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From A Peculiar Start, To The Arena Of Champions

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From A Peculiar Start, To The Arena Of Champions
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Much as I revere Test cricket, I have to confess that the World Cupdoes something to me. It has the high-power competition plus the defin-itive title ofWorld Champions, which the random nature of Test cricket precludes. I am one of probablyonly a dozen or so people who have seen all the Cup finals to date. Who will hold theWills World Cup on the evening of March 17, 1996, in Lahore is anyone’s guess, but Ibet his grin will be as wide as those seen on the five previous occasions.

When the first Cup was arranged by the International Cricket Conference(ICC) in England in ’75, not all were confident it would capture public imagination.But it did. Anxiety was allayed when a sponsor, Prudential Assurance, was signed (for£100,000), and the 15 matches were well-supported, with gate-takings alone amounting toover £200,000. Thoughts immediately turned to a repeat show. India wanted to stage it,but England, with its long summer evenings and compact distribution of grounds, won enoughsupport to stage the next two Cups before it moved out.

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The inaugural Cup got off to a peculiar start. England played India atLord’s, piled up a formidable 334 for 4, and watched bemused as Sunil Gavaskar battedthrough India’s 60 overs for 36 not out. Mike Denness and his bowlers couldn’tcomprehend what went on. Gavaskar, of course, was making a point of principle. The targetwas out of reach, so he was darned if he was going to get out. One of the more thrillingpreliminary matches came at Edgbaston when West Indies’ last pair, Deryck Murray andAndy Roberts, snatched 64 runs to beat Pakistan. Jeff Thomson got a bit brutal against SriLanka at The Oval, and these two sides—West Indies and Australia—were to emergeas finalists, Gary Gilmour, the Australian left-arm swing bowler, destroying England inthe semi-final with 6 for 14.

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The final was a humdinger. Play began at 11 am and went on until twilight, the finalAustralian wicket falling at 8.43 pm when Thomson left his crease and Murray’s throwbroke the wicket. West Indies had won by 17 runs, having been propelled into a strongposition by a century from captain Clive Lloyd and 55 from Rohan Kanhai. Keith Boyce thentook 4 for 50, but what really destroyed Australia was the fielding, mainly by young VivRichards. There were five run-outs.

The host nation might have pocketed the Cup in ’79, but in thefinal, West Indies,fired this time by Richards’ century and Collis King’s sparkling 86, had thearch exponent of denial in their ranks, Joel Garner, who speared yorker after yorker inanother evening of fading light. Geoff Boycott and Mike Brearley had built a largelaunchpad with 129 for the first wicket, but it took them far too long. Too much was askedof those who followed. India again had a bad tournament, losing all threematches—one, almost inconceivably, against Sri Lanka at Old Trafford. Recalling thisfour years later, your correspondent wrote the immortal words that if India did not showsome fight in the ’83 Cup, then they might as well declare themselves unavailable forfuture tournaments!

What a day it was on June 25, ’83. West Indies, strongly favouredfor a hat-trick, faced an Indian team led by Kapil Dev, whose sensational 175 not outagainst Zimbabwe amid the splendour of Turnbridge Wells had staved off extinction. Theyhad beaten England in a semi-final, the medium-pacers all doing their bit before MohinderAmarnath (46), Yashpal Sharma (61) and Sandeep Patil (51 not out) forged a six-wicketvictory. Overcoming the mighty West Indians, however, was a daunting requirement.Everything went as expected initially. Garner and company bowled out India for 183, 32balls inside the allotted 60 overs. Balwinder Sandhu scalped Greenidge but Haynes andRichards batted disdainfully, the 50 came up, and there were some knowing nods about theplace. Poor Richards is usually the one to take the blame for the defeat, though he wasonly the second one to fall when Kapil chased and held on to that loose leg-side shot.Then, wickets fell as regularly as Big Ben’s chimes. India won by a margin of 43runs. Drums pounded in the hotel across the way as Kapil danced a bhangra in the foyer,surrounded by an ecstatic mob.

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Your correspondent was there, genuinely sharing in the joy. But a fewdays later he came firmly down to earth upon receipt of a letter which suggested he eathis harsh pre-tournament words about India. This he honourably did, washed down withrelief with some of John Arlott’s Beaujolais.

Soon the political juggling began. Everyone, it seemed, wantedto stage the next WorldCup. Finally, with certain long-term guarantees apparently made to pacify others, Indiaand Pakistan’s joint proposal was accepted. The trophy now was transmogrified intothe Reliance World Cup. And the sceptics were put in their place when everything went offvery smoothly.

There was, of course, one major oversight. The host nations did notmake the final. It looked a good bet when they earned places in the semi-finals, butAustralia then filched an 18-run victory at Lahore and Gooch, sweeping just about everyball, made a century that launched England to victory over India in the Bombay semi-final.

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Thus, with Indian and Pakistani cricket-lovers as onlookers at EdenGardens, Calcutta, as two ‘foreign’ teams contested the final, the fourth WorldCup was thrashed out by Mike Gatting’s England and Allan Border’s Australia.David Boon’s 75 and Mike Veletta’s hectic 45 not out lifted Australia to 253 offtheir 50 overs, and tight bowling never let England break loose in reply. Gatting’sdownfall to an ill-advised reverse-sweep at Border is remembered in a sense ofignominy,and ‘Ice Man’ Steve Waugh’s control at the end prevented a late dash byEngland, who finished seven runs short.

Just over four years later, England found themselves in a World Cupfinal for the third time. Surely this was the one? Not at all. Exhausted by their effortsso far, they let Pakistan in after keeping a tight grip on the first half of the innings.Imran Khan (72) and Javed Miandad (58) suddenly opened the throttle, a vital catch wentdown, and Inzamam-ul-Haq and Wasim Akram hit quick runs to raise a sizeable score, 249 offthe 50 overs. Under the Melbourne Cricket Ground lights, before a tumultuous crowd,England lost Ian Botham for nought, to a dubious decision, and never truly threatened onceNeil Fairbrother (62 off 70 balls) was out. The ball swung around crazily, and late thatnight, with everyone bathed in sweat, Imran held the crystal trophy aloft. He had told hismen to ‘play like cornered tigers’, and they had.

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With 39 matches, well over twice the number in that first World Cup inEngland back in ’75, this was the biggest and richest World Cup yet. Televisionrights were worth many millions of whatever currency one chose to select. So once again,the pressure was on for the rights to stage the next, the sixth. Not unexpectedly, the ICCmeeting to discuss the ’96 World Cup became heated. The numerous smaller countrieswere naturally most interested in how much they would get out of it. Their votes weredecisive.

So the World Cup was back on the cricket battlefields of thesubcontinent, this time with matches also in Sri Lanka. Personalities came and went,wrangles over television rights splashed acidly onto the pages of newspapers, and venueswere changed, causing confusion in the ranks of tour organisers.

But it will all come right in the end, and many, many millions will focuson their TV screens as the world’s cricketers strive to steal runs off balls designedto deny them. Heads hung sadly, players will accept their fate while the luckier and moretalented march on to the next stage. And then, at Lahore, it will all reach boiling pointas the best two face each other for the crown—and the loot.

(The author is editor of Wisden Cricket Monthly.)

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