“Who is the most important cricketer to have played the game?” The question, asked by a cricket lover (as opposed to a mere fan) had me for a moment. A list began forming in my head: W.G. Grace, Victor Trumper, Don Bradman, Ranjitsinhji, Jack Hobbs, C.B. Fry, Garry Sobers, Imran Khan, Mike Brearley… and finally settled on the answer: Sir Frank Worrell, who would have turned 100 on August 1.
Grace laid down the grammar of the game and was one of its great all-rounders, Trumper and Sobers were geniuses, Hobbs scored more first class runs than anybody else, Bradman’s average is more than 35 runs ahead of the next best, Imran became Prime Minister and for a while was the most important man in his country. Brearley is the game’s greatest captain, a philosopher and psychoanalyst with a “degree in people”.
Yet, Worrell, who fits into this group as a top player — “an innings by him knows no dawn,” wrote Neville Cardus, “it begins at high noon” — was the ideal cricketer. His career was the response to the game’s most famous question – C.L.R. James’s ‘what do they know of cricket who only cricket know?’ It was rich, its influence wide-ranging and lasting. He was the dean of students at the University of the West Indies, a senator in Jamaica, a natural diplomat and a leader of men.
Unifier
By unifying disparate island-countries and building a world-class team, he ensured “West Indies” became a single entity in the sport. As Hilary Beckles, Vice Chancellor of the University of the West Indies, wrote, “Societies in the West Indies, and the wider cricketing world, were irretrievably altered by him. Neither before nor since has a cricketer had such a profound, lasting impact on the values of the game.”
James, then the editor of The Nation, led the campaign to have Worrell made captain. When Worrell, the first black man to lead in a series, took the team to Australia in 1960-61, he found an ally in rival skipper Richie Benaud. The teams played attractive cricket to pump life into the sport after it had become overly defensive the previous decade. Brisbane saw the first Tied Test. Lakhs of fans lined up the streets in Melbourne to wish Worrell and his team goodbye.
“I want us to play as a team on the field, and live as a family off it,” he told his players. When he asked his dangerous fast bowler Roy Gilchrist (who was “completely lacking in conscience,” according to one writer) not to bowl a bouncer, he obeyed. In fact, the bowler sometimes drove over to his captain’s residence for advice on shirts to buy.
Giving back
When Worrell was given an honorary doctorate by the Punjab University in1967, among those he spoke to was Bishan Bedi. The Worrell philosophy of captaincy was probably discussed, for as Bedi’s colleague team Madan Lal told me, “Bedi was not just the captain, he was a total guide telling us what to eat, what to read and how to carry ourselves.” At the ceremony, Worrell spoke of the concept of giving back.
On that lecture tour, Worrell played a crucial role in getting West Indies and India to resume a Test which had been held up by a riot (tickets in excess of the capacity were sold, and there were running battles between the police and the spectators). The West Indies had decided to abandon the match and return home. Worrell asked to speak to the team. He told them how embarrassing it would be to the Indian people if they did that.
By then, Worrell was aware of his leukemia. He died just weeks later. He was 42.
Worrell finished with an average of just under 50 from 51 Tests, batting with an elegance and grace that made it special. He claimed 69 wickets with his left arm medium pace, besides.
Impressive for its time, but the more significant contribution was that, in the words of James, “he was possessed of an almost unbridled passion for social equality….his unobtrusive skill, his reserve and his dignity made him a great favourite…he had shown the West Indian mastery of what Western civilization had to teach…”