Gavaskar’s
arrival was indicative of the fact that Indian cricket had come of age. The
spin quartet of Erapalli Prasanna, Bhagwat Chandrasekhar, Srinivas
Venkataraghavan and Bishen Singh Bedi were at the height of their powers. Gavaskar
showed that fast bowling could not only be tackled but also scored off, in a
prolific if not dominant fashion. Before him, Indian batsmen, with some notable
exceptions, had the dubious reputation of stepping away to leg when confronted
with genuine pace, and floundering against swing. Gavaskar changed it all.
There
was a new captain at the helm, Ajit Wadekar, on that path-breaking tour of the
Caribbean in 1971, ending at least for the time being the Pataudi era which had
also begun in the West Indies nine years
earlier. The signs were ominous as India
won the second Test at Port of Spain
by 7 wickets. It was India ’s
first victory over the West Indies in six
series, home and away, and helped clinch the rubber, with the other four Tests
drawn. Gavaskar scored 65 and 67 not out on debut, and gave solid starts in
both innings along with Bombay
(now Mumbai) colleague Ashok Mankad.
Two
other Bombay stars made it a habit of pulling India out of
troubled waters. In the first Test at Kingston ,
with India
tottering at 75 for five, Dilip Sardesai (212) and Eknath Solkar (61) put on
137 runs to help raise a respectable total of 387. With no play on the first
day, the follow-on could be enforced in the four-day Test with a lead of 150
runs, and Wadekar in his maiden Test as captain inflicted this ignominy on the
hosts. The ageing Rohan Kanhai and skipper Garfield Sobers brought back
memories of their halcyon days in a match-saving fourth-wicket partnership of
173 runs. Kanhai scored 56 and 158 not out, and Sobers 44 and 93. It seemed
that the experienced middle-order would have to see the West
Indies through, for the bowling was depleted, with Sobers having
to bowl long stints.
It
was not to be. Sobers and Kanhai did not fire in the second Test, and Clive
Lloyd was a disappointment through the series. India won the Test with ease,
heralding one of the happiest phases in their history, and marking the
beginning of the end of Sobers’ days as leader. The brilliant side that he had
inherited from Worrell, and which flowered under him in the mid-sixties, had
all but disintegrated. In that triumph at Port of Spain ,
after Gavaskar’s promising debut, once again Sardesai (112) and Solkar (55)
added 114 for the fifth wicket to give India a handsome first innings
lead. Then as Wadekar, in a master-stroke, brought on the tall left-arm spinner
Salim Durrani who castled Lloyd (15) and Sobers (0), India were on the road to victory.
Gavaskar ultimately brought up the win in the company of Abid Ali.
That
was the point when Indian cricket earned its self-respect, and emerged from the
shadows onto the world stage. The man to show the way was the little opener.
Rarely has one man done so much to change the fortunes of a nation’s sport.
Inevitably, Gavaskar’s maiden Test century came in the next innings. He scored
116, once again laying a solid foundation to the Indian innings along with
Mankad, and helping India
take the first innings lead. It took an unbroken 170-run fourth-wicket stand
between Charlie Davis and Sobers, unbeaten with 125 and 108 respectively, to
save the day for the West Indies . Sobers’
declaration provided the opportunity to Gavaskar to score his third sixty. This
time he clocked up an unbroken century stand with Mankad, worth 123 when stumps
were finally drawn.
The
only innings in which Gavaskar failed in the series was at Bridgetown when he was caught at mid-wicket
off debutant paceman Uton Dowe for 1. Yet again Sardesai (150) and Solkar (65)
retrieved the situation, this time from an even more abysmal 70 for six, faced
with a huge West Indies score of 501 for five declared. Sobers had scored a
monumental unbeaten 178 and put on 167 for the fourth wicket with Davis . On this occasion
Sardesai and Solkar were associated in a 186-run partnership. The tailenders
held on with Sardesai to save the follow-on. Sobers set India a target
of 335 to win in a little over five hours. The run chase was never on and
Gavaskar, in his own words, played “purely a defensive innings” of 117 not out,
though he did fire a few rousing shots including a hooked six off Dowe. The
Test was saved.
On
the eve of the six-day final Test, again at Trinidad ,
Gavaskar developed severe toothache and spent a sleepless night. He had to wait
for his troublesome tooth to be extracted till the Test was over and was denied
pain-killers even at night on the plea that they would make him drowsy during
play. Mankad had fractured his right wrist fending off a Dowe snorter in the
second innings at Bridgetown , and his
replacement Kenia Jayantilal broke his thumb in the intervening match at Dominica . As a
result Abid Ali accompanied Gavaskar at the top of the order. Sobers, under
pressure to square the series, opened the bowling, sending down a torrid spell.
Abid Ali fell for 10 and Wadekar for 28. Gavaskar and Sardesai then put on 122,
the little opener batting through the pain to score 124.
Sobers
was indeed a determined man. He hit up 132, putting on 183 for the fifth wicket
with Davis
(105). West Indies piled up 526, a lead of
166. The pressure was on India .
Gavaskar was now weak and worn out, still in pain, unable to eat or sleep
properly, and having fielded for long hours in hot and humid conditions. Sobers
was again sharp with the new ball, trapping Abid Ali early. Wadekar, though,
helped Gavaskar add 148 runs.
The
battle lines were drawn on the fifth day as Gavaskar soldiered on. He completed
his second century of the Test to a huge ovation, with some of the spectators
invading the pitch. He began the final day on 180, in very poor physical
condition. And when he cover-drove Dowe to bring up his double hundred, all
hell broke loose. The delirious crowd hoisted him high and literally played
around with the little fellow. It was only the second time in Test history,
after Doug Walters’ 242 and 103 against the West Indies
in 1968-69, that a hundred and double hundred had been scored in the same game.
Gavaskar had progressed to 220 when he finally chopped a ball on to his stumps.
The next highest was Wadekar’s 54. Now at last Gavaskar could get his tooth
extracted. It was a painstaking effort, literally, that ensured a landmark
series triumph for the country.
The
West Indies needed 262 to win with time
running out. In the end their ninth-wicket pair hung on precariously to eke out
a draw. Such was Gavaskar’s memorable, and phenomenal, initiation in Test
cricket. No one had scored so many runs, 774, on first appearance. That was in
just four Tests, and his average of 154.80 would have made Bradman proud. The
entire cricketing world was now talking about this 21-year-old. Over the next
sixteen years Gavaskar earned the admiration and respect of players, critics
and fans alike, and came to be rated as one of the greatest opening batsmen
ever.
It
might not have been a top-class West Indies bowling attack and Sobers may have
dropped him on a couple of occasions, but Gavaskar displayed a wonderful
technique, a wide range of strokes, patience, determination, resilience and a
tremendous will to battle on in the face of acute physical discomfort. Surely,
this little young man was out of the ordinary.
His
great predecessor Len Hutton paid Gavaskar the ultimate tribute, naming one of
the chapters of his book Fifty Years in
Cricket, ‘Gavaskar and Other Greats’. Hutton wrote: “I have the feeling
that if he had been born English or Australian, many of the better judges would
have been tempted to bracket him with Bradman. Gavaskar is not as good as
Bradman, but very close, which automatically puts him in the very highest class
of batsmen of all time. He is a small, compact man, thicker set than Bradman,
but of a similar height, and, like all the true champions, can play off both
feet with equal facility. He uses a medium-weight bat and hits the ball hard
enough with precise accuracy to beat the fieldsman, but not hard enough to knock
it out of shape. He cuts, pulls and drives the half-volley beautifully, often
through mid-wicket, and to back his natural accomplishments, he has the
concentration, willpower and temperament of a record-breaker. I admire too, the
positive and quick movements of his feet and the almost feline grace with which
he gets into position to deal with the bouncer.”
That
was high praise indeed from one who was a great opening batsman himself. Hutton
rated Gavaskar’s 221 at the Oval in 1979 as one of the best double centuries he
saw, which “should at the very least be bracketed with Stan McCabe’s 232 at Trent Bridge
and Wally Hammond’s 240 at Lord’s (both in 1938).” That was certainly one of
Gavaskar’s finest innings, as technically perfect as it could get.
In
the fourth innings India
needed an unprecedented 438 to win in 500 minutes. At stumps on the fourth day,
India
were 76 for no loss. There were 362 required in 360 minutes on the final day.
Even the Indian fans, despite Gavaskar, thought it was improbable. Gavaskar and
his partner, Chetan Chauhan batted on untroubled. By lunch they had taken the
score to 169. When Chauhan was taken by Ian Botham off Bob Willis for 80, they
had put on 213 runs. Dilip Vengsarkar joined his Bombay teammate. He too batted fluently. At
tea India
were 304 for one. Now there were 134 runs left.
I
remember there was a large group of us who had booked tickets for a late night
cinema in New Delhi .
Ever the cricket diehard, I was not going to miss this one. I took my radio
along. There I was in that dark theatre with the transistor pressed against my
ear, straining to listen to BBC’s Test Match Special with the volume low. I did
not follow much of the movie, with my mind’s eye far away in London following each ball as intently as
Gavaskar would be watching it.
The
movie began around the time the first of the twenty mandatory overs, in the
last hour, was bowled. Just prior to this a worried English captain Mike
Brearley had slowed down the over-rate. India were 328 for one; 110 needed
at five-and-a-half runs an over. Gavaskar brought up his double century. With
12 overs left the score was 366 for one. Vengsarkar fell for 52, and then Kapil
Dev for a duck. Gavaskar sailed along in the company of Yashpal Sharma. Then at
389, in a bid to raise the tempo, he lifted his on-drive just a bit and was
gleefully snapped up at mid-on. Gavaskar’s innings was one of the epics of Test
cricket. A few more wickets fell, and in
the end India were left 9
runs short of victory, England
two wickets. It was a draw, but if draws can be so exciting, who needs results?
Twenty-nine years on, I remember that magnificent knock vividly, though for the
life of me I cannot recall the name of the movie. Maybe some day I will ask the
young lady who was sitting next to me that exhilarating evening. Even today I
can feel the thrill.
That
is the joy of Test cricket, of following the deeds of great players, and indeed
listening to good radio commentary. Radio commentary stimulated the mind,
worked up the imagination, and transported one to a distant land. Live telecast
is not always a good substitute, for instance you cannot watch it with a movie
showing up ahead on a wide screen, nor while driving or in the middle of a
forest or meadow. Internet, by comparison, is flat soda.
After
the euphoria of his maiden Test series in 1971, Gavaskar took nearly five years
to reproduce the kind of form expected of a top-ranking batsman. During that
phase he appeared in four series, scoring 693 runs in 13 Tests at an average of
27.72, with one hundred, which was rated as one of his best, on a green wicket
against a quality English attack in bitterly cold Manchester in 1974. Gavaskar resurrected his
career during the tour to New Zealand
in 1975-76 when he captained, and won, his first Test at Auckland in the absence of the regular
skipper Bishen Singh Bedi. That was the Test in which the left-handed Surinder
Amarnath emulated his father Lala Amarnath by scoring a century on Test debut.
Gavaskar himself got a hundred, putting on 204 with Amarnath. Prasanna took
eight wickets in the second innings to set up the victory.
Gavaskar’s
love affair with Sabina Park , Port
of Spain , was to continue in the series that followed.
Returning to the venue of his heroics of five years earlier, Gavaskar scored 156
in the second Test. Had rain not washed out the first day’s play, India would
have surely won the game. Incessant rain in Georgetown
forced the next Test to be staged again at Port of Spain . West Indies, already 1-0 up,
dominated the Test. Skipper Clive Lloyd declared his second innings at lunch on
the fourth day, after Alvin Kallicharran had completed his century, setting India 403 to
win.
Only
once had a Test been won by a team scoring over 400 runs in the fourth innings.
That was by Bradman’s Invincibles at Headingley in 1948 with The Don himself
scoring a big hundred. Anshuman Gaekwad helped Gavaskar raise 69 upfront.
Mohinder Amarnath came in, and at stumps India were 134 for one, with
Gavaskar on 86.
Now
there were 269 runs left with 9 wickets in hand, and the whole day’s play. The
pitch was also holding up well. At breakfast in my New
Delhi college, a cricketing mate and I agreed that India
could, or rather would, do it. And so it turned out. Gavaskar brought up yet
another hundred at Sabina
Park , but fell soon
thereafter for 102, with the total at 177. Amarnath (85) and Gundappa Viswanath
(112) put on 159, and Brijesh Patel fired the final shots in his unbeaten 49. India
won by six wickets, to draw level in the series.
Lloyd’s
captaincy was now on the line. Having received a 1-5 drubbing at the hands of
the Aussies only a few months earlier, this defeat had shaken the faith of the
supporters. The infamous bloodbath of Kingston
followed, and the West Indies clinched the
series. Gaekwad was struck a frightening blow on the head, bringing back the
nightmare of Bridgetown
1962 when Nari Contractor was hit by Charlie Griffith.
Such
was the impact of Gavaskar’s batting on Indian cricket, and he certainly shook
the West Indies then. He equalled Bradman’s
record of 29 hundreds at New Delhi during the
1983-84 series against the West Indies . In the
next Test at Ahmedabad he overtook Geoff Boycott’s record Test aggregate. It
was in the sixth and final Test of that rubber at Madras
(now Chennai) that Gavaskar hit up his, and at the time India ’s,
highest Test score of 236 not out, thereby bringing up his 30th
century. Sick of squaring up to thunderbolts throughout his career, Gavaskar
asked to be allowed to bat at no. 4. Imagine, then, his shock when the fearsome
Malcolm Marshall dismissed Gaekwad and Vengsarkar off successive balls in his
second over without a run on the board.
I
recall the scene very clearly - Gavaskar rushing out to bat under his white
floppy hat, the quaint skull cap peeping out, hurriedly putting on his arm
guard and gloves. The first ball that Gavaskar received from Marshall was short and bounced chest high.
Gavaskar got right behind and played a model back foot defensive stroke.
Instantly, and instinctively, one knew that he was going to score big that day.
Vivian Richards wandered past Gavaskar after Marshall had completed the fiery over,
drawling ,”Maan, wherever you baat, the score is still zeero!” It told an
eloquent tale.
At
Ahmedabad, in the fourth Test against Imran Khan’s Pakistani touring team of
1986-87, Gavaskar climbed cricket’s Everest, becoming the first batsman to
score 10,000 runs in Test matches. It was an unforgettable moment as he cut
off-spinner Ijaz Fakih and ran head down with his bat held aloft. This was the
second hitherto insurmountable peak that the little man had conquered after the
30th hundred.
There
was now just one Test left, the fifth and final one of the attritional series,
which had so far provided no result. It was played on a rank turner at Bangalore . India needed
221 to win in the fourth innings. As the ball jumped and turned square,
Gavaskar played one of the great Test innings. He battled on, finally being
caught for 96 off one that leapt, technically one of the finest innings ever
played, sure-footed and precise of strokeplay. This was to be the last time
that Gavaskar was seen in the Test arena. If Bradman fell four runs short of a
hundred average, Gavaskar fell four short of a hundred in his final Test innings.
He finished with an unprecedented 10,122 runs at an average of 51.12 and 34
hundreds in 125 Tests, holding a record 108 catches for India until
Rahul Dravid took more. He scored hundreds in each innings of a Test thrice, a
record that was emulated by Ricky Ponting. Gavaskar’s feat included a century
and double century in his fourth Test.
In
one last display of brilliance, Gavaskar scored a magnificent 188 at Lord’s
that summer in the MCC bicentenary match against the likes of Marshall and
Richard Hadlee. His driving and cutting were models for youngsters to emulate,
a superb exhibition of exquisite strokeplay.
Whenever
Gavaskar is remembered there is immense nostalgia for his masterly technique.
Yet his exemplary courage played an equal role in his huge success. Never were
there so many fast bowlers as in the 1970s and 1980s. Gavaskar tamed nearly all
of them. He scored 13 Test centuries against the West Indies, and let not
anyone tell you that some of these were in his debut series, when their pace
attack was not world-class, or during the Packer years when the greats had
switched loyalties; for Gavaskar scored hundreds against them all - Roberts,
Holding, Garner and Marshall.
Indeed
he scored mountains of runs when pitted against almost all the other legendary
pacemen: Sarfraz Nawaz, Imran Khan, Bob Willis, Jeff Thomson, Richard Hadlee,
Ian Botham and Wasim Akram, among others. The only great he did not collar was
Dennis Lillee, whom he faced in only three Tests. In the last of those he had
got to 70 in the third Test at Melbourne in 1980-81 in an opening stand of 165
with Chetan Chauhan, but got infuriated at being given out leg-before to Lillee
when he inside-edged the ball on to his pad.
That
incident when he almost took Chauhan off the ground with himself was evidence
of the proud performer that Gavaskar was. He had failed in all the previous
five innings of the series. Now when he had fought hard and was on course
towards that elusive hundred, and knew that he had been deprived by a poor umpiring
decision, he exploded.
It
was an aberration, as was that crawl in the first match of the World Cup at
Lord’s in 1975; when he called the selectors “court jesters” in 1979; and when
he wrote that vitriolic article against Bishen Singh Bedi during the Lord’s
Test of 1990. Just as he stood up to the most frightening pace bowling,
Gavaskar has always shown courage of conviction to stand by what he has felt is
right. He stood up for Indian umpires against the condescending attitude of the
English and Australians, displaying, not surprisingly, contempt for Australian
umpiring. After three bad experiences with the Calcutta
crowd, he refused to play in the 1986-87 Eden Gardens Test against Pakistan
when on the threshold of his 10,000 runs. Offended by the officious behaviour
and cricketing ignorance of a security guard at Lord’s, Gavaskar refused to
accept membership of the MCC when it was first offered to him, calling it just
another club. He has always stuck up for Indian players when they have been
unfairly targetted by foreign media.
Having written extensively,
including four books, been a commentator and presenter right since his
retirement 24 years ago, and later actively associated with the Board of
Control for Cricket in India (BCCI) and International Cricket Council (ICC),
along with his tremendous achievements on the field, Gavaskar has perhaps been
the most influential man in the game after Bradman.
(Author Indra Vikram Singh
can be contacted on email singh_iv@hotmail.com).
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