A score to settle

VIV Richards has showered his gifts on grounds all over the world but to me, he shall always be the King of Delhi and New Delhi, his court the Ferozeshah Kotla. My last column recalled the magnificent 192 not out he made there in December 1974. When West Indies played in Delhi in 1978 he was absent, away in Australia playing in Kerry Packer's circus. The tourists were led by the genius who did not join Packer, Alvin Kallicharan. A depleted side lost to the Indians, but not before the 20-year-olds, Malcolm Marshall and Sylvester Clarke, had disturbed a batsman or two.

In 1983, the West Indians were restored to full strength, and smashed the home side to a pulp (they had a score to settle - the unexpected loss of the World Cup that summer in England). I saw some of this winter tour on the TV - including 67 Richards scored in Delhi, and 100 hit in a one-dayer in Jamshedpur when he seemed to be waging two battles at once. One was with the Indian bowlers; the other with Gordon Greenidge, who scored a century at the other end. Both men had superbly orthodox techniques, but also a power denied to the Boycotts and the Gavaskars. In front of a motley crowd of honest Biharis and high Parsis, these teammates and rivals matched each other blow for blow, chiefly at the expense of Mohinder Amarnath. Richards would go down the track and loft Amarnath for four; in answer, Greenidge would hit the same bowler for six. The man who took three for 12 in the World Cup final ended with none for plenty. Honour was avenged, but all who watched the mayhem left with the unanswered question: Was Vivian Richards truly the finest West Indian batsman of his generation?

When, in November 1987, the King next appeared at the Kotla, I was there, by now well connected enough to have in my possession a five day pavilion pass. Not that I could make use of all of it. Twenty wickets fell in the first day (water in the wicket, I suspect); India all out for 75, the West Indies for 127. In the second knock three Indians made 40s - Arun Lal cautiously, Kapil Dev exuberantly, and Kiran More mischievously - batting around the captain Dilip Vengsarkar, who scored a flawless 100. The visitors were left to make 276 to win, on a worn wicket and against three able spinners. For the last hour on the third day and the first session of the fourth, it was anybody's game. The off-spinner Arshad Ayub took three wickets; these included the highly estimable duo of Greenidge and Desmond Haynes. Richards came in at 91 for three; it was soon 111 for four. Though a day and a half remained, the West Indian captain also knew that if the runs did not come quickly they might not come at all. Ayub was hit wide of midwicket and over it, and out of the attack. Facing Maninder Singh, Richards made room to the leg side, and hit him through and over cover. Shastri came on, a tall and mean Bombay bowler made to order for a dusty and deteriorating wicket. He was struck, savagely, past point. The left-armer went over the wicket, a last desperate throw of the dice. Two identical balls, fired in low on leg stump, went in two completely different directions, one past square leg and the other straight down the ground. He ended with 109 not out, and the West Indies had won in a canter.

The next November I was in Melbourne for a conference, my visit coinciding with a tour of the West Indies. For three days I was shut up in a seminar room at the La Trobe University, discussing the rights of subordinated peoples. There were papers on Dalits and Australian aborigines, on Amazonian Indians and Bolivian mine workers. The organisers should have, I think now in retrospect, commissioned a paper on the rights of bowlers bludgeoned to submission by the bat of I.V.A. Richards.

I was due to return to India the day after the meeting was dispersed; thankfully, my flight was in the evening. It was the Sunday of the Adelaide Test, and I hoped to steal some time in the students' common room. When I reached there I had the TV all to myself; the students were in the city or on the beach. Richards came in at about 50 for two, with Craig McDermott on song. The fast bowler bounced, the king ducked. The next ball was a lovely late outswinger which took the edge and flew to slip, where a nervous Australian dropped the catch. That was it. A second bouncer was hit into the Clarrie Grimmett stand. He took fierce toll of the quickies, drives and pulls in the main. Alan Border brought on the off-spinner, Tim May. May was swept fine and hit gloriously to cover, inside out while on the walk, a trademark Richards shot. He had scored 69 in an hour when he top- edged a sweep to deep square leg. I could leave for the airport, content with what I had seen.

The next November was the third in succession that I saw Richards play, this time in Delhi during the Nehru Cup. The West Indies batted first but the king failed, playing over a full pitch from Amarnath. The innings was steadied by Gus Logie and Malcolm Marshall, a fast bowler who could bat when he put his mind to it. West Indies had made about 200 in 50 overs, at most times ample enough for Marshall and company. But this was an Indian track, slow and low, and although Srikkanth went early Raman Lamba and Azharuddin took the score to 80 without further loss. The West Indian captain put himself on, and showed immediately that it was his wicket, and his day.

Three fine batsmen - Azhar, Amarnath and Shastri - all fell the same way, chipping flighted off breaks to mid on. Then Kiran More came in, a doughty fighter, India's last hope, and also a loud mouth in the field detested by his opponents. The first ball he faced was Richards' faster one. He shuffled across, the ball pitched on leg stump and hit him below the knee, covering middle and off. The umpire raised his finger, and Richards sent More on his way with a gesture of almost inexpressible vulgarity. If there were match referees in those days he would have been on the bench for the rest of the season.

Richards finished with six for 29, winning this match with the ball as he had done two previous Kotla Tests with the bat. Three years later I saw him for the last time, in England during the summer of 1991. From Oxford I made three separate trips to London, once for an one-day international, once for a Test match, once for the tour match against Middlesex. In the one-dayer, which England won, Richards played a cameo of 40-odd, striking Richard Illingworth over long off exactly as 17 years previously, he had struck an infinitely greater slow left-armer in New Delhi. He scored a few more runs in the Test, but in uncharacteristically subdued fashion. There was however one moment of total recall. When Philip De Frietas pitched short, Richards hit him into the Tavern.

My feelings regarding Vivian Richards were anticipated by a Yorkshire cricket lover watching Don Bradman in the summer of 1948. He loved him, for his brilliant batsmanship, and hated him, for all those runs scored against his side. As Bradman walked off the Headingley ground for the last time, having hit 173 not out to take Australia to an emphatic victory, this Yorkshireman stopped the foreign foe on the pavilion steps. Eyes brimming with tears - tears of anger and of admiration - he spoke the two words that best expressed his complex emotions: "Yer booger!"

RAMACHANDRA GUHA

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