By Albert Baldeo
Dave Martin, another Guyanese icon, has demanded of us, “Where are our heroes, Guyana? Show them to me.” Long after the stumps have been drawn, the applause has died, and the Bourda stand bearing Rohan Kanhai’s image has fallen to dust, we must permanently, and proudly, honor the memory of this great Guyanese pioneer and hero, with a lasting monument and throughway dedicated to him, that capture his magnificent and unprecedented flight of courage, genius and nationhood. Collectively, we will continue to fail our heritage in not doing so immediately.
While we are considered as developing countries, at best, we are accepted in the First World of Cricket, and although our collective stars as cricketers have waned considerably, cricket remains a religion in the Caribbean, and best defines any unifying factor and pride that exists, far outpacing regional political integration.
One of our stars that shone brightest was Rohan Kanhai, still batting 90 not out on last Boxing Day. Like Cheddi Jagan, and many others, he shone for us, and for freedom, independence and dignity! Kanhai transformed batting into art, defiance, and identity, lifting us up from the sugar cane plantations, shattering the shackles of colonialism, and the stigma that descendants of indentured immigrants who had forfeited their caste and class by daring to make the treacherous Kala Pani (Black Water) cross Atlantic journey, to forge a new life in a totally strange land, were below others.
We must name a street, stadium and/or drive after Rohan Babulall Kanhai now! Give Kanhai his due, because his strokes were light years ahead of any other, as he became the embodiment of dominance, pride, and fearless self-belief. Kanhai reminded us that cricket, at its finest, is more than a sport—it is an art form where talent, temperament, and timing blend into something magical. His finest innings transcend national rivalries and statistical milestones, leaving an imprint on the hearts of those who witness them, and his innings glittered, like Guyana’s diamonds and gold.
No batsman has ever dominated with such original splendor, nor in such sublime fashion, while defying coaching manuals. Kanhai was romantically enthralling, imperious and flamboyantly gifted, and his shot selection bore the hallmark of thrilling improvisation, classic stroke play and exalted quality that can only come from a man blessed with genius and divine gifts–and knew it. There simply was no shot he could not play, or invent, dictated by his mood at that time. A vintage Kanhai had no equals. In the most popular version of the game, T20, many pretenders reproduced his unique triumphant falling hook, but none have equalled the rapture and success his inventive stroke added to the dimensions of batting decades long before T20 came into existence. Moreover, Kanhai never batted with a helmet, and his conquests over the hurtling 100 mph leather ball thunderbolts bowlers threw at him, have killed other cricketers, and takes on compelling perspective.
When he was bored, he could throw his wicket away with disinterest, but when he was challenged, he would enter new zones of batsmanship, and no bowler, alive or dead, could escape his genius. The attendant unpredictability is best explained by Ian McDonald, “This explains the waywardness and strange unorthodoxies that always accompany great genius.”
My memory goes back to 1974. My father took my brother Dr. Philip Baldeo and I, to Bourda, temporarily taking leave of St. Stanislaus and Queens College respectively, to see Rohan Kanhai bat-his last test innings. He was 10 not out overnight, against England. He was 39 years old then, totally grey. Dad wanted us to remember our champion who was memorialized globally, and romanticized in folklore. I thank my father to this day for that privilege.
He made 44, before Derek Underwood spun one past his defense on a wet wicket, but I had seen enough of the man to appreciate his genius, knowing that a batsman’s pedigree lies in the quality of his strokes, and in that brief innings, Kanhai played some trademark shots. He hooked, pulled, late cut, cover drove and slashed magnificently, enough to saturate the soul that he was blessed with bountiful talents. He floated off the front and back foot like a ballerina, dropping the ball dead when he defended.
His style was unforgettable, and he added the silken grace to it. When Chris Old and Tony Grieg bounced to him, the bat sprang like a cobra, meeting fire with fire. Never ducking or running. He gave us 2 late cuts which he delicately curved past a hapless Amiss en route to the boundary. A half cut, half drive past cover sped like a laser beam to the boundary, a parting gift to the crowd. Pure willow. Yes, I saw him-Kanhai, the ultimate epitome of elegance and power combined. Underwood said later that was the best ball he ever bowled.
I later met the great man when I became a Magistrate in Guyana, and he was coach for the Jamaican team. He reminded me that my brother Philip was the team’s doctor, and that he was proud to meet me also, then a mere 24 years old. I glanced at his forearms, and thighs, expecting to see muscles like Popeye’s, considering he struck the ball so powerfully, but no such bulk, just ordinary, but natural gifts. As he kept throwing up the ball and catching it with his other hand, his eyes twinkled as he saw my mesmerized glaze. A magician, and an ambassador, extraordinaire!
He was our boyhood hero, and was undoubtedly the most extraordinary batsman the West Indies has ever produced, blessed with such natural ability that he could eviscerate any bowling attack in the world, when he controlled the impetuosities that raged within him. There was beauty in his craft, so much different in his method of annihilation, especially on the treacherous, uncovered wickets in his day. Clinical precision over poetry. Ballet over dance. Artistry over bludgeon. He glided in riveting stroke play, batting with the dexterity of a virtuoso, yet prone to Shakespearian tragedy at any time. Kanhai on the rampage was a mesmeric joy to behold, even for bowlers. And he was the national pride of Guyana, giving meaning to our new found Independence.
If the great Brain Lara, who acknowledged Kanhai as a “true legend” and “architect” who mentored him as manager and coach to the heights he rose to, can pay homage to Kanhai, why can’t Kanhai’s native land recognize him appropriately? In a precious post with him and his beloved teacher, Lara rhetorically asks, “How many of you know this great man?” Guyana and the Caribbean, do the right thing by Rohan Kanhai!
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Editor’s Notes: Hon. Albert Baldeo is the District Leader of Richmond Hill, Little Guyana/Caribbean/India, NY, USA, President of the Richmond Hill Democratic Club, Asian American Labor Alliance, Chairman of the Liberty Justice Center and Baldeo Foundation, a community organization dedicated to the fight for community improvement, justice, equal rights, public safety, dignity and inclusion in the decision-making process.
