A giant in more ways than one

At Polly Umrigar’s funeral yesterday afternoon, commentator Harsha Bhogle pointed out that as many as four Parsis had played for India in the 1962 series against the West Indies. His observation is not as bland as it may appear in cold print.

The Parsis, it might be remembered, were among the earliest followers of the gospel of cricket in India. In many ways, they were the pioneers and the providers, but by 1962 their influence was clearly waning. That said, four Parsis in the same touring party — even if India were to lose all five Tests (and Nari Contractor, his life almost) — must have been a riot.

Rusi Surti and Farokh Engineer have a ribald sense of humour and a penchant for pranks. Contractor is mostly forthright, but sometimes delightfully eccentric. Umrigar, in that sense, was plainer. He had heft and a gruff voice, but almost everything else about him was defined by reasonableness.

As a cricketer, of course, he stood head and shoulders above the other three: perhaps of most who have played for India. He was a sound batsman who could be devastating if he wanted, he was a clever medium-pacer who could bowl off-cutters penetratingly, and a superb slip fielder, the big hands like buckets.

When he retired, he took fresh guard, as it were. At various times, he was selector, administrator, coach, pitch curator, mentor. It was impossible to detach him from the game, such was his passion and commitment. Above all, he was a fine human being.

Tiger Pataudi, who was catapulted into the captaincy when Nari Contractor was felled by Charlie Griffith on the 1962 West Indies tour, readily acknowledges that he got most help from Umrigar, who many reckoned should have been captain. Ravi Shastri tells me that just before departing to New Zealand in 1980-81 for his maiden tour, he got a call from Umrigar. “He gave me his India sweater since I had not received an official one. We were of the same built, so it helped.” Shastri got six wickets in his first Test. The sweater may have helped, but surely more important was the thought, the concern.

Polly Kaka was a giant, in more ways than one.

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Finally, Ricky Ponting’s crude finger-wagging (and the not-so-gentle-nudge) need not be such a surprise for Sharad Pawar. Australia’s cricketers have a legacy of being flippant/rude/casual in situations that demand some decorum.

Even the redoubtable Sir Donald Bradman was not exempt from this, as the photograph alongside shows. Bradman had an audience with King George VI at Balmoral on his last tour of England in 1948, and he drew a lot of flak for walking with his hands in his pockets, showing no deference.