A 'single ball'—or two— that defined the West Indies 1979 World Cup triumph.
1979 was apparently a tough time in the UK economically, as the country dealt with stagnant growth alongside high inflation and interest rates—a situation referenced as 'stagflation'. However, those broader issues did not seem to weigh on me at the time; cricket was starting to take hold, secondary school was going well, and Sony had unveiled a revolutionary portable cassette player called the ‘Walkman.’ Happy days—a device to block out the same old Charlie Rich album every Sunday night—I just needed to find a way of securing a Walkman and letting my father down gently!
The West Indies taking control…
With an array of batting geniuses and a battery of fast bowlers, and fielders who caught pigeons, the West Indies were fast establishing themselves as the dominant force in limited-overs cricket during this period.
The West Indies' triumph in the 1979 tournament served to further cement their dominance on the global stage. Led masterfully by Clive Lloyd both on and off the field, icons like Viv Richards and terrifying fast bowler Andy Roberts were at the peak of their powers. Richards struck fear into bowlers worldwide with his belligerent ball-striking abilities, while Roberts used his electric pace and craft to dismantle opposing batting lineups. Oh, then there were: Greenidge and Haynes; Michael Holding and Joel Garner; Alvin Kallicharran—the list goes on.
They had no issue with 'stagflation; the Caribbean team lit up the English summer with their explosive brand of cricket based around power, aggression, and athleticism. Fans were treated to breathtaking displays of dominant hitting along with ferocious fast bowling, showcasing why the West Indies had taken control of the limited-overs game
The 1979 Final…
Single balls can define games—not knowingly at the time, but with the benefit of reflection, their significance can be more apparent. This was the case in the 1979 final between the West Indies and the hosts, England.
Before we get to that ball, one of the protagonists.
I, like most other cricket followers, was hopelessly memorised by one Issac Vivian Alexander Richards. To the point of emulation that bordered on insanity. Richards wielded a Stuart Surridge Jumbo, a senior at Longsight Cricket Club, had one. Selwyn played in the 2s. I was getting on the team sheet when they were short; my size was a harrow at that time. Selwyn’s Jumbo was twice the weight of my Gray Nicolls; I always lent Sel's Jumbo when my father wasn’t there. It was hopeless; I wasn’t able to lift it past my knee. “How many today?” John would ask. “Ahhh, not many, got a good-un” was my meek reply. How I wanted to bat like King Viv.
Richards was a modern-day colossus. He shared a nickname with legendary heavyweight ‘Smoking Joe Frazier’—their physiques were identical, carved from stone, a fearsome sight if you happened to be on the opposite side of the fence.
Viv Richards was the batter every kid aspired to be in an era where attack was now overtaking staid defence. I had never chewed gum before; now I knew every Wrigley’s variation. When set, Richards was a sight to behold—an unflappable, uncompromising, unstoppable force of nature. Every crashing cover drive, mighty pull shot, and contemptuous flick off his pads signalling his regal disdain for both bowlers and fielders' futile efforts to contain him. He was heavenly solipsistic. He was simply ‘King Viv’.
That single ball…
The beauty of rigorous research, how condescending, is discovering stuff you were blissfully unaware of. This passage is a case in point.
One delivery from the 1979 World Cup final will forever be with one of England’s finest seam bowlers, Mike Hendrick. It was a contested case of ‘what might have been’-including the hero of this narrative, King Viv.
Legend says Hendrick never looked at a replay—he didn't need to. He knew what transpired when he bowled that ‘single ball’ to Viv Richards, and he probably knew its potential impact.
It wasn’t Hendrick’s last delivery to Richards that day, flicked majestically for six, which defines the 1979 Final. It was the first ball of his second spell, also to Richards, that was the case of ‘what might have been’.
The ball veered from its straight axis courtesy of the Lord's slope. Hendrick was a master of lateral seam movement and bowled a length that, to the batter, always appeared shorter than it actually was. Richards, as was his want, moved to cover off stump, next frame, the ‘not white ball’ thumped into his front pad, evading his lucid down swing, just as Hendricks had drawn up.
Umpire Barrie Meyer, a pleasant man, turned down Hendrick’s exalted appeal for leg-before-wicket, on cue, England’s balcony disappeared from view, with players and staff seeking erroneous confirmation from a TV replay. They duly returned with evidence that Hendrick had his man, Richards had been given a life; he was 22 at the time, this later morphed into a mesmerising 138.
That ‘single ball’ theory!
A report…
England's decision to insert the West Indies after winning the toss looked to be paying early dividends when the World Champions slipped to four for 99. This was Lord’s—it always does something before lunch. The late Bob Willis was heard saying, “This could have been over by lunch"—yes, there were lunch and tea intervals. And our hero, Richards, was proving mortality existed, as his progress was nothing but serene. England held the upper hand.
Enter Collis King—a kindred spirit. Anointed the ‘Kingdom’ King game into the game with a record that belied his impact.
As a rule, the West Indies spurned all-rounders. You either bowled fast or whacked it everywhere. Yes, Sobers was pretty good—was he an all-rounder, though, or just very good at both?
At 28, King was no spring chicken; many thought of him as an untapped talent. He averaged just 14 from six innings previously, and rumour has it that he borrowed Desmond Haynes boots as he only had runners packed! Nevertheless, ‘Kingdom played the innings of his life’.
With 19 runs in the bank as the teams retired to the Lord’s dining room for lunch, King exploded when they resumed. He drove the pivotal partnership of the game—139 in 21 overs—with Richards, cutting and pulling anything short of a half-volley. For once, Richards took a back seat, allowing ‘Kingdom’ to whirl away with dashing abandon.
When Derek Randall held one from Phil Edmonds bowling, King had raced to 86 from 66 balls, with three towering sixes and ten fours. It was embryonic ‘Bazball’ from the ‘Kingdom’. Did King’s innings overshadow Richard’s eventual hundred, from the purist no to the practical yes?
‘King Viv’ did have the last word, though.
The other'single ball’ was the last delivery of the West Indies innings.
Few patrons will forget his impish footwork that allowed him room to flick an attempted yorker over mid-wicket, scattering the Mound Stand enclosure. It was vintage Richards; again, Hendrick was the unlucky bowler!
Four hours later, the West Indies would be crowned World Champions again, and no doubt the ‘Kingdom’ and co. would celebrate in some style.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter of a look back at the evolution of cricket’s only true and authentic World Cup.
As always, thank you for being here.
Superb again Nick. A lot of Charlie Rich can be tiresome, Neil Diamond not so