Sir Garfield Sobers was the Muhammad Ali of cricket. There is no man like him. To paraphrase Mike Tyson on Ali: "He looked more like a male model than a fighter, but he was a Tyrannosaurus Rex with a pretty face." Nobody beats Sobers.
To his friends he was Sobie, and the name carried warmth and respect in equal measure. As someone who faced him on the field, watched him up close, and learned from him directly, I count myself fortunate to have shared moments with one of the true giants of sport.
My memories of Sobers stretch back over many years, from wide-eyed teenage admiration to direct competition, and later, personal guidance. His influence shaped my approach to cricket and also my understanding of resilience and dedication.
My first memories of Sobers date back to the West Indies tour of Australia under Frank Worrell in the 1960-61 season. As a teenager, I was captivated by the calypso-style attacking cricket played under Worrell, matched by the Australian team led by Richie Benaud. Both captains understood the need for the cricket to be entertaining, and it suited the way their teams played.
Batting talent abounded on both sides. I was already a great fan of Neil Harvey and Norman O'Neill, but after the tied Test in Brisbane, I became a great fan of Sobers and Rohan Kanhai as well. Sobers scored 132 in the first innings, and Kanhai made 54 in the second -- innings full of flair and skill that captured my imagination.
Sobers' long backlift and full follow-through stood out, as did Kanhai's quick feet, cover drives and cuts. By the time the series reached Adelaide, I could not get to Adelaide Oval fast enough to see them in person, and I spent the days before the Test outside the nets there to watch them up close.
Sobers did not do much with the bat in Adelaide, but Kanhai made a century in each innings -- his off-side driving down on one knee still stands out in my memory. Sobers' cat-like movements in the field and his catching also caught my eye. From memory, he caught and bowled both O'Neill and Benaud. He had hands like baseball fielders' mitts - the ball just disappeared into them.
Interestingly I, a right-handed youngster, had two left-hand batters as his role models. When I played Test matches in the backyard on my own, throwing a ball against the laundry wall and then hitting it, I always made sure Harvey and Sobers scored runs. I even batted left-handed when they were "at the crease", and they still made runs. Without realising it, they reinforced what my father had taught me: that the role of the batter was to look for run-scoring opportunities.
The following season, Sir Donald Bradman arranged for Sobers to play Sheffield Shield cricket for South Australia. He was an immediate success, taking the most wickets for the team in the season and making over 500 runs. The proof was in the pudding, in 1963-64, when he made 973 runs and took 47 wickets to lead South Australia to the title. Garry had a hugely positive effect on a new generation of young South Australian players, including my brother Ian.
During his time in South Australia, Garry was the ambassador for a series of matches sponsored by John Martin's department store and Coca-Cola. I was lucky enough to play in that series and came under the tutelage of the great man at coaching sessions. His coaching was simple, incisive and instructive - honestly, it was enough just to be in the same environment as Garry, watching and learning at close quarters.
The next time I saw him was when I played against him for Somerset against his county side, Nottinghamshire. I was 19 years old and still honing my skills. We played at Somerset's home ground in Taunton, which was, by English standards, fast and bouncy. Garry dismissed me in both innings - leg before wicket to a sharply inswinging delivery for 5 in the first, and caught in the slips off one that was pushed across me in the second. At least I had made a hard-earned 50 along the way.
The return match was played at one of Nottinghamshire's outer grounds, in a town called Newark-on-Trent. Garry did not get any runs in this game, but he did not get me out either.
The real value of the occasion was getting to talk to Garry at the functions held on both evenings. I noticed he was drinking heavily and in no rush to get to bed. Having heard some of the stories about his hard-living lifestyle, I asked him about it. "Greg, you have got to understand that I am living for two men," he said.
I had heard of him having been behind the wheel of the car in which his good friend, the highly rated Jamaican batter Collie Smith, had been killed. In September 1959, Sobers, Smith and fellow West Indian fast bowler Tom Dewdney were playing league cricket in England. Early on the morning of the 7th, the three were driving down to London for a charity match, with Sobers at the wheel. Around 4:45 am, on the A34 near Stone in Staffordshire, the car collided with a ten-ton cattle truck. Sobers later said he had been blinded by oncoming headlights.
While Sobers and Dewdney escaped with minor injuries, Smith had been asleep in the back seat and was thrown forward violently on impact. At first the injuries did not seem very serious, Smith, conscious after the crash, famously told Sobers, referring to Dewdney, "Don't worry about me. Look after the big fellow". Tragically, Smith had suffered severe spinal injuries. He slipped into a coma and died two days later, at the age of 26.
The loss of his close friend and team-mate devastated 23-year-old Sobers. The turning point came when he realised that letting his life spiral away would be a disservice to his friend's memory, and he made a vow: he would no longer play just for Garfield Sobers, but for two men - himself and Collie Smith.
Our paths crossed again when the Rest of the World team toured Australia as a replacement for the cancelled South African tour in 1971-72. Garry captained the World XI in that series, and going into the third Test in Melbourne, his highest score in the series was 33 - as the media had noticed. The World XI batted first and were dismissed for 184; Dennis Lillee, continuing his inspired bowling from the Perth Test, took five wickets in the innings.
Garry came in at No. 5, following the loss of early wickets, with Dennis in full flight. Dennis showed no mercy, peppering Garry with a string of bouncers and finally having him caught at slip by Keith Stackpole without scoring.
Garry was a man on a mission in the second innings. The sun shone brightly, the pitch was dry and firm, and he proceeded to play the best innings I have ever seen at that level. His treatment of Dennis' short balls was devastating. It is not often I have stood and watched an opponent bat without wanting the innings to end.
Garry was the best cricketer I have ever seen - the best batter and the best allrounder. He was originally picked for West Indies at 17 as a bowler, and was good enough to have played Test cricket in three categories: as a pace bowler, a spin bowler, or a batter. I have never seen another player of whom I could say that.
Jacques Kallis' name often comes up when I say this, but he was not in the same class as a batter. Garry took opposition attacks apart with power and flair; Jacques took them apart like a surgeon. It is no mean feat to be mentioned in the same breath as Sobers, but there is daylight between those two, in my opinion.
Garry was a cricketer of such immense genius that he commanded the absolute reverence of both the game's greatest icon and its sharpest modern minds. Bradman held no reservations in his assessment, famously declaring, "I've got no hesitation at all in saying that Garry Sobers is the greatest all-round cricketer I ever saw."
That brilliance was witnessed at close quarters by my brother Ian during their time together in the South Australia dressing room. For Ian, sharing a field with Garry was nothing short of transformative. He said it was a wonderful education in both cricket and life. Together, Ian's and Bradman's words paint the portrait of a sportsman who did not merely play the game but elevated it into an art form.
Garry's life and career are a testament to the power of hard work, adaptability and a love of the game. His legacy is one of unparalleled achievement, but it is his humility, his contribution to the development of the game, and his commitment to nurturing future generations of cricketers that truly define him.
In the annals of cricket, few names shine as brightly as Sobers, and fewer still have left such a lasting impact on the game.