Kiwis to the fore

IN the history of New Zealand cricket, there have been no wrist- spinners of distinction, and no truly fast bowlers either. There have been some tolerably accomplished finger-spinners - the names of Hedley Howarth and John Bracewell come to mind - but none that were world-class. What the Kiwis have always had is a line of outstanding fast-medium swing and seam bowlers. They include Jack Cowie, who played Test cricket either side of World War II, Dick Motz and Bruce Taylor - all of whom were right-arm bowlers - as well as the giant left-hander Richard Collinge.

The tradition of Kiwi swing bowling was taken to its greatest heights by Richard Hadlee. Hadlee was the son of a Test player and the younger brother of another. Though he could wield a bat, he is known rather for what he could do with the ball. In February 1976, playing at the Basin Reserve in Wellington, one of the coldest, and most inhospitable, cricket grounds in the world, he destroyed Bishan Bedi's touring side with seven for 23, the wickets taken in eight overs. All this with no help from the umpires, for three Indians were bowled and four caught. Exactly two years later, and on the same ground, he took six for 26 to see his country to their first ever Test win over England.

For another decade and more, Richard Hadlee would destroy batting sides all over the world with his fabulous control of swing and cut. In 1988, aged 37, Hadlee came to India to get the few wickets he needed to go past Ian Botham's record of 373 Test wickets. I saw him off and on the television, and was struck by the rhythmic run-up, the high action and the late movement this way and that, exactly which way decided by a last-minute flick of the wrist. It was evident the Indian batsmen could not "read" him. It was in Bangalore on November 12, that Hadlee had Arun Lal caught at second slip to go past Botham's record. I saw that on the box, for I had just moved to take up a job in Delhi. If I had had the sense to join a month later I would have seen it at the ground.

Hadlee's own record of 432 Test wickets was broken, of course, by Kapil Dev. When Kapil went past him, the New Zealander told an interviewer that Kapil had played many more Test matches than he had. Especially in India, this was regarded as bad form. But Hadlee might not have had to make the point if Kapil himself had been wise to it. When Sunil Gavaskar scored his 30th Test hundred, for example, almost the first thing he told the press was that Donald Bradman had scored his own 29 hundreds in far fewer innings. I myself do not consider Hadlee's remark to be ungenerous. Fast bowling is awfully hard work - would one not remember the wickets and how quickly they came? After Kapil Dev had retired as well, there was this lovely exchange on television between Hadlee and that worthy English bowler Bob Willis. They were commentating on a World Cup match played in Ahmedabad, and the conversation went like this:

Hadlee: "This is the ground where the great Kapil Dev broke the world record for the most number of Test wickets,"

Willis: "And whose record was that?"

Hadlee (mischievously): "It wasn't yours:"

Willis (wistfully): "No - my legs gave out after 325."

In how the game of cricket is viewed from within or without, there is a terrific prejudice in favour of batsmen. In the summer of 1956, when Richard Hadlee was a boy of five, Australia were in the middle of a tour of England when Buckingham Palace announced that Len Hutton was to be knighted. The next week, when the tourists played Yorkshire at Headingley, Arthur Mailey walked across to where Hutton was sitting and said: "Congratulations, Sir Leonard. But I hope next time it will be a bowler. The last bowler to be knighted was Francis Drake." Hobbs and Bradman, two batsmen, preceded Hutton, while Worrell, Cowdrey, and Sobers - a batsman and two batting all-rounders - were to follow him. That is the background against which we must honour Sir Richard Hadlee, the first bowler to be knighted since Sir Francis Drake.

In his early days in Test cricket, Richard Hadlee sometimes shared the new ball with Lance Cairns. Now, from the commentary box, he watches with pleasure the doings on the field of Lance's tall son, Chris. The younger Cairns is the most gifted cricketer to play for New Zealand since Hadlee himself hung up his boots. He bowls a lively fast-medium, swinging the ball away in the air and cutting it back sharply off the seam. He bats in the lower middle-order, with a freedom and a range of strokes that at times matches that of Tendulkar or Lara or Saeed Anwar.

Indians have felt the taste of Cairns' bat, though mostly in the one-day game. Recall a fabulous hundred he hit against us at Nagpur about five years ago, or the 102 not out he scored to take his side to victory in the final of last year's ICC Trophy, played in Kenya. Thankfully, other countries have also suffered at his hands. In an early match of the 1999 World Cup, he hit three straight sixes off Shane Warne, taking his side to an upset win over their most detested rivals. Later that summer, I watched Cairns play a match-winning innings in a Test against England. He came down the wicket to Philip Tufnell, mis-hit slightly, but the shot cleared mid on and landed a yard over the ropes. Next over he came down again, and as the ball hit the willow's middle the stump microphone caught Cairns saying: "That's better" (the last word pronounced, in Kiwi style, as "bay-tur"). It was too, the ball landing in the 20th row of the grandstand.

Chris Cairns was unquestionably the man of this 1999 Test series, scoring runs at a fast clip, fielding well, and taking wickets when most needed. I recall especially his dismissal in one Test of that dogged left-hander, Grand Thorpe. For the first two- thirds of its journey, the ball seemed to both batsman and viewer to be a beamer, coming fast and straight at head height. Thorpe, naturally, ducked, but the ball suddenly dipped, slowed and dived down between his feet to disturb the base of the middle stump. I cannot remember a slower ball more spectacularly or more effectively disguised. Even Richard Hadlee would have been proud of that one.

RAMACHANDRA GUHA

The writer is the editor of the recently released Picador Book of Cricket.

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