When Viv Was King
Remembering the swagger and audacity of Sir Vivian Richards
In all of Cricketdom, I doubt there is anyone who would seriously challenge the view that Viv Richards was one of the best and most intimidating players to wield a blade. At the crease he played with a confidence and with a swagger that suggested to all that he was in charge of proceedings, and the bowlers and fielders were there to serve at his pleasure.
I first saw him in the flesh during Packer’s World Series Supertest at Sabina Park, Jamaica in 1979. He didn’t make all that many, 40-odd if I recall on the day I was there, but his stay in the middle was unforgettable. Of all the West Indian players on show I found him the easiest to spot, despite the presence of giants like Joel Garner and Colin Croft. Vividly etched in my mind were the Antiguan’s regal gait, the leisurely way he jogged a single -- as if daring the fielders to throw him out -- and, most importantly, the grandeur of his strokeplay.
To my juvenile mind, Viv could do whatever pleased him in the moment. The great man could manhandle any attack, hit any delivery to the boundary, bring any bowler to their knees were he so minded. As far as I was concerned he could make a hundred anytime he liked, and only boredom, perhaps, or some sort of chivalry, prevented him from doing so. Whenever he was focused and in the mood, however, nothing could stop him.
This wasn’t true, of course, not even Bradman, the most assured maker of runs ever, could do that. But to me, and my schoolmates, fully consumed by the great game, there was nobody like Viv. Nobody had come onto the scene and played with such fearlessness and aplomb.
The first time I remember us doubting his omnipotence was during the 1983 World Cup finals at Lord’s, when, despite starting his innings like a runaway locomotive, he failed to bring us the title we thought was ours by right. The West Indies had won the first two World Cup competitions, and being the world’s best team by some distance, we felt all we had to do to collect our third title was turn up.
We were sadly mistaken, and the Caribbean was plunged into mourning when our champion team failed to chase a paltry 183, falling 43 runs short, gifting India their first World Cup trophy.
Earlier that same year India toured the West Indies. The first test in Kingston was, for the most part, a rather pedestrian affair. West Indies replied to India’s 251 with 254; the fourth day was lost due to rain, and with 168/6 at tea on the last day the game seemed headed for a dull draw.
Andy Roberts had other ideas, however, and his highly effective post-tea spell, generously sprinkled with short, climbing deliveries proved too much for the
visitors and they were dismissed for 174, leaving the West Indies a target of 172 runs in about 28 overs.
What followed was the most exciting session of cricket I have ever witnessed. This was chiefly due to an innings of 61 made from 36 deliveries from Sir Viv – the innings he regards as the best of his career.
The Master Blaster strode to the wicket with the score at 65/2, took his guard, and viewed the surroundings like a monarch surveying his domain. His first scoring stroke was a massive six, and he then proceeded to fire the crowd into a frenzy. Fielders were surplus to requirements; Viv simply bisected them, even with almost everyone manning the boundary. Boundary ropes were redundant; Viv simply lifted deliveries into the crowd.
When he fell, caught by Kapil Dev off Mohinder Amarnath, his team was 156/5 with 16 runs needed. A few minutes later Jeffrey Dujon blasted a full toss for six to achieve an impossible victory in fast-fading light.
Nocturnal listeners to the commentary in India, halted at tea in those days and then updated in the morning hours, were flabbergasted to find they had lost a game they thought would have been a lackluster draw.
Viv’s was a Twenty20 innings long before the genre was invented. His strike rate of 169.4, nothing to scoff at today, was unreal in 1983. Three years later, when he dismembered an England attack in his homeland, Antigua, he was even more brutal, hitting a century off just 56 deliveries, a record that stood until 2005 when it was broken by New Zealander Brendon McCullum when he scored a 54-ball century against Australia. If Sir Viv could wreak such havoc in his time, imagine how much more devastating he would have been with today’s turbocharged bats, shorter boundaries, power plays and free hits.
How would he have measured up in today’s Indian Premier League, Caribbean Premier league and the other T20 leagues that now dominate the cricket landscape?
Obviously, there is no way of knowing. But, I would guess that he’d be the major star in any league he chose to bless with his talents. And just as he ruled the world those years ago, he would still be King today.