Who is the quintessential Indian cricketer, the one who is representative of the country? The question was asked by the writer Rahul Bhattacharya during a panel discussion in Delhi recently.
The response to such a question tells us more about the one answering than about the answer itself. C.K. Nayudu is a good answer. He was India’s first cricket captain, and the man whose 153 for The Hindus against the MCC confirmed India were ready for Test cricket. Nayudu batted less than two hours, and hit 13 fours and 11 sixes against a team with four Test bowlers. With that, Indian cricket had arrived, a fact duly acknowledged.
Yet it wasn’t Nayudu who came to mind immediately. I thought of how Victor Trumper probably stood for Australia, or Ken Barrington for England. These have become cricketing clichés, although each generation might pick its own equally qualified players. Does Barrington even come up in a cricket conversation any more?
It was said of him that when he went out to bat you could see the Union Jack fluttering on his bat handle. In 82 Tests, he scored 6806 runs at 58.67.While Peter May, Colin Cowdrey, Ted Dexter, Tom Graveney were the glamour boys, Barrington “made himself into an obdurate, cussed batsman because that is what was needed,” wrote Mike Selvey.
For generations, Trumper was the all-Australian cricketing hero, not for his batting average but for the manner of his playing. Many placed him above even Don Bradman. Neville Cardus expressed it best, if parenthetically, “whoever would not be spendthrift of language about Trumper, let him not write on him at all.” Cricketers have been admired, emulated, respected and esteemed. But few have been loved in the manner Trumper was. His funeral (he died at 37) was one of the largest attended.
What about the West Indies? Frank Worrell, probably, or Learie Constantine. Erudite, talented, playing cricket the West Indian way. Garry Sobers was one of a kind, a genius, and geniuses, by definition, cannot be typical. Perhaps that eliminates Constantine too.
When Worrell died, aged just 42, C.L.R. James wrote of him, “He was an authentic national hero…his firm adherence to what he thought was right fitted him to exercise that leadership and gift for popularity which he had displayed so notably in cricket. He had shown the West Indian mastery of what Western civilization had to teach…”
There were four of us in the panel expected to respond to Bhattacharya’s question. Not surprisingly, no two people chose the same person.
One picked Mohammad Azharuddin, exemplar of wristy Indian batsmanship, but equally containing a concentration of the flaws that make us human (or so the argument went). Another chose Kapil Dev (once again, flaws being a key in the argument). A third decided to pick a candidate from each decade, hence Tiger Pataudi (60s), Sunil Gavaskar (70s) and so on.
My choice was Bishan Bedi, spinner and artist, two features that were both Indian and both attractive to the romantic in us. In our minds we want all our sportsmen to be graceful artists who are also the best in the world at what they do.
Just as the photograph of Trumper stepping out to drive is recognised even today, Bedi’s bowling action has transcended the limits of time and embedded itself in the minds of even those who never saw him play.
Youtube has helped, of course, and even in the days of fewer and unsophisticated cameras, it is still possible to make out the bowler’s smooth, almost gentle, action. It remains one of the most venerated in the game. Bowling actions that are seen as ‘poetry in motion’ (almost a sporting cliché ) usually belong to the fast bowlers. Ray Lindwall, Wesley Hall, Michael Holding, Dale Steyn.
But it isn’t just a smooth bowling action and a bunch of wickets. In facts, records do not matter when you are picking a country’s representative player. Trumper had an average of 39, Worrell 49. Barrington evoked the bulldog spirit Britain was renowned for. In all these cases, there are players with better records for their countries, yet what is important is beyond records.
In Bedi’s case, he is the argumentative Indian who, as captain, fought for his players, fought for his teams, and fought for what he believed was right. He also was a captain with empathy, one who, despite being a great player himself, understood those not as gifted.
Trumper, Worrell, Barrington, Bedi — what the four of them have in common is a uniqueness specific to their countries. You cannot imagine a Worrell playing for India or a Bedi for Australia. Perhaps it is this above all else that makes them representatives of the game in their own countries.
You, dear reader, will have a different set of names, I am sure. After all, there are no wrong answers.
