Sonny Ramadhin is no more.
Ramadhin had a remarkable career, with enough oddities to make him a quizzers’ delight. To begin with, he was the first West Indian Test cricketer of Indian origin.
For a long time, did not have a first name. He did not need one in the West Indies. They used to call him ‘boy’ or ‘sonny’ when he was young. In England, where they wanted a first name, he officially became Sonny.
He still holds the world record for bowling most balls (98 six-ball overs) in a Test innings.
Cecil Gray wrote a full-length poem on him. Lord Kitchener composed the song, Ramadhin, you deserve a title, Sir Ramadhin. Another calypso, from King Radio, ran We want Ramadhin on the ball.
There is a road named after him in Balmain, Couva in Trinidad & Tobago. In 1998, he featured on a 75c Trinidad & Tobago postage stamp.
But everything paled in front of his feats on the 1950 tour of England.
A frail, 5’4” man, Ramadhin bowled with his sleeves buttoned, often in a cap. He combined wrist motion, hidden by the sleeves, with by a flick of the fingers. He was also accurate despite variations of flight and pace.
And in 1950, the English could never figure out which way a Ramadhin ball would turn. They would often play for the turn that was not there, for they could not read him.
Interestingly, Ramadhin arrived in England after having played just two First-class matches, that too on matting wickets in Jamaica. After having reasonable success in the tour matches, he debuted in the first Test match, at Old Trafford. He took 2-90 and 2-77 as England won.
Then began the Ramadhin juggernaut: 5-66 and 6-86 at Lord’s, 2-49 and 5-135 at Trent Bridge, and 1-63 and 3-38 at The Oval. In all, Ramadhin took 26 wickets at 23.23. With 33 wickets at 20.42 apiece, his spin-bowling partner Alf Valentine did even better. However, on the entire tour, ‘Ram’ (135 wickets at 14.88) outdid ‘Val’ (123 at 17.94).
West Indies won the last three Test matches by colossal margin to claim the series 3-1.
It is to the Lord’s Test to which we shall divert our attention. John Arlott called it ‘the first truly bipartisan Test match.’ It was after this Test match that Lord Kitchener composed a four-line calypso that inspired Lord Beginner’s more iconic Cricket, lovely cricket, where every stanza ended in ‘With those two little pals of mine, Ramadhin and Valentine.’
But the importance of the win transcended the cricketing arena.
Since the Second World War, people had been arriving in England from the Caribbean. It increased since the British Nationality Act of 1948. Many of them were in the stands at Lord’s throughout the Test match.
The Second World War had caused Great Britain several dominions. The countries in the Caribbean, too, were pushing for Independence, but that would not happen until the 1960s.
Away from home, in a country dominated by a different race, the immigrants needed an identity.
It was not easy. While they all hailed from the same part of the world, they represented different countries whose politics, history, and culture, while similar, were not the same.
Cricket was what united them.
West Indies scored 326, largely due to Allan Rae’s 106. For England, Len Hutton and Cyril Washbrook then added 62 for the opening stand. But once they fell, the others found it near-impossible to score. Between them, Ramadhin and Valentine bowled 88 overs to take 9-114. England batted for 106.4 overs, but only managed 151.
Clyde Walcott then slammed 168 not out as John Goddard declared on the fourth morning. England needed 601. Washbrook got a hundred, but by stumps England were 218/4.
Then came Day 5. The West Indians had come prepared. There was ‘a loud commentary on every ball’. Drums and rattles and guitars, and even dustbin lids and carving knives and cheese graters, all contributed to the celebrations. It must have scandalised the MCC members, too contained in archaic definitions of what was prim and proper.
On the field, West Indies were almost there, but they needed wickets, particularly of Washbrook.
Ramadhin had taken two wickets the previous day. Early on Day 5, he yorked Washbrook. Then he ran through England. From 228/4, England slumped to 258/9. Ramadhin took four of these five wickets.
The celebrations grew louder at the ground whose authorities have always taken pride in calling it the Home of Cricket.
Finally, Frank Worrell got Johnny Wardle to seal a 326-run win. And the Caribbean fans stormed the ground, equipped with musical instrument of every kind.
The shy Ramadhin stuck to ginger beer that night, but champagne flowed for his teammates. Hundreds of West Indian fans celebrated all night. They decorated the Kingsley Hotel, where the triumphant cricketers had been put up, with flags of what looked like every Caribbean nation.
As the news reached back home across the Atlantic, thousands more celebrated across the islands.
It was a win like none other, for not long before 1950, the West Indian islands were ruled by Europeans, who often enslaved the black population. The islands were still almost mandatorily led by a white man.
Now they had managed to beat England at their headquarters at their own sport.
At the centre of all of it was that frail, unassuming Trinidadian, the grandson of an Indian.