From Cricket to Ashes: Richie Benaud, OBE

Small screen, large persona: Richie Benaud

Raju Korti
If there is one regret that I will consciously carry to my grave it is of not being able to meet the legendary Richie Benaud. My heart-burn gets only accentuated when I realize that I had the privilege to meet and hold a cart-wheeling conversation with the most articulate of commentators from the BBC Test Match Special and the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC). John Arlott, Brian Johnston, Christopher Martin Jenkins, Don Mosley, Henry Blofeld, Alan Mcgilvray, Freddie Truman, Trevor Bailey and Richie Benaud were the kind broadcasters who could keep listeners spellbound on the radio with a free-flowing narrative that would conjure up vivid pictures of the actual Test match in progress. That kind of thrall and photographic description doesn't obtain today even with a large screen and given the garrulous breed of commentators today who spout a lot without conveying much.
Now that Richie has died at 84 peacefully in sleep, the world of cricket commentary has lost its sardonic wit and eloquence. I have only faint memories of the man since he hung up boots in 1964 when I was barely eight years old with an elementary understanding that there was a ball that meant to be hit with a willow. That was a different era with players of a different caliber and mindset. It was cricket in those days!
Truman, Bailey and Benaud were experts who could analyze the game with a clinical precision a seasoned physician would have envied. Truman was blunt and brutal who often sautéed his comments with a giggle to match. Bailey was so crisp, it would be a lesson in editing. With him, all words were carefully measured and weighed before they got the Bailey Status. Richie's words carried the seasoning of a dry, laconic humor without being prosaic. But of course, his legacy extends far beyond the microphone. He was also an exceptional all-round cricketer and one of Australia's finest captains. Splitting his time between Australia and England, he became the face of cricket in both countries for more than four decades, his trademark cream jacket becoming as synonymous with the sport as leather and willow. When asked to sum up his commentary style, he said his mantra was: "If you can add to what's on the screen then do it, otherwise shut up." There is a lesson for all those commentators, especially in India for whom commentating is mostly describing the field position and reading out the score-card.
Arlott, Johnston and Jenkins who were in a class of their own, often said they always looked up to Richie because he was peerless with the mike. In that sense, Richie had the satire of Arlott, the wit of Johnston and the free-flowing recountal of a Mcgilvray and yet, he was a class apart. He had this unique ability to introduce a high emotion quotient without being too temperamental about it. It was only a Richie who could comment with a non-chalant, blank face, "So Glenn Mcgrath is out on two, 98 short of his hundred when a Truman would have said the same thing with a worst giggle.
Quiet and authoritative, Richie's pun with words and knack of coining a memorable phrase made him a popular subject for affectionate mimicry among cricket fans in England and Down Under. His signature greeting of "Morning Everyone" became a household refrain, while his delicious delivery of the word "marvelous" seemed to make everything seem well with the world. Only he could pronounce "s" like "sh" and sound it so stylish. Talk of gift of the gab! He had patented the art of turning one-liners into cricketing folklores. It came through so breviloquently when after dashing his car into a brick wall in 2013 he said with his trademark wit, "I am more worried about the car than my own health."
I do not believe that Richie had anything left to prove, but it rankles to know that a man who left an indelible impression on the game should have departed in such an unsung manner. Tributes and accolades will keep pouring over the next few days, though for the man who was perhaps the most influential cricketer and cricket personality since the Second World War.
I will say this for him: His was the voice of conscience in a sport tainted by politics and driven by self-interest. Richie Benaud was so Australian and yet, arguably the most justifiable mascot of Cricket. There will never be another Benaud.