The 'Voice of Cricket' - An ode to Richie Benaud

It was the dawn of the last working day of the week — though, not for cricket journalists like me caught in the swirl of the Indian Premier League. The mobile buzzed before the eyes opened. A quick look at the unearthly hour whatsapp message and the enormity of the event hit like boxer’s punch on the face. Richie Benaud was dead, messaged a friend. 

One of the last vestiges of a pristine past was gone. A sane cricket voice was silenced by the icy hands of death.

And then to wake up early to find out Richie Benaud is no more, it is a grief that can be described as ‘a soundtrack that contributed in making me fall more for the game has been muted.’

To a generation that has been weaned on the cacophony of “Karbon Kamals” and “Yes Bank maximums” the soothing voice Benaud imparting cricketing wisdom in his inimitable way would not resonate. Benaud’s silence spoke as much as his words. He was fabulous all-rounder, a cerebral captain, but it was a commentator that he almost acquired divine status.

Like John Arlott on radio, Benaud’s commentary made more interesting than the game itself. That was the magic of his voice, his words — and the amalgam of the two. It was a heady cocktail.  Even when he voiced his disapproval, the tone and the tenor of his voice would not hurt the subject of his censure.

He was pristine, precise, unemotional and unbiased. His meaningful silences infused life into the sport.  Players often mute the commentary in the dressing room television, but they did not want to hear anything that would disturb their equanimity. 

But if there was one voice in the commentary box which players across the cricketing playing nations respected and wanted to hear, it was that of Benaud’s. He was the pontiff among the village priests when it came to delivering cricket sermons on Test Match Special, Channel Nine or whichever mike he wielded – and not necessarily as commentator.

Gideon Haigh wrote that Benaud was “perhaps the most influential cricketer and cricket personality since the Second World War.” Few would dispute that. His cricketing skills were unparallel. He knocked out batsmen round the legs at a time when the idea wasn’t heard of.

His leadership acumen is something which even the likes of Ian Chappell, Allan Border and Michael Clarke followed. Benaud  mentored some of the finest brains in cricket like Ian Chappell and Shane Warne and played a role in revolutionising the sport with Kerry Packer in the 1970s.

One of his last acts was the tribute to Phil Hughes last year, a video that melted the strongest of hearts and flooded the moistest of eyes.

I loved winters in my formative years. Apart from the drop in the mercury and the mellow sunshine, Benaud’s voice added to the romance of the moment. Waking up early morning with the blanket wrapped, mom felt I was dutifully studying as she desired. But that was an illusion. Nothing like the Tests in Australia and the suspense of the ‘study illusion’ had to be revealed as there was no fun watching television on mute.

It was like watching an Amitabh Bachchan with the volume fully scaled down! As far as I was concerned, I was deeply into learning — learning what I wanted to from one of the most revered masters in the game. Most evenings too were spent with Benaud while we wielded our gaming consoles with EA Sports cricket games.

The learnings were rich. He taught that metaphors worked better than adjectives. The importance of subtext and pauses. Those lessons sank in the subconscious. Benaud once said, “My mantra is: Put your brain into gear. And if you can add to what’s on the screen then do it; otherwise shut up.”

Shane Warne, his pupil, later said, “He [Benaud] was brilliant, just great to talk to. He taught the pregnant pause; don’t talk too much. Just describe what we’re seeing.”

Bill Lawry, his stable mate in many a commentary sessions, said: “Richie Benaud was a man of few words.”  Beanud weighed his words and made it count.

Benaud has not left a hole; his demise has created a crater. Cricket commentary won’t be the same again.  As he leaves for the Elysian Fields, the thought that comes to the mind is the commentary team up there:  John Arlott, Brian Johnston, Christopher Martin-Jenkins, Tony Greig…

(Suvajit Mustafi consumes cricket for lunch, fiction for dinner and munches numerous other snacks throughout the day. Yes, a jack of several trades, all Suvajit dreamt of was being India’s World Cup winning skipper but ended up being a sports writer, author, screenwriter, director, copywriter, graphic designer, sports marketer, strategist, entrepreneur,  philosopher and traveller. Donning so many hats, it’s cricket which gives him the ultimate high and where he finds solace. He can be followed at @RibsGully and rivu7)