Rodevra Republic

Here is a rare video of Sir Garfield Sobers hitting six sixes in an over.

What strikes one immediately is his composure. There are no exaggerated celebrations, no theatrics — just a quiet acknowledgment of what has been achieved. At one point, there is even a casual exchange with the wicketkeeper, as if this were just another passage of play.

One cannot help but spare a thought for Malcolm Nash, the bowler. He had shifted from medium pace to spin, inspired by the success of Derek Underwood at the time. After this over, it is said he never bowled spin again.

Another interesting aspect is the commentary. It carries that unmistakable old-world British tone — phrases like “goodness gracious me” and “my goodness gracious” come through naturally. There is no excess, no attempt at embellishment. The commentator simply describes what is unfolding, leaving the viewer to absorb and interpret. That, perhaps, is what good commentary does.

The match was played at Swansea, in Wales, and the Welsh lilt in the voice is hard to miss. There is a certain musical quality to it — vowels stretched gently, rising and falling in a way that almost makes it sound sing-song. The way words like “sixty-four” or “bowl” are pronounced adds to the charm.

Thinking of commentary brings to mind Richie Benaud, whose broadcasting career spanned decades. His delivery was measured, his words chosen with care. His well-known expression, “marvellous,” captured many a great moment. He often followed a simple principle: if you cannot add anything to what is happening on the field, it is better to remain silent. His humour, too, was understated. When Glenn McGrath was dismissed for two, Benaud remarked that he had fallen just 98 runs short of a century.

Geoffrey Boycott, in contrast, was more forthright — often opinionated, and at times deliberately provocative. His remarks could be sharp, even blunt, delivered in his unmistakable Yorkshire accent. He was known for lines such as “my mother could have fielded better” or “anybody’s sister could have taken that catch.” It was part of his style — one that invited reaction as much as it offered analysis.

Tony Cozier deserves a special mention. Though he did not play international cricket, his background in journalism gave his commentary a distinct literary quality. He had the rare ability to evoke not just the game, but the setting — the Caribbean light, the warmth, the easy rhythm of the islands seemed to find their way into his words. Listening to him, one could almost feel the atmosphere beyond the boundary.

Talking of a literary touch, K. N. Prabhu’s columns in The Times of India had a similar quality. They were a pleasure to read, bringing grace and clarity to cricket writing.

Closer home, we have had our own stalwarts — Harsha Bhogle, Ravi Shastri, Sunil Gavaskar, and earlier, Vijay Manjrekar — each bringing a different flavour to the craft.

Going further back, the era of radio commentary had its own charm. Names like Vijay Merchant, Anandji Dossa, Suresh Saraiya, Raju Bharatan come to mind. With the advent of television, voices such as Fredun De Vitre, Dicky Rutnagur, A.F.S. Talyarkhan, Anand Setalvad, Pearson Surita, Narottam Puri, Berry Sarbadhikari, Sushil Doshi, and Ravi Chaturvedi in Hindi became familiar to listeners.

And finally, one cannot forget Lala Amarnath — always ready with his “expert” comments.