiric passion for the expression of the natural man, bursting through the acquired restraints of disciplined necessity. I played with the idea for a while. Tentatively. I settled for the West Indian proving to himself that henceforth he would follow no established pattern but would create his own.

Certainty came in the 1964 season. Sir Frank Worrell led a team of west Indian players against England eleven at Scarborough and Edgbaston (a third game a Lord’s was rained out). Kanhai made a century in each, and what I saw, no one has written about: nor have I met anyone who appears to have noticed it.

At Scarborough, Kanhai was testing out something new. Anyone could see that he was trying to sweep anything near the leg stump round to fine-leg to beat both deep square and long-leg. He missed the ball more than he connected. That was easy enough. But I distinctly remember being vaguely aware that he was feeling his way to something. I attributed it to the fact that he was playing league cricket all season and this was his first first-class match.

Afterwards, I was to recall his careful defense of immaculate length balls from Trevor Bailey, and, without any warning or fuss, not even a notable follow-through, he took on the rise and lifted it ten feet over mid-on’s head to beat wide long-on to the boundary; he never budged from his crease, he barely swung at the ball. Yet, as far as he was concerned, it was four predestined.

We went to Edgbaston. Bailey’s side had six bowlers who had bowled for England that season. If the wicket was not unresponsive to spin, and the atmosphere not unresponsive to swing, the rise of the ball from the pitch was fairly regular. Kanhai began by giving notice that he expected test bowlers to bowl at length; balls a trifle loose so rapidly and unerringly paid the full penalty that by the time he had made 30 or 40 everyone was on his best behaviour.

Kanhai did not go crazy. Exactly the reverse. He discovered, created a new dimension in batting.The only name I can give to it is “cat-and-mouse.” The bowler would bowl a length ball. Kanhai would play a defensive stroke, preferably off the front foot, pushing the ball for one, quite often for two on the on-side — a most difficult stroke on an uncertain pitch, demanding precious footwork and clockwork timing.

The bowler, after seeing his best lengths, exploited in this manner, would shift, whereupon he was unfailingly dispatched to the boundary. After a time it began to look as if the whole sequence had been pre-arranged for the benefit of the spectators. Kanhai did not confine himself too rigidly to this pre-established harmony.

One bowler, to escape the remorseless billiard-like pushes, brought the ball untimely up. Kanhai hit him for six to the long-on off the front foot. The bowler shortened a bit. Kanhai in the same over hit him for six in the same place, off the back foot this time.

Dexter, who made a brilliant, in fact, dazzling century in the traditional style, hit a ball out of the ground over the wide mid-on. Kanhai hit one out of the ground some 40 yards further on that Dexter. He made over 170 in about three hours.

Next day, Brian Johnson in the Daily Mail, Crawford White in the Daily Express, John Woodcock in The Times — three men who have watched critically all the great players of the last thirty years — made no effort to contain themselves: they had never seen such batting. Here and there some showed that in their minds the Everest conquered by Bradman had been once again scaled.

They were wrong. Kanhai had found his way into regions Bradman never knew. It was not only the technical skill and strategic generalship that made the innings the most noteworthy I have seen. There was more to it, to be seen as well as felt. Bradman was a ruthless executioner of bowlers. All through this demanding innings Kanhai grinned with a grin that could be seen a mile away.

Now to fit his cricket into the history of the West Indies. I saw all his batting against the Australians during their tour of the West Indies in 1965. Some fine play, but nothing in the same category at Edgbaston. At Melbourne in Australia, he had experienced a freedom in which his technique could explore roads historically charted, but to him unknown. He had to wait until the last test in England in 1963 to assure himself that his conquest of Australia was not an accident.

Now in 1964 at Scarborough and Edgbaston he was again free; to create not only “a house for Mr. Biswas,” a house like other houses, but to sail the seas that open out before the East Indian who no longer has to prove himself to anybody or to himself. It was no longer: anything you can do, I can do better. That had been left at Kennington Oval in 1963. Now it was fresh fields and pastures new, not tomorrow but today.

At that moment, Edgbaston in 1963, the West Indian could strike from his feet the dust of centuries. The match did not impose any burdensome weight of responsibility. He was free as few West Indians have been free.

Cricket is an art, a means of national expression. Voltaire says that no one is so boring as the man who insists on saying everything. I have said enough. But I believe I owe it to the many who did not see the Edgbaston innings to say what I thought it showed of the directions that, once freed, the West Indian might take.

The West Indian in my view embody more sharply than elsewhere Nietzsche’s conflict between the ebullience of Dionysius and the discipline of Apollo. Kanhai’s going crazy might seem to be Dionysius in us breaking loose ... maybe I saw only what I was looking for. Maybe.

A Moment In Time

Date Published: 26-Apr-2013
Source: Guyana Times International
Author: Guyana Times Staff

If the West Indies cricket tour of Australia in 1960/61 was dramatic and entertaining, it wasn’t just the quality of play that was superb; it was the sportsmanship that was rigorously testing, yet mutually admiring.

No wonder the tour produced the (then) unique result of a tied Test in the first match at Brisbane, and also contrived to evoke a spontaneous outpouring of people on the streets at Melbourne to bid goodbye to the tourists as they were about to depart from Australia at the end of the tour.

In Tony Cozier’s piece, ‘Reflecting on a rich past’ he wrote: “on the eve of their departure, someone had the idea to stage a motorcade for the popular losers through the streets of Melbourne. Nearly 100,000 turned out-and this was at a time when Australia still observed a whites-only immigration policy. It was a highly significant chapter in West Indian history, the first time they were led on tour by a black captain, Frank Worrell.

It was a post previously the preserve of the three per cent white elite and Worrell was only appointed after a strident campaign that paralleled the struggle for independence. There were those waiting for him to fail to say ‘we told you so’. That the opposite was the case was an enormous fillip to the people’s self-esteem.

The second and third Test matches were almost as absorbing as the first. So was the fourth, although it is nowadays almost forgotten, except for the crucial incident in the final session of play on the final day. So much so, but how many of you remember the outstanding performances by two of our own heroes; Rohan Kanhai and Lance Gibbs?

Matter of fact, by virtue of their outstanding performances they were considered then as the best in the world. Rohan Kanhai became the first West Indian to score a separate hundred in each innings of a Test in Australia. As for Gibbs who achieved the rare feat of a hat-trick in Test cricket. It is the only hat-trick in an Adelaide Test.

There was a big question mark against Gibbs’ name when he arrived in Australia. True, he had done reasonably well at home in his first series against Pakistan. But since then he had a lean time in India and Pakistan, and had not played at all in the series against England.

Generally, he was regarded as a sort of second-string bowler, as one would do a lot of work in the state matches and so allowed the famous Sonny Ramadhin to be at his best in the Tests. Thus, more than a few eyebrows were raised when Frank Worrell told the press before a ball was bowled in the series: “Gibbs can well prove the sensation of our tour.”

Worrell, of course, proved to be correct but it didn’t look so for the first four matches when Gibbs, like the other West Indian bowlers was hit all over the place. Nor did it look like anything more than a wishful thinking when Gibbs pulled a muscle before the first Test and, consequently could not be considered for that or the second.

But then came the third Test. Ramadhin was dropped-a sensation in itself! Gibbs was placed in his place. And the Guyanese icon, Gibbs bowling in tandem with Alf Valentine, almost collected a hat-trick, as he took three wickets in four balls and propelled the visitor to a comprehensive win. He followed up this feat with a most astonishing one-a hat-trick in Test in Australia since 1903-04 and the second West Indian to do so.

According to Gibbs: “I can remember that quite clearly. It sticks out as one of my better performances. I had two for about 60 at the time and I first dismissed Ken Mackay lbw and then Wally Grout was caught by Sobers at short-leg and a fellow by the name of Frank Mission was coming out to bat, so we had the fielders crowd round him, as we put the pressure on, but he was expecting me to get up in the air with an off-spinner, and I bowled a real quick delivery and before he could have brought the bat down, he was bowled!"

Iin any language, that was sensational! Gibbs followed this with four for 74 runs in Australia’s first innings in the final match at Melbourne, after playing in three Test matches, he found himself heading the bowling averages with 19 wickets at 20.28 each.

In Rohan Kanhai, West Indies had one of the true originals of modern batting. Small and perfectly balanced, Kanhai had all the conventional shots, plus many inventions of his own-particularly a sweep-cum hook on the leg side into which he would put all his weight and after fall over in the follow through.

From his first Test in 1957, he played sixty-one international matches without a break and, although the range of his shots and exciting attacking play made him appear an impetuous batsman, he was in fact extremely consistent and rarely threw his wicket away when there was a big score to be made.

When the fourth Test opened at Adelaide Oval, both teams had won one match each, and it was evident that whichever side won the fourth Test would have the advantage of setting the tactical agenda for the fifth and final Test: the fourth Test could therefore be decisive in the rubber.

Immediately before this Test, the West Indies showed excellent form in annihilating a weak South Australian County Eleven by an innings and 215 runs. Sobers and Joe Solomon, for instance, scored a century partnership in only thirty-nine minutes.

The Australians, on the other hand, seemed less buoyant: because of illness and injury, they had to leave out three of their most reliable players-Davidson, Meckiff and Harvey.

(Continued)

The match opened on a scorching, hot day, and Hunte (6) was soon lbw to Hoare: 12 for one. Kanhai and Cammie Smith scored quickly until Smith (2 was caught and bowled by Benaud only to be followed by Sobers (1) being bowled by Benaud: 91 for three. Skipper Worrell and Kanhai scored at breakneck speed, adding 107 runs before Kanhai (117) was caught at slip off Benaud: 198 for four.

It was a vintage innings, all power, daring and speedy reflexes, and it was thanks mainly to Kanhai that West Indies ended the day on 348 for seven, and finished the second day 393 all out. Worrell in his usual consistent way contribute 71, Nurse 49, and Alexander 63 not out. Benaud took five wickets for 96 runs in 27 overs and Kline no wickets for 109 runs in 21 overs.

It gives some idea of how fast West Indies scored, to realize that the two main Australian bowlers conceded nearly four runs per over.

In their reply, Australia lost Favell (1) at 9 and O’Neil (11) at 45. McDonald and Simpson steadied things with a stand of 74 before McDonald (71) was caught by Hunte off Gibbs: 119 for three. Then Simpson and Burge took the score to 213 when Burge (45) was bowled by Sobers. At end of play, Australia had reached 221 for four, with Simpson on 85 and Benaud on 1.

Simpson fell for his overnight score early on the third day; but skipper Benaud rallied his troops by scoring a gallant 77, and seeing them through to a total of 336, only 27 behind West Indies. It was a splendid recovery, considering that Australia were 221 for five when Simpson was dismissed. Sobers took three for 64 in 24 overs and Gibbs five for 97 in 35.6 overs-it was a 8-ball over then.

Gibbs achieved the rare feat of a hat-trick in Test cricket when he had Mackay lbw, Grout caught by Sobers, and Mission clean bowled in consecutive deliveries. It is the only hat-trick in an Adelaide Test.

Cammie Smith - Pat Legall’s bunny at Bourda - roared ahead like an out-of-control fire engine when West Indies second innings started. In just about one hour he scored 46 blistering runs, including ten fours. When he was caught by Hoare off Mackay with the score at 66, he had set the tone of dash and daring-do for the innings.

The tone perfectly suited Kanhai who went even faster than Smith, so that when stumps were drawn on the fourth day, West Indies were 150 for one wicket with Kanhai 59 not out, and Hunte 44 not out, although Hunte had started batting almost one hour before his dashing partner. Kanhai continued his fierce onslaught on the fifth day, calling his partner for such sharp singles that Hunte had to caution him.

It was in vain, however. For when he was on 99, on the verge of a separate hundred in each innings of the same Test match, he called for another impossible single and caused poor Hunte to be run out for 79 after a dazzling partnership that had realized 163 breathtaking runs. Kanhai showed remorse by staying for nearly an hour on 103. He seemed to recover; but briefly; for he was soon lbw to Benaud for 115 - the bowler’s 200th Test wicket.

Kanhai is the first West Indian to score a separate hundred in each innings of a Test in Australia. His first hundred lasted 126 minutes, and his second for 150 minutes. By tea on the fifth day West Indies had reached 360 with Alexander on 45 and Worrell 40.

Worrell held back until about 5.30 p.m when West Indies were 432 for six, before declaring and giving Australia 35 minutes to bat before stumps. He had left his opponents 460 runs to make in 395 minutes, an astute gamble that he was well on his way to winning that very day when McDonald (2), Favell (4) and Simpson (3) were all back in the pavilion and the Australian scored only 31.

On the final day, since the wicket was lifeless and of no use to Hall, it was Sobers, Gibbs and Valentine who carried the attack to the Australians of whom O’Neil and Burge fought back most stoutly with a brave stand of 82. Runs were no matter. Survival was all, and the air itself became heavy with concentration, tension and desperation as, bit by bit wicket by wicket, the battle swung inexorably towards West Indies.

After O’Neil was caught and bowled by Sobers for 65 and Benaud dismissed in an identical manner for 17, the score was 144 for six. At tea, following an invaluable 42 from Grout, the total had moved to 203 for seven. At that stage, mere bowlers-Hoare, Mission and Kline remained. Of these, Mission (1) was caught by Solomon off Worrell, and Hoare (0) was bowled by Worrell; 207 for nine.

Now Mackay and Kline, Australia’s last pair, stood between West Indies victory. Surely they could survive for long! This thought was evidently in the minds of the West Indies players, when, with almost an hour’s play remaining. Mackay pushed forward to Worrell and Sobers caught the ball. Sobers and other West Indies players, certain Mackay was out, began to walk off the field. But Mackay stood his ground; and umpire Egar’s finger did not budge.

This was the crucial incident mentioned earlier; it changed the course of the match, and it turned out, the fate of the entire rubber. Try as they might, the West Indies bowlers could not dislodge Mackay and Kline who blocked, pushed, padded and defended for one hundred minutes until the game was drawn with the Australian score at 273 for nine: Mackay 62 not out and Kline 15 not out.

From an Australian point of view, Mackay and Kline were heroes. Today, it scarcely seems possible that so much could have happened in one match: one hundred in each innings by Kanhai, Gibbs’ hat-trick, Benaud’s 200th Test wicket (not to mention his heroic 77 not out in the first innings), Alexander’s 63 and 87 unbeaten in both innings, and Mackay’s defiant 62 not out. For Australians the last ditch heroism of Mackay and Kline must stand out.

But what probably stands out for most West Indians is the catch that the record books tell us Sobers never took.

Builder Of Runs And Legends

Date Published: 18-Apr-2012
Source: Indo-Caribbean World
Author: Bernard Heydorn

Once in a while I dip into the past to remember a legendary cricketer. Such is Rohan Kanhai – a gay blade, a glamorous right handed batsman, a glorious Indo-Guyanese cricketer.

Rohan (Bholalall/Babulal) Kanhai was born on Boxing Day December 26, 1935 in the village of Port Mourant in the county of Berbice, British Guiana. With five sisters and two brothers, he was a fifth child.

Port Mourant, located 15 miles from New Amsterdam, a town in which I grew up in the 1950's, gave birth to other legendary Guyanese such as freedom fighter and President, Cheddi Jagan. There must be something in the air in Port Mourant, the sugar estate, cow dung and pasture, the Corentyne breeze, or the history of its labouring residents that give rise to some of Guyana's greatest sons and daughters.

Kanhai from a very young age broke all the rules of batting. He tended to hit across the line of flight, play a cross bat instead of a straight bat, not always using bat and pad together, moving out of his crease instead of staying at the wicket, falling instead of being on his feet, and always on the lookout for blasting the bowlers. He was unorthodox and uncoached.

The cross bat technique he shared with perhaps the greatest batsman of all time – The Don – Don Bradman. Unlike the purists of the game who got their direction from the great halls and fields of cricket in England, West Indian cricketers before and after Kanhai have sought to make cricket more interesting, exciting, creative and entertaining.

Kanhai learnt his cricket - according to his book, Blasting for Runs (1966) - in the narrow backstreets and open wasteland around his home in Port Mourant. He used the dried leaves of coconut palms to make bats. Hit on the bare legs regularly with hard cork balls, he learnt to be nimble on his feet, a skill that came in very handy as he faced some of the most fearsome fast bowlers in the world, including Trueman, Statham, Tyson, Davidson, Hall, Griffith, and Gilchrist.

By his own admission he was unorthodox, taking balls from the offside and putting them away to the leg and onside boundaries. Even his captain, the great Sir Frank Worrell tried to improve his off side game with more orthodox play. Kanhai persisted in his ways, saying that a batsman needs three things to succeed – guts, timing and concentration. Now I realize where I fell down as a batsman for these qualities, were mostly foreign to me.

Let me roll back to Berbice in the 50's when Kanhai came into his own. I remember seeing him in the late afternoon, jumping off a truck heading for Port Mourant and coming to play ball with students of Berbice High School on their playing field. Three of my brothers and I attended Berbice High School.

He would take off his work boots, hit the ball all over the place, then jump back onto the last truck heading for his home on the Corentyne that evening. We school boys, even at that early age, were in awe of his talent.

Kanhai's father worked at the Port Mourant Sugar Estate. Rohan, it is said, worked at carpentry. Later he developed into a builder of runs and legends. In his early cricketing career he doubled as a wicket keeper. His friends and neighbours in Port Mourant were other Guyanese and West Indian cricketing greats such as Basil Butcher, Joe Solomon, Ivan Madray, and "Uncle" John Trim.

Rohan and Ivan Madray were teammates in the Port Mourant Roman Catholic School. Basil Butcher attended the Anglican School nearby. Kanhai and Madray decided to join the Port Mourant Cricket Club nearby where Joe Solomon and Basil Butcher were playing. The ground was close to Kanhai's house and inevitably he would hook a ball onto the house, into the garden or his mother's clothes hanging on the line outside. Broken windows and fraught nerves were the result!

Incidentally, around this time my eldest brother played for a cricket team called Teachers (although he worked at a bank), originating around the New Amsterdam area. His team played against the Port Mourant Cricket Club that had Butcher, Solomon and Rex Ramnarace who I believe was the captain. Rohan Kanhai was reportedly absent because of an appendix operation. I daresay we can all guess what the result of that match was.

Later on I saw Kanhai batting at the Mental Hospital Ground in New Amsterdam. This was, at that time, the best ground in Berbice with the patients (they called them "madmen" in those days) rolling the pitch and outfield regularly as a form of occupational therapy. I believe it was an inter-county fixture – Demerara versus Berbice.

Kanhai was stroking the ball majestically through the covers, hitting the boundary boards with such explosions that it even had "the madmen" jumping! Then he would become bolder and hit the ball out of the ground into a neighbouring locked ward where the patients were sitting under trees in their enclosed quadrangle. On occasion, a patient would pick up a ball and refuse to return it, holding up the game indefinitely.

In late 1954 Kanhai got a chance to play in Georgetown in a feature match. The big names in cricket at that time were the Barbadian Clyde Walcott working in British Guiana and Guyanese Bruce Pairaudeau. As fate would have it, a spinner from Berbice called "Cobra" Ramdatt was selected instead of Kanhai but "Cobra" twisted an ankle and Kanhai got the spot.

He opened the batting and was quickly out for a duck off the bowling of Richard Hector. He reprieved himself as a wicketkeeper and was called to trials for British Guiana. In early 1955 he flew to Barbados with the B.G. cricket team. There he faced the Bajun fast bowler Frank King who peppered him with bouncers leaving him battered and bruised, for a score of 14 runs. In his book "Blasting for Runs" he say, "Like most batsmen I've never particularly liked pace but I've tried not to allow anyone to master me".

Playing in a colony match later for Guyana against Australia he confounded the great Australian fast bowler Keith Miller by clouting 51 runs, cross bat and all. By 1957 he was on the boat to England with the West Indian team as a wicketkeeper/batsman. Thus began his illustrious Test career. He had mixed success as a player in England that summer. His first five innings on foreign soil brought scores of 0, 0, 0, 2, 4 – a total of 6 runs.

It was on that tour that Kanhai was bruised from head to toe after taking Trueman's hostile bowling for four hours in one innings. By the time he was out for 47, his left hand was strapped and he felt weak at the knees. In his autobiography Blasting for Runs (1966) he said that he asked his batting partner Clyde Walcott what to do about Trueman and Clyde said "Stand up and bat!"

Clyde then took the first two balls of Trueman's next over, both bouncers, and pasted them to the square leg boundary. Trueman left Clyde alone after that.

According to John Arlott the great English commentator and sports writer in his autobiography Basingstoke Boy (1990), umpire Dai Davies cautioned Trueman for intimidatory bowling when he sent down four bouncers to Kanhai in a single over. Remember in those days the batsmen did not wear helmets for protection as they do these days.

By the time of the West Indian tour of India 1958/59, Kanhai had established himself as a fearsome batsman. He scored 256 in Calcutta, his highest Test innings. Together with Garfield Sobers, the former Barbadian police cadet, they stood like colossi astride the cricket world. They often found themselves at the crease together rescuing the West Indies from a bad start and plundered bowlers as a deadly batting pair.

Even though Kanhai has been a professional cricketer for many years, he indicates that he prefers watching soccer to cricket. He likes to get away from his office for some relaxation.

I suspect that horse racing is also one of his relaxants like the time he and Colin Ingleby-Mackenzie went missing on a Commonwealth tour in Kuala Lumpur in the middle of a cricket match and turned up at a race course nearby. I remember seeing Rohan in the stands at the Garrison Race Course in Barbados in the early 1970's, enjoying the races.

Kanhai went on to score many runs around the world in a variety of cricketing formats. He stuck to his unorthodox style and has played with and against many of the greats of the game. He was in the famous tied Test in Australia, the first ever in cricketing history in the memorable tour of 1960/61, together with his Port Mourant teammate Joe Solomon.

The West Indies went on to become World Champions in cricket. Kanhai, Sobers and others were instrumental in their rise to the top. Kanhai became captain of the West Indies for 13 Tests, succeeding Gary Sobers. He was the first Guyanese to lead the West Indies for an extended period of time. Grey-haired and 40, he played in the 1975 Cricket World Cup, scoring a steady half century.

He has played League Cricket in England which is somewhat akin to Sunday cricket in Guyana in the old days – lots of fun, lots of runs, lots of cricketing tales and tall stories.

He played county cricket for Warwickshire where he participated in a world record undefeated second wicket stand of 465 with John Jameson against Gloucestershire in 1974. He also played in Sheffield Shield matches in Australia. Kanhai coached in the West Indies in the 1990's although he was averse to coaching for himself.

Kanhai knows what it's like to be acclaimed and what it is to be booed, as he was at Bourda, Georgetown in the Australia visit in 1964/65. He made a quick 89 in the first innings of the Test but was out for a duck in the second innings with the third ball he faced. Unlike the first innings when he was wildly cheered by the home crowd, he was roundly booed in the second innings.

"It was a strange, frightening noise I'd never experienced before and never want to again," he said. It shows how fickle fans can be.

Kanhai stayed out of controversy most of his life except for his stint of playing cricket in South Africa (Transvaal 74/75). John Arlott was perhaps alluding to this in his book Basingstoke Boy (1990) when he said, "Kanhai enjoyed a long cricketing career although he fell out drastically with some of his political masters".

Apartheid in South Africa was under universal condemnation at the time and it is said that Kanhai was either "banned" from Guyana or from playing cricket in Guyana. It is difficult to see how a citizen can be banned from his own country.

Very little is known of Kanhai's private life. He was married in the early 1960's in England. He has lived a semi-reclusive life in the last little while. Attempts to get him to play cricket in Toronto I believe have proven futile.

Kanhai has scored 6,227 runs in 79 tests for an average of 47.53 Some say he gave away his wicket on occasion with rash shots or run outs. His style was decidedly his own with his famous falling hook shot where with his follow through, he ended up lying on his back.

He was like a swashbuckling buccaneer in the days when cricket was cricket, blasting for runs and putting bowlers on the rack. For me, the sun was never so bright, the skies so blue, and the breeze so refreshing as seeing Kanhai batting with freedom and delight. Such was Rohan Kanhai and such was West Indian cricket.

His book Blasting for Runs (1966) like his contemporary Freddie Trueman's The Freddie Trueman Story (1965) are interesting and outspoken, if at times sanitized. Both are definitely worth a read. The great Indian batsman Sunil Gavaskar reportedly named his son Rohan after Kanhai. It is reported that there is a Wetherspoons's pub in Ashington, Northumberland named after Rohan Kanhai due to his stint there as a cricketer.

If the creeks don't rise and the sun still shines I'll be talking to you.

In reply to Norm

Great great stuff Normy !!!

Read blasting for runs over 40 years ago and not again.

I will try to get a copy again

PM me with an email address if you would like to read Blasting For Runs.

In reply to Norm

Rohan Kanhai: A Study in Confidence

by CLR James

In reply to Narper

This is a guys recount from listening to a radio broadcast?

In reply to jacksparrow

those days radio commentary was more exciting than what we watch today on tv

In reply to Dukes

In reply to Norm

I still maintain all these are subjective to varying extents, and when it comes down to the numbers, Shiv is at the top, that's the only indisputable fact. Even Bravo had him in his all time X1 recently, even though many many people commented on other players, not one said anything about Shiv

In reply to jacksparrow

In reply to jacksparrow

Another question.You do understand that not outs can significantly affect your average.

Imagine a man batting at # 3 in a strong batting line up. We will call him A
Now imagine another man batting at # 6 in a weak batting line up. We will call him B

Also imagine they both have the same batting ability.

Which one do you think will have a better batting average?

In reply to jacksparrow

Since you seem to be a batting average kind of guy

1. Batting average in Australia

2. Batting average in South Africa

3. Batting average in Pakistan

4. Batting average at # 3

5. Batting average at # 4

In reply to Norm

The first reply is subjective again and your second is using specific numbers- but we talking about the overall numbers(most runs-average-centuries) not the best for any specific position, opposition etc
But I understand how this board thinks nevertheless the numbers will be there always

In reply to Dukes

Sobers has been touted as the greatest all rounder you know

In reply to Narper

The good thing about this discussion is that the Board got an excellent education about Rohan Kanhai.Many young people behave as though cricket started when they started watching cricket.I read widely about the 3 W's and Headley.I listened to my father and Berkley Gaskin talk about cricketers from their time.Today people just look at batting and bowling averages.
Players who they have never seen are merely what their statistics show without any reference to any context.Samuels making 260 against Bangladesh in Bangladesh is the same as Sobers making 254 against Lillee in Australia.

There is no doubt in my mind that the mindset of cricketers back in the day was totally different to the mindset today.Cricketers are much more individualistic now and far more concerned with personal achievements than players of yesterday who were much more team oriented.

In reply to jacksparrow

I am talking about BATTING. Barrington has a better overall batting average than Sobers.

In reply to Norm

In reply to Narper

Interesting that you mention this.I see people calling Kanhai Lall but I remember we used to call Munilall that.I was also under the impression back in the day that Munilall did not have a first name.

This is a well written essay by my schoolmate. ENJOY


Retro video cricket : R. B. Kanhai b N. J. N. Hawke 89...
For my brother Ronald, Diplomat, Historian, Cricket Connoisseur, and Music Lover who bought me my first Monk LP.
The last time I visited Jamaica in 1991, Jimmy Richards gifted me a copy of "Statistics of West Indies Cricket 1865-1989"; a book he co-wrote with the eminent Trinidadian Cricket Statistics expert Mervyn "Pee Wee" Wong.
Ever so often I would leaf through the book to do research, or to look at scores and statistics of long bygone test matches.
One day I happened to come across the scorecard of the 3rd. Test match West Indies v Australia at Bourda in 1965. I ran down the scorecard and came to the statement : R. B. Kanhai b N. J. N. Hawke 89. And the retro images went off in my head..........
Sometime early on the morning of April 15th, the second day of the test match, my elder brother Ronald told me he was taking me to Bourda to see cricket. He showed me the three (or was it just two?) crisp EC( Guyana was not yet independent) dollar bills he got from our "old man" before he departed earlier for work. So, in very short order we shot out of the house. We lived in Newtown, so we "walk-ran" it to Bourda in under 15 minutes!
As usual, in those days, huge crowds gathered outside Bourda to get in early to secure good vantage points in whatever stand they went to. On that day, North Road was no exception. The buzz was that the whole of Berbice had descended on Bourda. The number of "country" wooden buses revealed that truth. And for good reason. Two young Berbician stroke makers were at the wicket. If there was ever a "Port Mourant" day for cricket, this was it. The day before, Rohan Kanhai and Basil Butcher had put a decisive hammering on the Australian bowling attack. The West Indies had closed the first day at 201 for 2. Lall and Butch were coming back to continue an unbeaten third wicket partnership of 133. Butch was 47 n.o. and Lall 88 n.o. Hence the Berbice invasion!
With our meager budget, we were headed for "Rails" or "Sun Bun"; open stands or bleachers as they are known. The man at the gate was a tall lanky serious looking Black fellow whose name was Mr. Miller, but who was also nicknamed "Peewing". We young lads were regularly reminded that it was a very bad idea to call him that to his face. The word also was that he had spent a few years in "Lot 12", so everybody got the drift.
But that day, I think I benefitted, either from some random act of goodness on Peewing's part, or a quick secret negotiation that I didn't see.
I heard Peewing say to my brother, " Leh smallie duck unda de turnstile" So, I did, and only my brother paid. Needless to say we had a few extra coins for puri and pine drink at lunch time. The joke is, after all these years I never asked my brother what really took place.
By now it was after 9 and there was almost a capacity crowd in "Rails". We had to stoop close to the wired fence to secure a vantage point. The other stands too were bursting at the seams, and there was this electric hum of anticipation and excitement. This is the first time I experienced this, and it has stuck with me since then like an addiction. Bets and cross talk abounded; folks held transistor radios to their ear waiting, waiting...
The Bourda surface was immaculately smooth, lush green, almost otherworldly. In contrast stood the main pavilion: well kept, stately, with its huge clock mounted on the upper section of the facade. By now all eyes were on that clock, anticipating the start of the day's play.
Soon enough the entire crowd erupted into a sudden loud applause, as umpires Gerry Gomez and Cortez Jordan skipped down the pavillion stairs and walked towards the pitch. Right behind them emerged the Australian team, led by Bobby Simpson, their captain. They were a truly fit looking, athletic team. Bill Lawry stood out like a sore thumb because of his height. He was probably the tallest human being I had seen in my life to date. The man was probably seven feet tall!
Then the applause got louder and more deafening: down the stairs came the Berbice boys; Lall and Butch!
I had seen Butcher bat the previous week hitting 157 for British Guiana against the touring Aussies, but I was seeing Kanhai in person for the first time. They were both immaculately groomed, and seemed to quietly acknowledge the tumultuous adulation that greeted their appearance. Butch, bow legged, languid, dragged his bat beside him as he walked out. Kanhai moved with feline ease, he twiddled his bat now and then. He moved like there were little well oiled springs where his joints were supposed to be.
My face was pressed up against the wire fencing as I sat on the ground. That was my best vantage point. That electric hum became louder, now accompanied my the smell of food and liquor, and the blaring of transistor radios bringing ball by ball commentary. A little elderly East Indian man came and squatted close to me. He was dressed in short khaki pants and a vest. He extracted a half filled "flattie" from his back pocket. With concentrated reverence, he poured the rum into the root of the great sandbox tree that gave us a little shade, “Hundred like a rass hey today Baboo!" he intoned and took a seat on he ground.
The umpires had taken their places, the Aussie fielders their various positions and the officiating umpire ( I cannot recall whether it was Jordan or Gomez) said 'Play!"
Neil Hawke marked out his run at the Regent Street End to bowl the first over of the day. Butch, on 47, took strike, scored a single, moved on to 48: which brought Kanhai to face Hawke. Lall also scored a single, moved on to 89....loud applause! He was only 11 away from his century!
Another single to Butcher took him to 49, which meant Kanhai was now at the striker's end to face Hawke again. I'm sure the din could have been heard all the way to Port Mourant!
So Hawke, walked back to the end of his run, wheeled around, and ran in to bowl to Kanhai. Lall had settled into his attractive, well balanced batting stance, and waited.
Hawke bowled ;Kanhai, shuffled behind the delivery, covered up in defense, and missed the ball completely. There was a sickening clatter as the ball hit the off and middle stumps. There was an immediate chorus of "Bowled!" from almost the entire crowd, followed by audible expressions of disappointment, not without colorful local expletives. Big bets were lost! The little man beside muttered, " Oh rass, Lall..." while staring in regret at the sandbox tree root.
Kanhai whipped off his gloves, and briskly walked back to the pavilion. Cheers of acknowledgement followed him all the way as he disappeared into the GCC pavilion and Seymour Nurse emerged.....
Hence the statistic record R. B Kanhai b N. J. N. Hawke...89.
Epilogue.
The West Indies won that test match by 212 runs. The Aussies were mesmerized by the off spin by one Lancelot Richard Gibbs who took 3 for 51 and 6 for 29 in the game.
Many years later, over drinks, my now departed buddy Ron Legall and I discussed that Hawke delivery. Ron told me what a brute it was. It out swung, and off cut when it hit the pitch. How do you play that?
I don't think my brother knew that in a year's time in 1966 he would have scored the first Youth Cricket century at Bourda. And I had no idea I as going to climb into that otherworldly looking commentary box to do ball by ball commentary as part of a broadcast career.
As Monk says "Life is a muahfuah!"

In reply to Narper

In reply to Dukes

In reply to Dukes

In reply to Norm

I agree that the essay was brilliant.I also think that it captures how we felt as 8 or 9 year olds going to cricket.That match, along with the Colts match where Camacho made 157 and his opening partner Horton Dolphin made 61are indelibly imprinted on my mind.

The fact that I knew Dollo, who was a classmate of my cousin added to the allure of cricket. People like Reds Murray whose family was close to mine made it exciting beyond belief.Keith’s article describes Lawry as being extraordinarily tall but my memory of him was his nose which to me was huge. In fact one of my primary school classmates resorted to calling him “ What’s cooking at Brown Betty?”To this day I have a vivid video in my head of Collymore bowling in the territorial match.

I remember hearing Lance Gibbs say that when the WI lose he still cries, so I have no shame in admitting that when Neil Hawke clean bowled Kanhai, I cried and had to be consoled by my father. Mind you it is amazing what a chicken-in-the-rough from Rendezvous could do for an 8 year old.

Life back then was so different to today

In reply to Dukes

thanks for sharing. Enjoyed it!


Here is Nurse and Kanhai batting together.

In reply to googley

Thank you for that piece too.