I note with much pleasure that Viv Richards has been named by a very distinguished panel of 50 outstanding cricketers and writers about the game as the greatest ODI player of all time. He won their vote very easily over the other four very great players who were in top contention: Sachin Tendulkar, MS Dhoni, Adam Gilchrist and Wasim Akram.
There was something mesmeric about Viv Richards. Charisma set a glow about him. It was not only the play, the array of gleaming shots, the speed of foot, the deftness that tended to be forgotten amidst the thunder-strikes. It was the supreme confidence. It was the bowler, however good, despatched from the presence. It was the composure of kings.
Once in Antigua, when I was much younger, I was sitting near three older men when Viv Richards came out to bat. It was lovely seeing them, listening to them, as they watched him, talked about him, worshipped him. Soon after I wrote a poem based on the experience.
Massa Day Done
Viv in a mood today, you only have to watch,
see the jaw grinding, he stabbing the pitch, back-lift big.
Look how he stare down the wicket, spear in he eye,
he going to start sudden, violent, a thunder shock.
Man, this could be an innings! This could make life good.
You see how he coming in, how he shoulder relax,
how he spin the bat, how he look up at the sun,
how he seem to breathe deep, how he swing the bat, swing,
how he look around like a lord, how he chest expan’.
You ever see the man wear helmet? Tell me?
They say he too proud an’ foolish.
Nah! He know he worth, boy;
the bowler should wear helmet, not he.
Remember long this day, holy to be here,
See him stalk the high altar o’ the mornin’ air.
You ever see such mastery in this world?
You ever see a man who dominate so?
This man don’t know forbearance,
he don’t know surrender or forgive,
he lash the ball like something anger him.
Look how the man torment today!
He holding the bat, it could be a axe.
Look how he grinding he jaw again, boy,
how he head hold cock an’ high
and he smile, he gleam, like jaguar.
Don’t bring no flighty finery here; it gone!
Bring the mightiest man, Viv husk he.
He always so, he stay best fo’ the best.
I tell you, he smile like he hungry;
you ever see this man caress?
That mood hold he, it bite he!
He pound the ball, look at that, aha!
Like he vex, he slash, he pull, he hook,
he blast a way through the cover, man,
he hoist the ball like cannon ball
gone far and wild, scattering the enemy,
and foe turn tremble, danger all about.
It’s butchery today; bat spill blood
and he cut like he cutting hog on a block;
nobody could stop he in that mood.
Almighty love be there! Almighty love, boy.
We know from the start, he one o’ we.
Something hurt he bad, you could see,
as if he heself alone could end we slavery!
