Anshuman Gaekwad: The epitome of bravery who buzzed off Viv Richards and dared Holding with a bloodied finger
Anshuman Gaekwad’s unwillingness to take a backward step was never more apparent than in the ‘Bloodbath at Kingston’ in 1976.
How would you feel if you were 22, making your Test debut and walking in to face a marauding Andy Roberts, Bernard Julien and Vanburn Holder. Without a helmet. And with your captain having just left the field after shedding blood upon being struck in the face by Roberts?
Unfortunately, Anshuman Gaekwad isn’t around anymore to tell that tale. One of the bravest cricketers to have played the game fought and fought until he had nothing more to give, losing his spirited battle against the big C on Wednesday, leaving India and world cricket poorer for its loss.
It was the first day of 1975 and India were staring down the barrel at 94 for four on day one of the third Test against West Indies when Gaekwad walked out to join Gundappa Vishwanath after Tiger Pataudi had been felled by Roberts. “It would have been understandable for the 22-year-old to be tense, nervous, indeed a little fearful,” the great ‘Vishy’ told this writer many summers back. “But if Aunshu felt any of these emotions, they were nowhere in evidence.”
Vishwanath and Gaekwad put on 75, Gaekwad’s battling 36 ended, ironically, by part-time left-arm wrist-spinner Roy Fredericks. It was the first indication that the stodgy right-hander hailing from royalty didn’t mind getting his hands dirty like a commoner if that’s what it took to keep occupying the batting crease.
Gaekwad’s batting was never a thing of beauty, but that was almost incidental. Think Gaekwad, and the adjectives that immediately spring to mind are tenacious, resilient, persistent, courageous. The word ‘character’ is often bandied about all too loosely; no one showed greater character or heart with the bat than the generous Gaekwad. Generous to everyone but the bowlers, that is.
There was more to ‘Aunshu’ than just a gritty, pugnacious batter who rode blows with nonchalance to average 30.07 in 40 Test matches. In itself, the average might not appear substantial, but given the circumstances in which he chiselled out each of his 1,985 Test runs, they are worth plenty more than their numerical value. Within four games of his debut, he was thrust up the batting order to partner legendary opener Sunil Gavaskar, a position he occupied for most of the rest of his 36 Tests.
Bloodbath at Kingston
Gaekwad’s unwillingness to take a backward step was never more apparent than in the ‘Bloodbath at Kingston’ in 1976. Smarting from having seen India mount a world record chase of 406 for four in the previous Test in Port of Spain, Clive Lloyd unleashed a four-pronged pace battery for the first time. Allowed to do their bidding by umpires Douglas Sang Hee and Ralph Gosein, who were mute spectators, Michael Holding, Wayne Daniel, Julien and Holder served up not just multiple bouncers an over, but also more than the odd beamer. Gaekwad was unfazed as the ball buzzed around his ears, batting for six and a half hours in making 81 when he was finally forced to retire hurt, hit on his left ear by Holding. The blow left him with a pierced eardrum that necessitated surgery.
“It was the last over before lunch and Mikey was bowling round the wicket,” Gaekwad had told me in May 2021. “I was struck on the finger, fending a lifter. Big deal, I said, and settled into my stance, when blood started trickling from my glove. Deryck Murray (the wicketkeeper) and Viv (Richards) came running to enquire after me, and let’s just say I told them, ‘GET LOST!’ I looked over at Mikey, at the top of his run-up. I made a mistake, I showed him the finger, which I shouldn’t have. The next ball, maybe it was pain or lapse of concentration, I didn’t see the ball that hit me on the ear. My specs went flying and the brain was ringing bells. But I didn’t want to be carried off the field, I walked off with my hands around (P) Krishnamurthy and Eknath (Solkar).”
The epitome of bravery with bat in hand, Gaekwad was suave and sophisticated, articulate and eloquent without it. He was India’s ‘cricket manager’, as the coach was then called, for two stints, became a national selector and was an exceptional administrator as well as media analyst, charming all-comers with his wit and panache, his humour self-deprecating even though he had so much to be proud of.
Gaekwad was also unanimously elected the president of the Indian Cricketers Association in another acknowledgement of how much the fraternity respected his immense contributions to Indian cricket. In his demise, the sport has lost a fighter, but also an artist in his own way. RIP, Aunshu, and thank you for the wonderful memories!