Rambo, unarmed, unprotected
Hemant Kenkre
The sad saga of Raman Lamba and the circumstances of his tragic death have left a bitter taste in one's mouth. In fact, this has
been a terrible month for Delhi. First, they were debarred by
the BCCI for refusing to continue play at Madras against Tamil
Nadu and second, the tragic case of Raman Lamba losing his life
with his spikes on.
The first time that Raman and I interacted, we had an altercation. This was
a long time ago when Tata Sports Club, the team I represented, was playing Indian Airlines for whom Raman opened the batting at the sylvan Panjim Gymkhana ground in Goa. The first communication I received from the dashing Delhi opener was
an explicit two-finger gesture. Not one to take things the Canadian
way, I erupted and gave him the choicest in Marathi, reminding
him that Delhi bahut door hai.
Game over, the tournament hosts -- Arlem Breweries -- organised
a bash at O Coqueiro (the restaurant of Charles Sobhraj fame)
and Raman and I amicably settled matters over a pint or two. After
that incident, Raman always had a good word to say to me and
vice-versa. We met off and on whenever he toured Bombay with the
Delhi and West Zone sides and one thing that endeared him to me
was his never-say-die attitude. He could never take no for an
answer.
Ask any Bombay cricketer who played in the mid to late eighties
and he will tell you just how much they respected Raman Lamba.
And, not without reason. He had, more often than not, stood between
the Ranji champions and victory. He had put their best
bowlers to the sword and his scalp was the one that the
Bombay bowlers prized in local competitions.
It was for his swashbuckling
ways that he was named Rambo and many a times the Bombay and West
Zone bowlers felt like the filmi army which took on the fictious
screen hero played by Sylvester Stallone. In fact, Rambo was an
apt nom de plume for this much loved cricketer. Like his screen
counterpart, Raman believed in guerrilla tactics to quell the
opposition.
Raman played four Test matches and 32 one-dayers.
He scored a century in a one-day international against Australia.
When India toured Pakistan under the leadership of K Srikkanth,
Raman was an automatic choice for a place in the side for the
first Test. It is because of injury that he was replaced by
an out-of-form Mohammed Azharuddin who made a dream return to
form. Though in his late thirties, Raman
had not retired from cricket, but continued to play for his local
Delhi club, Sonnet, and in the Dhaka league where he breathed his
last.
Most cricket lovers will not remember Raman for his career statistics
but will not forget him for his attitude and the sheer audacity
that he displayed on the cricket field. He hit the longest sixer
that I have ever seen at the Wankhede stadium -- he smashed a ball from Narendra Hirwani right out of the ground and into the nearby University stadium. Hirwani had just
made a sensational debut against the West Indies and captured
the imagination of the cricketing world. Raman, on the other hand,
had a point to prove. Cricket
lovers across the country will also remember Raman for the six he hit
off the legendary Imran Khan over cover point!
He batted with gay abandon and had developed a unique batting technique
of his own. A three step, ungainly shuffle preceded each stroke
which was hit with a firm resolve. There was nothing tentative
about his batsmanship. His technique had, at one point in time,
become the focus of discussion. The pundits found a variety of
flaws in his version of the art of batting, while Raman continued
to score runs by the bushels as if to spite the know-it-alls.
One quote of his is immortal. When asked about the flaws in his batting technique
Raman said, "These guys try and teach Sunnybhai (Sunil Gavaskar)
how to bat. Who am I?"
Raman's untimely death has numbed the cricket world. It
has also opened for discussion, the safety aspect of the game.
There is a school of thought which believes that protective gear
should be mandatory. I do not subscribe to this line of thinking.
Cricket, unlike boxing, is not a contact sport which requires the
participants to wear protective gear by law.
Raman was full of bravado and did not feel it necessary to don
protective gear while fielding at forward short leg. He paid the
price. More often than not, one sees plenty of cricketers playing
organised cricket on the maidans in the country who do not feel
it necessary to wear protective gear while playing the game. This
incident, I am sure, will make them sit up and take notice.
A hard
shot can kill -- whether it is hit by a Test, first class or a
club cricketer. It is therefore imperative that coaches, captains
and administrators across the country impress upon cricketers
to don protective gear and not take risks. They need to be told
that they could end up like Rambo who died unarmed, unprotected.
Indian cricket has lost a loveable, hard playing character who
endeared himself to cricket lovers thanks to his never-say-die
attitude. We will miss you Raman.
Hemant Kenkre
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