I was fascinated by players who could play pace, and I'm talking real, serious pace. I knew how difficult it was to face our guys. I'd faced them in the nets and played against them in the Caribbean, so I knew what batters were up against. I would always look out for the best players of pace and study their movements, because any batter who defied the West Indies was worthy of fascination.
What Graham Gooch did at Headingley in that first Test match was a lesson in batsmanship. It was incredible. My mind was so young, so inexperienced in my learnings about the game. I'd played a lot of first-class cricket but this was different, this was levels up.
I was struck that Gooch was dominating in his late thirties more than in the early part of his career.
What had he learned? That innings in Leeds, 154 not out to carry his bat, was the result of all the experience he had gained over the years, and I'd yet to find myself. I remember thinking: this is the level. I wanted to spend some time with him, to pick his brains. I wasn't upset that he scored those runs. Disappointed that we lost, sure. But in awe of what I'd seen. No one else scored a hundred or got close to it, only Viv (Richards) really stood up for us with the bat with 70-odd in the first innings.
Something else from that Test match. There was a lot of talk in our dressing room about Devon Malcolm and Phil DeFreitas, these two West Indians opening the bowling for England. Back then I felt there was this need to show West Indian fast bowlers coming up against us that the only team they could make was the one they were in.
It wasn't disrespect, but it wasn't far off. It didn't work in that match. DeFreitas picked up eight wickets and Malcolm bowled fast. For us, it was our first loss in England since the '70s.
"I was struck that Gooch was dominating in his late thirties more than in the early part of his career. That innings at Leeds, 154 not out to carry his bat, was the result of all the experience he had gained over the years"
So this is where I was. After that first Test defeat, I went into the zone of thinking that there is an opportunity here. Brian, man, you've gotta score runs. It doesn't matter what happens in the match, whether we win or draw, they're practice games, and there's maybe three, four innings before the Lord's Test and I'll be on trial in every one of them. I got myself into that way of thinking.
And what happened? I couldn't score a run. Back-to-back failures. I couldn't understand it. I was focused, sure, but I was nervous, too uptight. My feet wouldn't move properly and I couldn't time the ball. That was me done. Three low scores and that was me out of Lord's. Don't even think about it.
Yet still I couldn't shake it, I was so confused. I wasn't doing the business to even be considered, and it hurt. My brain was working overtime, overthinking, tying myself up with all these ideas. My tour was hanging by a thread.
****
When I think back to that Lord's match I see the class of Carl Hooper. Man, what a player. The ease in which he batted brought out a kind of awe in us, and in all of us, even the senior players. You felt that when Carl went out to bat, they enjoyed it - Haynes, Richards, Greenidge, all these guys would stop what they were doing just to watch him.
He was so talented, yet he didn't understand just how good he was. People would ask why he didn't do full justice to his brilliance, and you know what, there is no clear reason for it. But I will say this: Viv used to make me cry every three weeks, but he would make Carl cry once a week. Viv's tone of voice is intimidating and if you're not strong enough, you can take that personally and be affected by it. Me, I was never really affected by it. In a way I welcomed it, because I was so much under his arm that I knew abuse was coming and I was a strong personality. Carl? I know for a fact that Carl shied away from Viv Richards.
I don't think Viv wilfully intimidated you. It was just his make-up. He's not a bully. Viv Richards is not a bully. But Viv has a very strong personality. He's a very aggressive person who dealt with most things that way. If we had a team meeting, he would inspire. He would back his players forever. He would talk in such a way that it left a mark on you. Even now, he's not a soft person. Maybe he has a soft side, but a soft person?
Put it this way. Viv was Viv, with everything that went with it, at all times. I was on his tail all the time so I might have received more tongue lashings than most, but it never affected me badly because I knew that what he was talking about was what West Indies cricket needed to hear. If you sift out all the toughness and the so-called arrogance and listen to what he's really saying, he means well for West Indies cricket. Sure we had a couple of run-ins, especially later when I was captain and he was selector, but I think I stood up to him most of the time.
A lot of players wouldn't dare admit they didn't like Viv Richards, or that they felt intimidated by him. I would say that I love Viv Richards and he did try to intimidate me but never succeeded. I have seen with my own eyes big men brought to tears, including me, under the wrath of the King.
Now listen, it needs to be said that Viv Richards never cried down on a person because he didn't want them to be great like him. His sternness was who he was, but he never wanted you not to do well. It was just how he was. And look, Viv loved Carl. Much more than he loved me, that's for sure. But the way Viv shows love didn't resonate with Carl.
Carl was easily one of the best players I've ever seen. I would say that not even Tendulkar and myself would come close to that talent. Separate Carl's career from playing to captaining and his numbers are very different. As a captain he averaged near to 50, so he enjoyed the responsibility. It's sad that only as a captain did he fulfil his true potential.
That week at Lord's, there was a lot going on. After Carl's hundred, we were in the field and at the end of play Viv called a team meeting. He sat us all down and went round to the bowlers.
"Curtly, big man, good effort, keep working hard."
"Maco, soldier."
"Young Allen. Good effort, young man. First Test match. Impressed." Then he pauses. "But some of us don't wanna bowl the ball."
So Courtney Walsh starts getting emotional and he's stood up and shouted, "Manager, give me my ticket."
Lance says to him, "Why, what happened?"
And Courtney says, "What you mean, what happened? The man calls everybody else and I ain't called and now he says some of us don't wanna bowl the ball. He must be talking to me!"
"A lot of players wouldn't dare admit they didn't like Viv Richards, or that they felt intimidated by him. I would say that I love Viv Richards and he did try to intimidate me but never succeeded"
Lance has to try and talk Courtney down, but Viv won't shift. Eventually our reserve keeper David Williams, who's very religious, got us all to put our hands on each other's shoulders and he said a prayer. That seemed to do the trick, but it was that kind of mood.
With Viv, he doesn't understand if he's hurting someone or not. The match was a wet one and I remember at one point the players came off the field for rain. I was making sure that as the guy on the bench, everybody's comfortable. You help the fast bowlers with their boots, knocking the turf off the soles, and you go to the captain and vice-captain with any requests. They're your focus. I did that job as professionally as I could. I remember taking Ambrose and Marshall's boots and cleaning them up as best I could, and taking their wet tops to the dryer.
Lunch was called, and after doing all that and preparing the lunches for the senior men to have downstairs, I went back upstairs to see the legendary Nancy, who dished up the Lord's lunches, for my own plate. So I'm up there in the line, waiting for my lunch, and Viv looks at me and says, "What are you doing?" I say to him that I'm queuing for my lunch, and that his lunch and the other lunches are all prepared downstairs, where he likes to eat.
"Put that plate down," he says. "I want you to go for a run."
So I have to go out and run around the Lord's outfield for 15 minutes, until the umpires are heading out again, at which point I have to run back in and change into my whites to prepare for any eventualities as 12th man! Man, I was hungry that day.
Same Test match, I broke the curfew.
****
So there was this soca party happening in Brixton. I understood how to play it. Even if you go out through the front door at 8pm, you've got to know where the fire exit is on the way back. I overstayed past the midnight curfew because the party was going so great, and you know, I come back in about 2am via the back door and crawl into the room I'm sharing with Malcolm Marshall and quietly into my bed.
The next day or two, things aren't going great. The tour manager is talking about guys disturbing their room-mates and stuff like that, but I didn't remember Malcolm stirring or getting up, so I didn't think too much more of it. And look, trust me, I'm not the only person in that team breaking the curfew.
Rain was falling at Lord's, and I'd done all my duties. I'm slumped in my chair, dozing a little. And suddenly I'm feeling like I'm in an MRI machine, and I open my eyes and he's right there, his face up against mine.
"Did you have a late night?"
"No Skip, the rain is falling, so you know, and I thought the guys were okay, and, you know, it's raining..."
"Okay, if the rain is falling, get yourself up and go and watch it."
I go to sit on the little balcony and watch the drizzle.
A little time later, I hear Lance, the manager, who likes horse racing as I did, come running in and I can hear him saying, "Where's Brian?" So he finds me alone on the balcony and says, "Come, come, I've got a horse!" But as I get back up to re-enter the room, I see Viv standing there with his towel around his waist, staring me down. I make an immediate U-turn and sit back on the bench. You see, with Viv, he knew everything.
The following that the West Indies had on that tour was just amazing. Unlimited amounts of Caribbean food delivered to our hotel, London teeming with West Indians wanting to be with you. So yes, I enjoyed myself, and yes, I broke the curfew that one time.
Okay, it might have been twice.
But I wasn't a reckless person who smoked or drank a lot. My eyes were open to London. You'd go down to Piccadilly Circus and you're alive to it all. I spent a lot of time looking around London and cutting it close to the curfew, and I don't mind that. I knew that the West Indian presence in London was very heavy, so there was always a phone call, always an offer of something. I was 22, just turned. You felt like you were right in the heart of it. The Caribbean melting pot. And then you had your travellers who would follow the team around. There was Keith the Pipe Guy, and all these characters. It was beautiful.
Not so beautiful: I got fined. Twenty percent of my tour money. That late night caught up with me. I only found out after the tour was done. I had to travel to Barbados to meet with the board and I had my lawyer with me, because I was a little surprised. He said to me, "What did you do to lose money on that tour?" Turns out it was for breaking that curfew.
"So I'm up there waiting for my lunch, and Viv looks at me and says, "What are you doing?" I say to him that I'm queuing for my lunch, and that his lunch and the other lunches are all prepared downstairs. "Put that plate down," he says. "I want you to go for a run"
Man, so much went on during that tour, I had to ask who else lost 20%? There should have been a few, I can say that much. I couldn't deny that I broke that curfew, and if 20% was the norm and the same for everyone, then fine, I deserved it. But it left a sour taste. I was a first-timer and I guess I got what was coming to me. I took it on the chin but it was hard not to feel a little more cynical by the end of it.
****
After Lord's we drove down, Viv and me, to Hampshire, where I decided I got to be a little more aggressive. I'd been poking around and I felt I needed to free myself up and be more attacking. I walked out to bat at Hampshire and let it all go - square-cuts, drives, pulls, flicks, every shot in the book, and I was on 30-odd in no time. I look up and see David Williams running onto the field with a pair of my gloves in his hand. I haven't asked for any gloves but there he is anyway.
"What's wrong, what you out here for?"
"I have a message from Viv, he says to stop batting like a millionaire."
"Tell him where to go."
Now, David is from my country. We know each other pretty well. He's already turned to head back to the pavilion and now I'm shouting back at him.
"David, David! Where you going?!"
"Well, Brian, you've got a message for Viv, I'd better go tell him."
"Come on, man, were you really gonna tell him that?!"
"Of course not, Brian. But I was sent out to send this stupid message, what choice did I have?"
"Okay, cool," I say. "Just please don't tell Viv I told him where to go, all right?"
Viv wasn't wrong. I was playing a shot a ball. I'd had no runs on the tour, I felt anxious, all I could think about was, 'What's next?' So I went out blazing away, perhaps out of desperation. I think, again, it's Viv's way. He was watching me closely, could see what I was doing, and was concerned. I think it was his way of saying, "Slow down, man, it'll happen, it'll happen." I most likely wasn't gonna get anything out of that sort of approach. A shot a ball, you might score a hundred one day, but that's not the way to play in England. You need to grind. And it was his way of telling me that, and showing me love.
This is an excerpt from Lara: The England Chronicles by Brian Lara, available now via Fairfield Books