BENAUD IN WISDEN
Edited by Rob Smyth
Bloomsbury
198 pages; Rs 599
The 20th-century saw the emergence of cricket giants who transformed the sport in unfathomable ways. W G Grace developed the Test school of batting, Donald Bradman and Len Hutton put that into practice with wondrous effect. Vivian Richards, in his own intrepid way several decades later, transformed it again. Despite their astounding achievements, their legacy, however, remained limited to the cricket field. Richie Benaud was an exception, becoming the most recognisable face in the world of cricket even several years after calling time on a distinguished cricket career.
As a cricketer, Benaud had few peers; as a commentator, he undoubtedly had none. But, much before Benaud became the wit-laden, mild-mannered commentator, it was on the field that he recast the sport in ways so extraordinary that the indefatigable, belligerent brand of cricket he spawned several decades ago is more relevant today than ever before.
It was Benaud who lifted cricket out of the doldrums in the early 1960s. The aftermath of the Second World War gave rise to a brand of dreary cricket that seldom filled up stadiums. Sluggish performances coupled with an obstinate avoid-defeat-at-all-costs approach meant that the sport was rapidly plunging into oblivion.
In one of the earlier chapters in the book - "The Greatest Test Match" - the British writer E M Wellings fondly recalls how Benaud's Australia and the West Indies, led by the great Frank Worrell, dramatically pulled Test cricket out of the tedium that spectators had become so accustomed to by playing out the first tied Test match in Brisbane in 1960. That balmy Brisbane afternoon gave birth to one of the greatest eras in Test match cricket, and it was Benaud's unyielding attacking mindset that had led to the resuscitation.
In another chapter, the Australian cricket writer Gideon Haigh describes Benaud as the "The Wise Old King", whose numbers, like most impactful sportsmen, rarely paint the whole picture. Yet, his statistics remain impressive. His numbers with the ball were middling when compared to other great leg-spinners like Clarrie Grimmett and Shane Warne, but Benaud, with his precocious batting ability and ingenious captaincy, in so many ways, was a once-in-a-lifetime cricketer. Australia, in fact, did not lose a single Test series under Benaud's leadership.
With engaging and elegant prose, the book successfully culls out the true image of Benaud, that of a thoughtful cricketing brain who went on to become the sport's most ubiquitous post-war personality. Tributes such as these are often superfluous and grossly exaggerated, but this book tersely captures Benaud's enormous cricketing pedigree.
The book also recounts how Benaud was always two moves ahead of the rest - and not just with the ball in hand. After the 1956 Ashes tour, Benaud cancelled his holiday and stayed back to take a three-week training course at the BBC. Even at 25, when he was at the absolute peak of his powers, Benaud was planning his retirement.
In a 1986 Wisden Cricket Monthly essay, the cricket journalist E J Brack recalls how Benaud, at the time, was the best television commentator the world had ever seen. If John Arlott was the voice of cricket, Benaud was its unquestionable face. As the British writer Tim de Lisle explains in another passage, people's embracing of Benaud's crisp and unobtrusive style was proof that "less is more".
The most interesting part of the book is the one that delves deep into how Benaud viewed commentary. Cricket journalist Rob Smyth writes on how Benaud felt that silence was his greatest weapon, and how viewers, rather remarkably, listened to him even more intently when he said absolutely nothing. In the age of disturbing hyperbole, the presence of Benaud in the commentary box was a welcome aberration.
The book gives ample space to Benaud's love for writing. Benaud, in addition to his myriad talents, was also a gifted writer. He affectionately describes how Bradman was the greatest batsman he ever saw, how Warne overcame injury and became the finest exponent of spin and how his good friend Keith Miller, much like him, left an indelible mark on the game. For somebody who probably witnessed more cricket matches than anyone else, Benaud's accounts make for compelling reading.
With delightful and extensively-researched writing, Benaud in Wisden is a touching tribute to cricket's best friend; a man who dedicated his whole life to the sport, changing both the way it is played and watched in the best possible way.
Edited by Rob Smyth
Bloomsbury
198 pages; Rs 599
The 20th-century saw the emergence of cricket giants who transformed the sport in unfathomable ways. W G Grace developed the Test school of batting, Donald Bradman and Len Hutton put that into practice with wondrous effect. Vivian Richards, in his own intrepid way several decades later, transformed it again. Despite their astounding achievements, their legacy, however, remained limited to the cricket field. Richie Benaud was an exception, becoming the most recognisable face in the world of cricket even several years after calling time on a distinguished cricket career.
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Benaud in Wisden chronicles the former Australian captain's rise from a bashful schoolboy in Sydney to one of the game's most influential figures, first as a pugnacious young all-rounder and then as the white-haired maverick behind the microphone. The book includes essays from a variety of Wisden publications, as well as extracts from the Almanack and reports of Benaud's 63 Test matches. There are also articles written by Benaud himself, including appreciations of Bradman, Shane Warne, Dennis Lillee and the Chappell brothers.
As a cricketer, Benaud had few peers; as a commentator, he undoubtedly had none. But, much before Benaud became the wit-laden, mild-mannered commentator, it was on the field that he recast the sport in ways so extraordinary that the indefatigable, belligerent brand of cricket he spawned several decades ago is more relevant today than ever before.
It was Benaud who lifted cricket out of the doldrums in the early 1960s. The aftermath of the Second World War gave rise to a brand of dreary cricket that seldom filled up stadiums. Sluggish performances coupled with an obstinate avoid-defeat-at-all-costs approach meant that the sport was rapidly plunging into oblivion.
In one of the earlier chapters in the book - "The Greatest Test Match" - the British writer E M Wellings fondly recalls how Benaud's Australia and the West Indies, led by the great Frank Worrell, dramatically pulled Test cricket out of the tedium that spectators had become so accustomed to by playing out the first tied Test match in Brisbane in 1960. That balmy Brisbane afternoon gave birth to one of the greatest eras in Test match cricket, and it was Benaud's unyielding attacking mindset that had led to the resuscitation.
In another chapter, the Australian cricket writer Gideon Haigh describes Benaud as the "The Wise Old King", whose numbers, like most impactful sportsmen, rarely paint the whole picture. Yet, his statistics remain impressive. His numbers with the ball were middling when compared to other great leg-spinners like Clarrie Grimmett and Shane Warne, but Benaud, with his precocious batting ability and ingenious captaincy, in so many ways, was a once-in-a-lifetime cricketer. Australia, in fact, did not lose a single Test series under Benaud's leadership.
With engaging and elegant prose, the book successfully culls out the true image of Benaud, that of a thoughtful cricketing brain who went on to become the sport's most ubiquitous post-war personality. Tributes such as these are often superfluous and grossly exaggerated, but this book tersely captures Benaud's enormous cricketing pedigree.
The book also recounts how Benaud was always two moves ahead of the rest - and not just with the ball in hand. After the 1956 Ashes tour, Benaud cancelled his holiday and stayed back to take a three-week training course at the BBC. Even at 25, when he was at the absolute peak of his powers, Benaud was planning his retirement.
In a 1986 Wisden Cricket Monthly essay, the cricket journalist E J Brack recalls how Benaud, at the time, was the best television commentator the world had ever seen. If John Arlott was the voice of cricket, Benaud was its unquestionable face. As the British writer Tim de Lisle explains in another passage, people's embracing of Benaud's crisp and unobtrusive style was proof that "less is more".
The most interesting part of the book is the one that delves deep into how Benaud viewed commentary. Cricket journalist Rob Smyth writes on how Benaud felt that silence was his greatest weapon, and how viewers, rather remarkably, listened to him even more intently when he said absolutely nothing. In the age of disturbing hyperbole, the presence of Benaud in the commentary box was a welcome aberration.
The book gives ample space to Benaud's love for writing. Benaud, in addition to his myriad talents, was also a gifted writer. He affectionately describes how Bradman was the greatest batsman he ever saw, how Warne overcame injury and became the finest exponent of spin and how his good friend Keith Miller, much like him, left an indelible mark on the game. For somebody who probably witnessed more cricket matches than anyone else, Benaud's accounts make for compelling reading.
With delightful and extensively-researched writing, Benaud in Wisden is a touching tribute to cricket's best friend; a man who dedicated his whole life to the sport, changing both the way it is played and watched in the best possible way.