richie richardson

Out of the shadow of Viv emerged Richie. Richards followed by Richardson was somehow genealogically appropriate. There was a contrast, though. Richards was volatile and explosive in word and deed. His successor as West Indies captain was genteel and gentle, unfailingly courteous, and modest. He stood for sportsmanship in an age where such values were beginning to disappear, and deserved better than the shabby underhand powerbrokering that eventually saw him dethroned. Like Richards, he also declined to wear a helmet, and his wide-brimmed maroon sunhat became a trademark. He was a destructively brilliant batsman, particularly on hard pitches where he could throw the bat through the line with abandon, carving the ball square. He hooked willingly too, usually up, frequently for six. Criticism was usually directed at his lack of concentration, but he was capable of that: his 69 grafted out over four hours on a vile pitch at Edgbaston in 1995 was a masterly exhibition of bad-wicket play. He reserved his finest innings for the Australians: only Sachin Tendulkar and Jack Hobbs have bettered his nine centuries against them. The finest was at Georgetown in March 1991, when he blasted 182, including 106 in the final session of the first day.
Mike Selvey