His numbers may have been average, but the esteem with which his contemporaries and rivals remember him offers a much more accurate picture of Salim Durani’s qualities as a cricketer.
Here is an interesting exercise for you. Find any Indian cricket fan over the age of 60, and ask them how they’ll remember Salim Durani, who passed away at the age of 88 on April 2. Chances are that the answer will mention his six-hitting prowess and the flair with which he played the game.
Now, head to the record books and check how many sixes Durani struck in a Test career that began when he was 25, but took in only 29 matches spread across 13 years. In 50 innings, Durani hit 15 sixes. To put that into perspective, Wasim Akram once smashed 12 in a Test innings. Eoin Morgan cleared the ropes 17 times during a World Cup game against Afghanistan in 2019.
Durani averaged 25 with the bat, and 35 with the ball. His only Test hundred, in Trinidad in 1962, came on his first overseas tour. He would only make one other, again to the Caribbean nearly a decade later. If you were to go by numbers alone, what jumps out at you are how average Durani’s performances were.
We live in a world increasingly defined by data. It’s not just sport either. Even aspects of human behaviour are explained in the context of numbers. These days, no sports team worth the name plays without at least one data analyst in the ranks. The numbers influence everything, from football transfers to players’ workloads during the Indian Premier League (IPL).
ML Jaisimha, Durani’s friend and teammate who passed away nearly a quarter century ago, scored three hundreds in his 39 Tests and averaged just 30.68. Yet, Sunil Gavaskar, whose greatness as a batsman needs no description, (partly) named his son after him. Whenever Gavaskar spoke of Durani, there would be a twinkle in the eye and a softening of the voice. It was no different with Gundappa Viswanath or any of the members of the legendary spin quartet. These men didn’t just respect or admire Durani. What they felt was adoration that almost bordered on worship.
And that’s when you realise just how inadequate numbers can be. These old pros saw something with their own eyes, special qualities that they remembered with awe more than 50 years on. The fan, who isn’t blessed with such ability, or the analysts, with their world of zeroes and ones, cannot possibly grasp that. And certainly, no number can define it.
If you’ve reached a certain age, it can be incredibly frustrating to explain to a much younger follower of sport just how exceptional a particular player was. Take Zinedine Zidane, who scored 31 goals for France in 108 appearances. Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi have over a century of goals for their countries. How then, a young tyke might ask, can Zidane possibly be part of any conversation involving the very elite?
If you ever had the privilege of watching Zidane play – impeccable ball control, pirouettes and precise through balls – you’ll know that the question itself is preposterous. The same is true of Socrates, scorer of 22 goals in his 60 matches for Brazil. What number or data set could ever convey the majesty of Socrates’s surge through the Italian defence to tuck Zico’s magical pass past Dino Zoff in one of the most dramatic football matches ever played? Or the manner in which he conjured up space to unleash a thunderbolt into the far corner of Rinat Dasaev’s net to equalise against the Soviet Union.
Some moments, especially in the sporting arena, can only ever be lived or experienced. You can’t ever adequately describe them. In that context, maybe the stories handed down across the generations, of Durani obliging the crowds’ every request for sixes, aren’t myths after all. Some personalities are so much larger than life that their feats and accomplishments also appear outsized. Durani was one such character. Indian cricket was blessed to have him.