Apartheid cost Barry Richards a proper Test career and a shot at greatness.
Gavyn Davies on the mightiest might-have-been.
Some cricketers fulfil their talent. Others waste it. And a very few have it wasted for them. Barry Richards, a man of prodigious ability, was never given the chance to prove he was one of the greatest batsmen ever. Yet that he was.
I first saw him bat on a cold Southampton morning in May 1968. Batting at No. 4 against Glamorgan, he was undone by the off-cutters of Don Shepherd in both innings, scoring four runs in the match. Hampshire fans wondered whether the golden-haired and athletic South African, who seemed to carry his own sunshine around with him, could adjust to the greyness of an English summer. We need not have worried. In a wet and miserable season the 22-year-old was soon asked to open the innings and he responded with 2,395 first-class runs at 47. He finished second behind Geoff Boycott in the national averages and was made one of Wisden’s Five Cricketers of the Year.
All great batsmen have
time to play shots.
Richards had aeons
His reputation in South African club cricket had been cemented when he played an innings with the leading edge of his bat because it was too easy for him with the full face, a feat he briefly repeated in county cricket. A heavy scorer for Natal, he should have won Test caps during the Australian tour of South Africa in 1966-67 but the Springboks had a greater embarrassment of riches than at any time before or since. After a short stay at Gloucestershire, who preferred to hire Mike Procter, he moved to Hampshire in 1968 still unproven.
Not for long. In his early years his batting was founded on a flawless defensive technique, influenced by pictures of Sir Leonard Hutton hanging on the walls at Durban High School, and on cover-driving so perfect that it was soon compared favourably with that of Wally Hammond. His drives were a combination of exquisite timing and flowing arms. He never seemed to hit the ball hard but unerringly found the gaps, the ball seeming to accelerate as it sped to the fence. When bowlers learnt that he was rather good off the front foot they started to drop it short, only to find his square and late cutting were a match for his driving. Over time his leg-side play also developed strongly and the on-drive past midwicket’s left hand became a staple.
All great batsmen have time to play shots. Richards had aeons. His footwork was uncanny and he often appeared in place before the ball left the bowler’s hand. He once said it amused him to decide where to hit the ball before it was bowled and at the time his ability to hit any delivery to any part of the ground was unique. He may not have had Kevin Pietersen’s raw power but he had the same ability to flick his wrists at the last moment, guiding the ball in unexpected directions. And, when in the mood, Richards was much harder to get out.
So this was the batsman who stepped forward to face a strong Australian team at Cape Town in January 1970. Grounds were packed that year, with many of the country’s non-whites supporting the Australians for political reasons. Two scores of around 30 contributed to a Springbok win in a low-scoring opening match. Moving on to Durban, his home town, he scored his maiden Test century in 116 balls; the only false stroke in his 140 was the last. He and Graeme Pollock, the two pre-eminent talents of their generation, added 103 runs in an hour after lunch and Pollock’s 274 paved the way for an innings win. Many called it the best partnership in a generation. More big scores, including another century, followed for Richards as South Africa completed a clean sweep. He averaged 72 in the series and a decade at the pinnacle of international cricket surely awaited.
Yet Richards and Pollock never batted together again at Test level. Their country was rightly banned from Test cricket over its apartheid policies, which Richards, to his great credit, demonstrated against. There was occasional talk of him qualifying for England but instead he faced years of frustration on the county and Currie Cup circuits.
Bradman said he was
the best right-handed
opener who ever lived
At that level Richards was far, far too good. He scored runs at will and sometimes with an air of arrogant ill humour. Nine centuries before lunch and a career average of 54 merely hinted at his untapped ability. A better measure, perhaps, was his unbeaten 325 for South Australia in a single day at Perth, batting against Dennis Lillee, Graham McKenzie and Tony Lock. There were times when only one man could get him out – himself.
There were high spots as he meandered through a decade of county cricket. Hampshire won the Championship in 1973 and Richards averaged 51, providing with Gordon Greenidge the best opening partnership in world cricket at the time. Greenidge would go on to enjoy a great Test career but no one who watched Hampshire had any doubt about which of the two had the supreme natural gift.
Don Bradman did not lavish much praise on lesser mortals but even he was impressed by Barry Richards. Bradman called him the best right-handed opener who ever lived and chose him in his all-time XI. That is good enough for me.
GAVYN DAVIES is a former government economics adviser and was BBC chairman from 2001-04. He has since co-founded an independent asset management company