Reliving cricket’s amateur era

May 30, 2015 10:34 pm | Updated May 31, 2015 12:31 am IST

Third Man: Recollections from a Life in Cricket authored by V. Ramnarayan.

Third Man: Recollections from a Life in Cricket authored by V. Ramnarayan.

Perhaps the biggest cricketing loss of the modern era is the disappearance of that precious amateur spirit.

Those were days when money was not at the centre of the game’s existence. Back then, deals, endorsements and contracts had not made deep inroads. Players could not be bought and sold like commodities at an auction. Cricketers had regular jobs, played the game for honour. The matches were hard-fought but with less rancour and more joy. And, there was a greater emphasis on skill than building muscles.

V. Ramnarayan writes about an era that is forever gone. The Third Man: Recollections From a Life in Cricket is actually a celebration of the 1960s and the 1970s. That was a vibrant phase for domestic cricket. The stands were full for Ranji Trophy matches, the stars did not shy away from these games, and cricketers duelled it out for negligible cash.

For those magnificent men in whites, it was a question of pride. Driving them was that burning urge to test their skills against a variety of opposition, earn recognition from the fellow cricketers and the audience.

It’s an honest book by a respected former off-spinner from a cricketing family; his brother V. Sivaramakrishnan was a durable and successful first class batsman. Ramnarayan’s brief but largely rewarding career had an instance or two of searing disappointments. However, he does not come as someone bitter about the past. The off-spinner is happy and content, often reliving the times gone by and taking as much as possible from them. Importantly, he has not allowed those moments to fly away.

Ramnarayan missed out on Test cricket, rather unluckily as well since he had to contend with two world class spinners Erapalli Prasanna and S. Venkatraghavan his own zone, the South. This also explains the book’s name — The Third Man. Not wearing the India cap does not make him a lesser cricketer. In fact, several lesser spinners have turned out for the country.

From 1975 to 1981, he picked up 96 first class wickets from 25 games, was considered good enough to make the Rest of India side for the Irani Trophy, and was among the India probables.

He has a story to tell and, in the process, has painted a vivid picture of culture and cricket in two contrasting cities, the conservative and disciplined Madras and the relaxed, Nawabi Hyderabad.

Popular writer and television commentator Harsha Bhogle says in his foreword, “Ramnarayan takes me back to a wonderful world of cricket in Hyderabad; listening to it and reading about it as a child and playing it as a young adult.” Bhogle adds, “He writes with equal, if not greater, feeling about Madras cricket.”

Unable to break into the Tamil Nadu side that had two formidable spinners, Venkatraghavan and V.V. Kumar, he landed a banking job — much sought after by cricketers those days — and shifted to Hyderabad. After a period of struggle where his team-mates and friends Nagesh Hamand, Lyn Edwards and Sultan Saleem guided Ramnarayan through a demanding time, the off-spinner took flight.

The star-studded Hyderabad Ranji side was not short of characters. M.L. Jaisimha, a stylist with that unmistakable swagger and a bundle of ideas, was a captain who often instilled doubts in a batsman’s mind about the pitch by deliberately taking time to set fields, position fielders close to the bat, and constantly give the impression that something was about to happen. Tactically, he was suave.

The regal Tiger Pataudi would put those around him with ease despite his stature. Writes Ramnarayan, “Pataudi was the first superstar of Indian cricket, arguably more charismatic than anyone before or after him to don India colours. The reasons were not far to seek; his brilliant wit and repartee as much as his striking good looks, superb athleticism and positive cricket.”

The book has humour aplenty as Ramnarayan recollects delightful nuggets. The likes of Ashok ‘Kaka’ Mankad, Salim Durrani and T.E. Srinivasan may the last of a breed. Cricket then had greater space, the players mixed more, spent quality time travelling together in trains and exchanged ideas. Nowadays, the players rush through their ridiculously packed schedules — the off-season has gone straight out of the window — and monotony has replaced laughs.

Ramnarayan writes on his pick of international and domestic cricketers. He does not hide his admiration for his idol Jim Laker, the gifted Gundappa Viswanath, and that genius, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar. The book has its heart in the right place.

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