Srinivas Venkataraghavan is one of the great figures of Indian cricket. His Test career lasted nearly 18 years, since when he has been a manager, an elite umpire, an administrator and a commentator. A fine off-spinner and occasionally useful lower-order batsman, Venkat retired with a batting average of only 11.68 and the poor shot he played at the Brabourne Stadium in Mumbai precisely 50 years ago this Friday would have been one of many. This one just had particularly significant consequences.
Having been parachuted into the team at the last minute following a popular outcry Venkat was playing in his 10th Test, the first of a five-match series against Australia, and India were hurtling to already near‑certain defeat. They were 114 for seven in their second innings, nursing an advantage of precisely 40 over the tourists and needing something of a miracle. At which point Alan Connolly bowled, Venkat swung his bat and the ball whistled through to Brian Taber, the Australia wicketkeeper. There was a half-hearted appeal, in response to which the umpire Sambhu Pan unexpectedly raised his finger, and it was at this point that all hell broke loose.
Ajit Wadekar at the non-striker’s end demanded that the umpire explain himself. Venkat walked off, but not without the occasional backward glance. Devraj Puri, commentating for local radio, which was being closely monitored by many in the ground, criticised the decision in the strongest terms. And a massive crowd, already grumpy about their team’s manifest failings, boiled over.
“Angry spectators hurled bottles, chairs and bricks and lit fires. The Brabourne Stadium ground was littered with glass, smashed chair and stones as police chased the crowd off the field,” the Guardian reported. “The scorers refused to continue after the covering over their heads went up in flames. Fire brigades were called and a riot squad formed a line between the dressing rooms and the pitch.”
Through it all the Australia captain Bill Lawry refused to go anywhere. Play continued as seats and stones rained down on the outfield, and the fires started in the stands started to spread and send thick, dark smoke across the field. At one point Graham McKenzie aborted his run-up after a large rock whistled just past his head. A Test that had already featured two crowd fatalities – a 50-year-old on the first day and a 35-year-old on day three, both apparently of natural causes – had taken an unexpectedly violent turn. Play ended soon afterwards, but the Australians stayed on the field for another 20 minutes while police cleared the area, clutching stumps for self-defence, before being ushered to the dressing rooms through an improvised tunnel formed of police shields.
AN Ghose, president of the Board of Control for Cricket in India, said such incidents had “never happened in India before” (not entirely true, though they had not previously spread to Mumbai), that they “only tend to blacken the image of our country and leave behind a bad taste” and that true fans should give visiting players “a rousing reception wherever they go and cheer them as they play”.
It was not a message that was widely taken to heart. Australia completed victory in that first Test, drew the second and lost the third. By the time the action moved to Kolkata for the fourth Test attention was so intense that 10,000 fans turned up at Eden Gardens for Australia’s final practice session, forcing its abandonment. Ram Chatterjee, Bengal’s sports minister, issued a plea for calm, asking locals to ensure that “the fair name of West Bengal is not tarnished in any way by any untoward incident”, and adding that “each one of you present in the grounds or remaining outside will act as guardians of peace during the great game ahead”.
Chatterjee could have done with some guardians of peace after 5,000 fans besieged his office in search of tickets, forcing him to sneak out by a side door. Not that he could go home, because a further 6,000 people had gathered there. Sadly, there were no tickets remaining. The game was a sell-out, and though some tickets would be made available each morning there would be only 500 of them.
Demand for them grew so great that with the match still reasonably well poised – Australia, batting second, had accumulated a 123-run first-innings advantage but with India 12 without loss in their second knock it was all to play for – 25,000 people camped overnight in the hope of seeing the fourth day. Three hours before the gates were due to open that day’s meagre allocation of tickets went on sale and, realising the hopelessness of their cause, many fans decided they might as well have a go at breaking in. Such was the ensuing chaos that by the time police arrived and with the aid of “repeated charges and tear gas” brought the situation under control, six people were dead and around 100 injured.
The game still continued, and Australia romped to a 10-wicket win. The next day, as their players travelled to the airport by coach, they came under attack. “Before we had time to collect ourselves, rocks the size of half house-bricks were smashing into both sides of the bus, shattering nearly all the windows,” wrote Lawry. “The driver tried to accelerate up the hill while all members of the team flung themselves to the floor, wondering whether they would be dragged out and stoned to death if the bus stalled. As we reached the top of the hill we regained our seats with as much dignity as possible. Looking back, we could see a group of about 100 Indians waving their arms angrily at us.”
Before the fifth Test at Chennai, which they won to secure a 3-1 series victory, there was a game against South Zone, which was abandoned 10 minutes early when Australia seemed set to secure an undeserved draw and fans started to throw their rubbish – largely apple cores, orange peel and assorted nuts, as well as the more traditional stones – at the fielders.
Lawry had the misfortune to be batting as the missiles rained on to the outfield. Still, by this time he had seen quite a lot worse. “Compared to what can happen in India,” he wrote, by now with some authority, “I would describe this as a mild and friendly gesture.”