Worrell of the Punjab

IN 1958, the Trinadadian writer C.L.R. James returned home after 26 years in exile. He intended to stay three months, but stayed four years, serving as editor and leader writer of the foremost nationalist newspaper. In this paper, he wrote about politics and economics and, not least, cricket.

As editor of The Nation, James played a leading role in the campaign to have Frank Worrell named the first Black man to captain the West Indies. The fair-skinned wicket-keeper-batsman, Gerry Alexander, was in charge when the West Indies toured India in 1958-59 and he stayed as captain for the home series against England in 1959-60. Through that winter, C.L.R. James wrote a series of polemics urging Alexander's replacement by Worrell. "Alexander Must Go," ran the headline of one article. "I shall not rest till the question is corrected," insisted James. To him, and for millions of others, "the idea of Alexander captaining a side on which Frank Worrell is playing (was) quite revolting." Not that he had anything against Alexander personally, but the point had to be made - the best and most experienced cricketer should be captain - what has the shade of one's skin anything to do with it? "Whatever the result, of the West Indies-England series," wrote James, "I shall mobilise everything I can so that Frank should captain the team to Australia". For "Frank Worrell is at the peak of his reputation not only as a cricketer but as a master of the game. Respect for him has never been higher in all his long and brilliant career. His bearing on the field, all grace and dignity, (evokes) general admiration."

Some liberals, such as the English writer Alan Ross, blanched at the directness of James' attack. "Who but a malicious xenophobe could write, during a Test match," remarked Ross, "that 'the idea of Alexander captaining a side on which Frank Worrell is playing is to me quite revolting?' Revolting is the parlance of the irresponsible agitator." The genteel Ross had completely missed the years of discrimination that lay behind James' outbursts.

Others would be more sensitive. There was the great Australian all-rounder, Keith Miller, for instance, who had written that a major "problem in West Indies cricket is that the captain has usually been chosen from among the European stock. Just think of the most famous West Indies cricketers... Learie Constantine, George Headley, Frank Worrell, Everton Weekes, Clyde Walcott... all are coloured, but none has led his country."

Worrell was finally appointed captain for the Australian tour of 1960-61, with Alexander serving as his vice-captain. Three years later, Worrell led his side on a great, triumphant march through the cricket grounds of England. In that summer of 1963, Hutchinson of London published C.L.R. James' Beyond a Boundary, a magisterial combination of autobiography, history and social criticism that is without question the greatest book on cricket ever written. The book had been 40 years in the making, and could not find a publisher when James and his friend John Arlott hawked it around in the 1950s. The delays were fortunate, for at the precise moment that Beyond a Boundary, appeared the West Indies, "clearing their way with bat and ball", had "made a public entry into the comity of nations".

The acknowledged hero of the West Indian resurgence did not play a single Test match in India. In 1948-49, John Goddard brought over a side to play five Tests. It included Weekes and Walcott but not Worrell, who stepped down because of a dispute over terms (the authorities wanted him to stop spending his summers playing league cricket in England.) Ten years later, when the West Indies came back to India, he was not there either. The reason given out this time was that Worrell was busy finishing his degree in Manchester, but it is more likely that he opted out after Gerry Alexander was appointed captain.

While Frank Worrell never represented his country in India, he came with the three Commonwealth sides that toured here between 1949 and 1954. This was a novel experiment, the sending of multi- national teams to promote and further the game in the sub- continent. Never before had players of more than one country toured together. Indian crowds were thus privileged to see "at once the carefree cricket of the West Indian, the orthodoxy of the Englishman and the grimness of the Australian".

On these tours, Worrell was kept busy taking catches, claiming wickets, scoring runs, runs, runs. He himself counted as one of the best innings of his life the unbeaten 223 he hit in Kanpur, in the fourth "Test" of the 1949-50 series. The runs were made on a surface he was not used to, coir matting, and against Hiralal Gaekwad and Ghulam Ahmed, two real devils on the mat. In the next "Test" in Madras the West Indian scored 161 in another exhibition of classical batsmanship. The Indian captain, Vijay Hazare, wrote later that "watching Worrell perform always gives one mixed feelings. On the one hand, with every minute, he becomes a thorn in the flesh of the fielding side. But even when smarting under the blows one cannot but admire his artistry." In 1950-51 Worrell again scored a century at Kanpur. On this visit he was also captain in three of the Tests, replacing the 45-year-old Leslie Ames, who had found the going too tough. His side won the series, their victory demonstrating that White men could play under a Black leader with no detriment to performance. Indians were already convinced of this, but it took another 10 years for the message to finally reach the West Indies.

"And off the field, what a man!" wrote Vijay Hazare of Frank Worrell: "Affable, suave and courteous, Worrell was always good company. Always immaculately turned out, he was ready to enjoy a chat and a drink with anyone (even those like me who drank nothing stronger than a cup of tea). Though he possessed strong views on many subjects he talked without giving offence." Countless Indians who did not have the good fortune to play against him or speak to him likewise worshipped Worrell. Worrell played twice in my home town, at the grounds of the Indian Military Academy in Dehra Dun. My family lived in the adjoining campus, that of the Forest Research Institute. My cricket-mad uncle, then 14, walked over to watch his hero bat at the IMA in 1950. Worrell made a low score (20 or so) and, after he was out, my uncle edged up closer to see him. He was sitting in the pavilion, polishing his pads white, for the next and, we may be certain, more prolific innings.

On the 1953-54 Commonwealth tour, the English wicketkeeper Paul Gibb also came. In his diary, Gibb noted that in one match the attendance was below par, because of "the absence of Frankie Worrell. The crowds will go miles to see him". Indians admired Worrell for his cricket and his character and, in the cricketer's own mind, the subcontinent would always have a special place.

When he died, aged only 42, he was serving as the Rector of the University of the West Indies. He was buried on campus, the chosen site overlooking the cricket ground on one side, the sea on the other. I have seen, somewhere, a picture of the tombstone. Here lies buried, it says, "Sir Frank Mortimer Maglinne Worell, West Indies Cricketer".

Look closer, and between the name and the profession one can read, in smaller print, "B. A. (Manchester): L.L.D. (Punjab)." One degree acquired, the other bestowed upon him in recognition of his contributions to cricket and to humanity. Lancashire, north India, Australia, the Caribbean: of which other cricketer shall it be said that he is reverenced equally in places so widely separated by culture and geography?

RAMACHANDRA GUHA

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