Yesterday was the birthday of my favourite batsman: Vivian Richards. ‘Swag’, a term so commonplace today, rests best perhaps with this man. His batting inspired writers to freely use adjectives such as fearless, pugnacious, destructive, brutal and classic, all at the same time.
But what resides in my memory the most, is his walk to the crease.
The intimidation began as he appeared on the ground from the dressing room. Donning a maroon cap and flexing his rippling muscles, Viv had an unhurried approach to the crease. His powerful eyes would take a fisheye view of the fielders. The windmill action of his hands as he walked on the greens was accentuated with his Rastafarian wrist-band, which gave him an air of imperiousness. All this while, one could see him chew on his gum, an otherwise ordinary act, that looked majestic only when he performed it. There was so much menace as he reached the crease and finally asked for guard. Finally, he would walk down the wicket, knock a few places on the pitch with his bat, walk back, and before taking stance he would look into the bowler’s eyes for a few seconds. A lot would be said there without uttering a single word.
Rest assured, the duel was won even before the first ball was bowled. Every single time.
The King was ready for the plunder.
