His strength came from within. And, this was maintained by his love and understanding of the laws of the cosmos. Knowing that such laws are impersonal, and are at work in all things, he was, at once, a great success in his brilliant, artistic voyages. Besides, he was more than mindful that the source of being is one, and that all things are connected by invisible threads of compassion, and light, for a specific purpose. Most importantly, he also realised that the many paradoxes of life, if one is/was non-observant, would remain a puzzle. Thus was born his deep conviction, in the effects of his grand work — with the red cherry.
He was aware too that the mind’s inner revolution was caused by one’s own thoughts — and, he increased his attempts, thereafter, even when the results did not come quickly. He waited patiently, and learned how to wait. This helped him to bring about the manifestation of self-evolution, without ego, or pride. His method was, indeed, a credo of radiated vision — one that gave a new dimension to the game. And, his objective was clear. He was a scientist with the psyche of a mystic, focused to observe keenly the phenomena of cricket in all its varied forms.
Sir Richard Hadlee was swing bowling’s first knight. His tryst with destiny, as one of the five talented sons of Walter Hadlee, began the first time he held the red cherry in his gifted hands. That he was loaded with tons of talent, and a fine cricketing brain, was no less obvious — right from the word go.
Hadlee showed a will to learn, from his formative years. The cricket field was his scientific laboratory; and, the mechanics of fast bowling, his observatory. He was also his own extent, and sentinel. Encouraged by his brother, Dayle, a fine Test paceman, and his team-mates, Hadlee was quick to ‘engineer’ his own style of fast bowling, which was geared to unsettling the best of batsmen — on any wicket.
When Hadlee made his Test debut against Pakistan, at Wellington, as a promising 21-year-old paceman, he did not take the world by storm. However, he did give notice that he was one great fast bowler of the future: intelligent and dedicated. From then on, his was a slow, but steady progress.
Hadlee bowled with a long run-up, in the early part of his career. And, he was all for speed. The more zippy his delivery, the more delighted he would be. The rewards too began to come his way. Predictably, he became a folk-hero in New Zealand.
Improvisation is part of life. Hadlee seemed to appreciate it more than anybody else. He constantly endeavoured to improve his bowling abilities — with better and better results.
Seven years after his Test debut, Hadlee, the good experimenter, thought of an ‘assay’ in the English county circuit. He had all along felt, in spite of his successful record, that he could do better. He reduced his run-up. The effect was dramatic. He raced to 100 wickets, for his county, Nottinghamshire, in a jiffy.
Hadlee was New Zealand’s one-man army. He was primarily instrumental in his country’s signal triumphs against Australia, England etc., in Test series, which New Zealand had never won before. In his absence, due to injury, or any other reason, New Zealand cricket looked fragile — almost akin to staging Hamlet without the Prince of Denmark. A man, who was destined by providence to being the Bowler’s Bradman, Hadlee was one of a kind. Such talent is never lost, or forgotten. It will inspire generations.
What made Hadlee such a great bowler? He’s tall and of lean frame. His bowling shoulder was packed with the intensity of a projectile, despite a few ‘hiccups’ in his physical attributes. He also had a complex armoury — a paceman’s delight. He could swing the ball both ways, using the shine and the seam on it, with a super-duper degree of control. His nip, movement, and change of pace transcended description. His run-up was smooth, delivery-stride perfection-personified; his propagation of motion and speed, evolution at its summit. He went through his overs quickly, without qualms, or flared emotions, whatever the umpire’s verdict. He appealed with conviction, hands lifted, his body a wee bit crouched, and eyes focused sharply at the man in white coat.
Hadlee kept batsmen guessing, all the time. Pace was not a tool with him; it was an embellishment. At home, in both Tests and one-dayers, Hadlee did not really relish the latter at the personal level. All the same, he was a unique phenomenon. Yes, one would be tempted to equate him with Andy Roberts, whose style and skills — including the lethal yorker — were somewhat similar, although the Kiwi was a far, far better bat than the West Indian pace merchant. As a batsman, Hadlee was certainly effective and free-stroking — a man who could hold his fort in a crisis.
Hadlee was in a league of his own, and comparable too with the likes of Imran Khan, Ian Botham, and Kapil Dev. What really distinguished him was his bowling record. While it took Botham, for instance, more than 90 Tests to take 373 wickets, Hadlee overhauled the Englishman’s preceding World Record in just 75 Tests, playing for a relatively weak Test side, at an average of approximately 22 per wicket — in contrast to the maverick English all-rounder’s 27.86.
Whatever the premise, Hadlee stands supreme in his genre — a player with the godly touch.
— First published in The Hindu
