Woolmer would have been upset by Pakistan’s exit. But he had said that he would definitely quit only if they won. If they lost he might consider his work unfinished.
Bob Woolmer was one of the great men of cricket. The game was not only in his blood, it was a large part of his soul. His enthusiasm for it was unbridled. Woolmer was one of the few who not only understood the minutiae of the game but also recognized its part in enriching our lives.
The game was his life and he followed it round the globe. He played for Kent and 19 times for England, he was the national coach of both South Africa and Pakistan and in between times was the International Cricket Council’s man responsible for developing the game in the emerging nations.
It will be an enduring monument to his love of the game that he was probably the only man to see Hanif Mohammad score 499 as a little boy in India and then Brian Lara 501 for Warwickshire. When he was a baby Woolmer’s dad put a miniature bat into his cot and said to his unknowing son: “I hope this is your life.” It was.
Woolmer was born in Kanpur, India, but as a child of the very late Raj he was an impeccable Englishman from the accent down. It always seemed odd that he was prepared to coach in so many bizarre places but he was so deeply enamored of the game and its place in the world that he saw it as his mission to take it wherever he could.
He was excited about this World Cup. He was always excited about cricket but bumping into him in the Pakistan team hotel in Kingston last week his mood was unmistakable. He was convinced that the Pakistan team who had approached this tournament accompanied by turbulence would discard their woes and play as they can.
In the event, he was as wrong as could be. They were awful. As ever, as only he could, Woolmer went before the reporters and gave his version of events. There was no hiding, no surliness, no rudeness, just good old open Bob, giving his version of the game politely, patiently, enthusiastically.
It is often forgotten now what a wonderful player he was. He had the most delicate of touches as a batsman and was a thoughtful medium-pace bowler. A key member of the Kent side of the Seventies, his star also shone brightly, if briefly, for England. In his first international incarnation he entered the national consciousness by scoring the slowest-ever Ashes century and, in his second, played a prominent early part in the triumphant 1977 series against Australia.
Asserting his independence like the old-fashioned Englishman he was deep down, perversely set him against the establishment. Off he went to join the Kerry Packer circus, World Series Cricket, set up in 1977 and then to rebel tours of South Africa. It was in South Africa that he settled with his wife, Gillian. But he never had any intention of being away from cricket. He never was.
For such a gentle soul, it was ridiculous that trouble stalked him. He called his first autobiography Pirate and Rebel (to denote his association with Packer and the illicit South African tours). His life afterward was touched by controversy, all of which he took in his corpulent stride. The great thing about him was that he always had time for a word.
He was coach of South Africa shortly after they got back into world cricket and he made them into a great side. They should have won the 1999 World Cup in England. He still did not like reflecting eight years later on the semifinal defeat against Australia.
Then, it transpired that some members of his team had been on the take by fixing matches. Woolmer said he had known nothing about it and he was one of the few men in the world you would have believed. Naïvety allied to worldliness were, paradoxically, two of his virtues. It was just like him to take the Pakistan job. He thought he could turn this disparate bunch of talents into a unified fighting force. There were times when he seemed to have succeeded. But even he could not nail their tendency to implode.
The off-the-field events which had been burgeoning for seven months since the ball-tampering incident at the Oval last year proved too much to cope with. He was sanguine, but knew, too, that there was nothing he could do about unrest in the Pakistan Cricket Board. He attempted to concentrate on the game and to persuade his players to do so. He was dreadfully busy, but we had known each other for nearly 30 years and he insisted on a drink. The engagement remained unkept because of work but he passed on a message to another reporter insisting on another time. This reporter, who had never met him before, was touched by his willingness and candor. He would have been upset by Pakistan’s exit. But he had said that he would definitely quit only if they won. If they lost he might consider his work unfinished. Whoever wins the World Cup it does not matter. The rest of the tournament should be played in memory of my friend, Bob Woolmer.
