Sir Garfield St Auburn Sobers. What a name — and, description. A gallant knight and the game’s ultimate all-rounder.
Sobers, who made his Test debut, against England, at Kingston, 72 years ago [1953-54], was a total cricketing phenomenon. A three-, or four-in-one, marvel. He’s a Brian Lara with the bat, an Alan Davidson and Vinoo Mankad, with the ball, a Jonty Rhodes, in the field, and a thinking cricketer like Mike Brearley, albeit the Caribbean gem was all too natural and instinctive. More than that, Sobers played the sport with a rare degree of devotion, application, warmth, and camaraderie, not to speak of a fervid sense of devout commitment to candour, fair play, and sporting spirit.
Sobers, who walked into the sunset, recently, at age 89, was a cricketer beyond compare — the only ‘Perfect Player’ the game has ever produced — if ever there was one, what with his near-impossible qualities. Yet, he was human. He was only too aware of that reality — something that makes our race fallible. Else, Sobers would not have made as courageous a decision when he sportingly declared — in a Test match at Trinidad — 58 years ago [1967-1968].
Sobers indisputably set England a high run rate, or target, having thought more in terms of runs per hour, rather than the all-important criterion of runs per over, all right. England, quite adept, at chasing runs, at that point of time, romped home to a grand victory. Even an assured Sobers was flagrantly stunned. He couldn’t just believe it — especially, in the wake of England’s dishonourable collapse, at Sabina Park, earlier.
A gambler by inclination, Sobers was aware that a declaration was his only chance of winning the match. Agreed — that his move did not pay off, although it had injected a good amount of glucose into what would, otherwise, have been a dull, soporific draw. His cavalier stance was gallant, stimulating, and tactically sound, yes. But, the cricket-crazy West Indian public may not have liked one bit of the conclusive result.
Yet, if one takes into account the spirit of Sobers’ conviction, the game was blessed. It came a winner. However, one question remains. Did Sobers commit that universal foible of having under-rated his opposition? Perhaps — like Clive Lloyd’s ‘Test Encore’ against India, a few years later, which India won, on the basis of having posted the then highest-ever record score [404] in the fourth innings of a Test match, thanks to the combined, brilliant efforts of Anshuman Gaekwad, Sunil Gavaskar, Gundappa Viswanath, Mohinder Amarnath, and Brijesh Patel.
Sobers was Sobers — the most dangerous batsman, bowler, and fielder. He had more than two strokes for each delivery. In ‘Voice of Cricket’ John Arlott’s words, “He [Sobers] was, it seems, born with basic orthodoxy in batting. Once he was established, his sharp eye, early assessment, and inborn gift of timing enabled him to play almost any stroke. Neither a front- nor back-foot player, he was either as the ball and the conditions demanded. When he stepped out and drove, it was with the full flow of the bat in the classical manner, to a complete follow-through. When he could not get to the pitch of the ball, he would go back and wait — as it seemed impossibly long, sometimes — until he identified it and then, at the slightest opportunity, with an explosive whip of the wrists, hit it with immense power. He was a brilliant improviser of strokes.”
Sobers was everything rolled into one, in just one individual — a sight for the gods to behold. His stunning record of 8,032 Test runs, in 93 Tests [HS: 365 not out], average: 57.78; 235 wickets, and 109 catches, speaks a dialect of its own. This wasn’t all. He could bat at any place in the order, on any wicket, under the most testing of conditions.
As a bowler, he could deliver any variety you’d ask for — pace, slow-medium, and spin — of the highest class. As a fielder, with feline reflexes, he could field, with effortless ease and brilliance, in any slot, close-in, or deep. Reads like a fairy tale. Yet, despite his near-impossible qualities, Sobers, like all human beings, was not flawless. He was human, albeit a genius. Besides, he, to put it mildly, led an ‘indulgent’ life, without crossing the ‘limits.’ Well, he got away with it all, because he’s Sobers — the peerless virtuoso like no other.
In his own words, “I’ve always been a free spirit and, maybe, not always the conventional professional cricketer. I like to gamble. I certainly enjoy a drink and I never objected to a late night out, and the company of a pretty lady. I was lucky. I was never one who needed eight hours of sleep — four, or five hours, and I would wake up totally refreshed. If I went to bed too early, I couldn’t sleep, and if I had energy to burn, I would burn it… My philosophy was simple. As long as my social life did not interfere with, or damage, my cricket, I was doing nothing wrong, and, in many ways, this spurred me on to even greater efforts…”
Sobers was, indeed, lucky — even plucky. This was his second name, or nature, which he carried effortlessly.
Sobers was truly a potential ‘hazard’ with the ball in hand. He had the ability to ‘zoom’ the red cherry from over the wicket, especially against right-handers. His pace was decidedly quick and deceptively sharp. His action was perfect. His bowling was also delusive, thanks to his easy approach to the wicket. With so little effort, Sobers had the knack of packing his quicker deliveries with the power of rocket-launchers to ‘pounding’ his opponents.
Sobers’ left-arm orthodox spin was accurate. He was economical, but more often effective. A finger spinner, Sobers’ ‘chinaman’ was no less fundamentally penetrative. His slip fielding was splendid. He would often make difficult catches look completely simple. He was a ‘wily’ cat, sure and safe, at short leg too. He served cricket in almost every capacity.
To decipher his greatness, what with its stupendous rigmarole of statistics, is next to impossible. It would only make us warble songs in his glory and honour. Yet, the lyrics would not be equal to the task. Sobers was, of course, a competitive chap on the field. He was a hard and relentless cricketer, yet gentle. Brought up in a neighbourhood where money was scarce and opportunities limited, Sobers, thanks to his cricketing genius, was able to conquer difficulties, not just by way of concerted application, but also hard work and steadfast determination. Behind the veneer of greatness, Sobers was scabbard grandeur. When his psyche was uncoiled, he exuded a steely purposefulness to win. And, this he did often — in his 20 years at the top.
In the legendary Sir Don Bradman’s words, “With his long grip of the bat, his high back-lift and free swing, I think, by and large, [Garry] Sobers consistently hits the ball harder than anyone I can remember. This helps to make him such an exciting player to watch, because the emphasis is on power and aggression rather than technique — the latter being the servant, not the master. The uncoiling of those steely wrists, as he flicks the ball wide of mid-on, is a real joy to watch because it is unique and superbly controlled, whilst the full-blooded square-cut is tremendous.” As an extraordinary batsman of his age, and beyond, Sobers scaled greater heights than Frank Woolley. If one compares him with some of the best, and great, left-handers, only a few would hold a candle to him — the most notable among them being Graeme Pollock.
When this writer asked Farokh Engineer, India’s renowned wicket-keeper and scintillating batsman, his view on Sobers, this is what he said, “The Most Complete Cricketer that I have ever played with, or against. His pace/swinging bowling; his ‘chinaman’ and orthodox spin bowling; his close-in fielding, especially at short leg; and, of course, his batting — on his day, he was as good as the very best around; perhaps, better. The man, who I can proudly call a dear, dear friend, was a genius. He’s one of a kind not every generation produces. He will always stay in our hearts. RIP, Sir Garry.”
As Jack Fingleton, the noted Australian cricketer, commentator and journalist, articulated, “There is an abiding memory of the centuries I have seen Sobers hit. In retrospect, there never seemed a period in them when he didn’t look like hitting a century. Some centurions struggle, go slow, or fast in patches, have their lucky streaks, possibly bog down in their 90s and emerge, at last, gasping at the three-figure mark. There was nothing like this about Sobers. He just flowed on and on, his stroke-play and technique on a pedestal… Sobers’ best shots were the two spectacular and most productive — the drive, and the pull. He possessed an intuitive genius that enabled him to cleave the fieldsmen; there was no stroke he could not play.”
Yes, Sobers — an avid golfer — like Oscar Wilde had nothing to declare except his genius, because he was the greatest cricketer of his type ever. There’s no one like him before — and, there won’t be another like again.
— First published in India First
