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| Sir Frank Worrel, Sir Everton Weekes and Sir Clyde Walcott |
There are people who you are never occasioned to meet in flesh and blood. Yet having heard and read them about them a lot, it is as if you know them personally from way back. Sir Everton Weekes, the redoubtable West Indian batting legend, who along with his equally illustrious compatriots Sir Clyde Walcott and Sir Frank Worrel, formed the famed three Ws in the annals of cricketing history is one such in my long list of mental desktop. Weekes died yesterday at 95 leaving behind two interesting but cruel happenstances that deprived him of what would have been a dream record. The first deprived him of a record consecutive sixth Test hundred in (then) Madras) after a controversial run out at 90. The other robbed him of a lifetime hundred when he looked fit even at 95.
As I said in a post earlier, Weekes, Worrel and Walcott are shining examples of destiny finding each other. All of them were born within 18 months and within three miles of each other in Barbados and were even delivered by the same midwife. They made their debuts in early 1948 against England and were middle order mainstays of the legendary West Indian side of the 50s, and were knighted for services to cricket. Worrel died aged 42 in 1967 after suffering from Leukamia while Walcott, who later became the manager of the West Indian team and served as Chairman, International Cricket Council, died in 2006.
Weekes bid adieu to Test cricket in 1958 when I was just in my diapers. Like all youngsters whose passion for the game developed in the dusty lanes of the city, I never missed reading and hearing anything that concerned my cricketing heroes. Our appetite was fueled and nourished by several magazines, notably among them being the Sports & Pastime which carried beautiful articles by the likes of Jack Fingleton, Jim Swanton, John Arlott, Sir Neville Cardus and many other sports journalists and commentators. Their simple, free-flowing, lucid and prosaic narration appealed to our juvenile minds more than the lyrical expression that Cardus was predisposed to. There was no TV to feed our visual delights then but what we read voraciously those days was probably more vivid.
Weekes became a part of our cricketing consciousness later. Sir Frank Worrel it was initially who carried all the halo around him, not only as the captain but as a great statesman of the game. It also had something to do with his premature passing when you consider that cricketers today, especially in the subcontinent, are reluctant to hang their boots because the bucks and stakes are too high. Our respect for Weekes went notches high when we learnt that he stopped playing because he no longer enjoyed it. And that was how it was when he opted out of administration for the same reason. Point to be noted! He played for the pleasure of it. He never hung around and dug his heels in for a few more years of limelight and money. That ethos was so royally West Indian.
There was another chord that struck an equation with him. As impressionable schoolboys we had all heard colorful stories about how the brawny-tough Barbadian side jealously guarded its invincible image. Folklore had it that people in West Indies wouldn't mind their national team losing but could never reconcile to Barbados losing out to any visiting team. Against the West Indies in Tests it was cricket, but against Barbados it was a prestigious battle. It was almost like "Never mind if East Bengal loses, Mohun Bagan shouldn't lose."
Although not mentioned anywhere, I am inclined to believe that Weekes played a huge role in shaping up this Barbadian psyche not only through his individual brilliance but by shrugging aside all social constraints and barriers. There is no denying that his charismatic influence must have rubbed off on his Barbados and national team. It is not my case here to reel out his exploits, distinctions, achievements to strut my argument as they are already known to anyone who has followed the game even without seeing him in action. Remember, Weekes and Barbados were already force to reckon with before another giant Sir Gary Sobers became world's arguably best cricketer to carry the mantle forward. When Weekes was limping into retirement, Sobers had just stepped into his shoes. The high standards set by 'Black Bradman' George Headley in the pre-war era had taken firm roots.
Not many have had the rare brew of being a top cricketer, commentator, administrator and human being. That reflected in the way his "live and let live" approach to life. There was a positive sparkle to his vibrant and patented Calypso upbringing. For a man born in 1925 in white plantocracy where social justice was not even notional Weekes lived his life of deprivation without harboring any hate and grudges. That conditioning reflected in the poise with which he graced the cricket crease. His only six in his 48-Test career with 15 centuries and an average of 58 showed, if anything, the mindset of a man who was so grounded in his thinking. More than anything else it needed guts to be fair and rational to accept a controversial run out in the 90s when it would have guaranteed him a lifetime record even in these times of cricketing overkill.
The West Indies has had a terrific legacy of players who have played the game as sport and not as a profession. It is probably this aspect of their gamesmanship -- the sheer thrill of playing rather than winning or losing -- that endears them to cricket lovers the world over. It is not therefore difficult to imagine Weekes at the batting crease play the shots that we all heard and read about. That is some consolation when you know that you have had the privilege of seeing the man only in YouTube clips.
With him I have gallivanted the expansive beaches of Barbados, played a game of Bridge, stood up when he hooked ferociously, sat by his side listening to his Caribbean-accent commentary and was present by his side when he walked upright to receive the knighthood at 90. All in my Utopian imagination. Wasn't it Weekes who once famously said "when one is fit, no distance is too long?".
