Richard and Dayle Hadlee:

A memorable day with the brothers

[My friend Deepak Tembe’s recent Facebook post expressing concern for Sir Richard Hadlee’s health prompted me to share my own Hadlee moment here ahead of another story I had earlier scheduled].

Little did we know during his days of express but raw pace that Richard Hadlee would outperform elder brother Dayle—and almost every other fast bowler in the world in the 1980s. Though, of the four great all rounders of the era,  Pakistan’s Imran Khan had a superior record as an all rounder and played a major part in the successes of the team he led, and Kapil Dev probably gave greater aesthetic pleasure than Ian Botham, it was Hadlee’s masterly reinvention of his bowling and enhancement of his batting skills in midstream that made the cricket world sit up and take notice of his startling transformation from good to great. 

It was but natural that I, like other cricket followers, eagerly anticipated Richard Hadlee’s arrival in Chennai during the 2000-01 season as the manager of a young New Zealand Cricket Academy team invited to take part in the annual Buchi Babu memorial tournament, for, away from the razzle-dazzle of international cricket, he and coach Dayle Hadlee might find time to interact with the local cricket community in a relaxed atmosphere.

As it turned out, I did get to meet the brothers a few times. “Your wife has made me sound intelligent,” Richard Hadlee told me on one of these occasions, after she had interviewed him for The Hindu at the bidding of Sports Editor S Krishnan, an old cricketer friend of mine who must have imagined cricket was the favoured conversation piece at the Ramnarayan dining table. Gowri was at the time one of the paper’s music critics, and Krishnan sometimes sent her out on  ‘human interest’ assignments involving visiting cricketers.

Another time, the Hadlees and I visited Kalakshetra, a premier arts institution. , "Raam! Does the protocol allow a couple of my boys to take off their shirts?" Richard asked me soon after we had been treated to an exquisite  demonstration of bharata natyam by a couple of girls and a boy, all three students of Kalakshetra.

      This story is akin to the apocryphal (non) relationship between Abdul Khader and Amavasya. I had decided that a bunch of cricketing visitors from the antipodes needed to have their education enhanced by a visit to Kalakshetra among other places in Chennai. On a busman's holiday from my day job of sports editor at a city portal, I had taken a few days off to follow the trail of the New Zealand boys. The academy went on to win the championship, though I don't remember if they did it that season or the next. Many of the players in that side went on to play for New Zealand with the big boys in Test cricket, while some had already done so.

      As a regular at the NZCA's matches, I got to know the Hadlee brothers and some of the players well. During one of our conversations while watching a game, I asked Dayle Hadlee if he and his team had got round to seeing anything of the city. The answer was in the negative. The boys just went from their hotel rooms to the cricket ground, gym or swimming pool and back, when they were not attending boring parties, formal and prim and proper.

      Dayle readily accepted my offer to take the cricketers on a tour of Kalakshetra and Vidya Sagar, formerly Spastics Society of India. I almost regretted my impulsive offer when I considered the logistics and expense of carting 20 New Zealanders all but two of them energetic youngsters whose idea of a day off from cricket would have been slightly different from a visit to such strange places! I struck gold when TA Sekar of the MRF Pace Foundation immediately offered the use of the foundation's bus free of charge to ferry the cricketers that September morning.

      My next great piece of luck was the prompt response I received from Kalakshetra Principal S Rajaram. He not only enthusiastically agreed to my request, but also arranged a 20-minute dance recital in one of Kalakshetra's classrooms.

      The New Zealand boys were a cheerful lot in the bus, but to my nervous eyes they seemed supremely indifferent to the entertainment I had laid out for them. There were a few moans and groans as some of the youngsters expressed reservations about an alien classical dance, which was sure to be a far cry from the entertainment of their choice.

      The Kalakshetra atmosphere earned me my first brownie point with my visitors. They found it beautiful and remarkably peaceful and quiet in the heart of our urban chaos. The Spartan classrooms and the lovely young ladies only strengthened their positive feelings. The crowning glory was provided by the impressive performance by the young students. The cricketers were totally bowled over, particularly by the dancers' obviously high level of physical fitness.

      Then came the climax of the morning. My reply to Richard Hadlee's query about the cricketers' proposed striptease act was that a bare torso was absolutely mandatory for men in Indian classical dance. What followed was an authentic display of the Maori hakka, complete with high jumps and war cries. The threesome including the Marshall twins, James and Hamish, received a standing ovation from the small crowd.

      More groans and growls of protest prefixed our next stop, but the Hadlee brothers did not offer the cricketers the choice of opting out. The team trooped reluctantly into Vidya Sagar, at Kotturpuram. My friends there were thrilled to receive the cricketers as most of their wards were crazy about cricket. Unfortunately, the air-conditioner did not work, or the hall where we met the kids had none, and a very warm, sweaty session of interaction followed. The children, however, were unfazed by such minor inconveniences and put up quite a riveting show of entertainment. The crowning piece was a bright little speech by a seven-year-old. One-day cricket was very similar to life, he told us. Just as the batsman enjoyed great freedom in the first 15 overs, helped by the field restrictions, in life, too, children enjoyed freedom for the first 15 years, before the cares of life caught up with them, he said. The cricketers gave him a standing ovation and were visibly moved by the spirit and courage of the children. To a man, they came up to me and thanked me for giving them one of the most memorable days of their lives.