Malinda Words: Daya Sahabandu ran out of partners but must have smiled to the end

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is 199th article in the new series that began in December 2022. Links to previous articles are given below]

It is a name that lends itself to multiple truncation. Daya Sahabandu was Daya to some. The surname was duly split and while some referred to him as Saha, others preferred Bandu. At least according to former Sri Lankan test cricketer Athula Samarasekera who wrote a beautiful tribute to him on Facebook.

Athula contends that regardless of address, the man was full of ‘dayaava (humanity or kindness).’ Athula knew him, as did all those who played Division 1 Sara Trophy club cricket between 1963 and 1992, as someone who was feared by batters. They all knew what Athula describes as a trademark smile, chewing a corner of the closed lips.

I didn’t know him. I do remember my uncle Grenville Herat, who captained the ‘Varsity’ team back in the early 70s, taking me to see a cricket match at the Municipal Grounds. I remember one of the teams being Nomads. He may or may not have mentioned Daya, but I knew the name for I was an avid reader of the sports page of the Daily News from the time I could read and being a cricket fan checked out all the scores of ongoing matches. Daya’s name always popped up. There may have been a picture or two for I have on more than one occasion recognised him in the streets. That face. That chewing of the lip, according to Athula, which I mistook for a habit of grinding his teeth.

I think there must have been a story published in one of the newspapers when he took his 1,000th wicket in Sara Trophy matches. Perhaps someone mentioned it to me or there was some reference to the fact in some other piece on bowlers or the pre-test era. The number stayed with me. My friend, colleague and sports journalist Dhammika Ratnaweera mentioned it in a tribute published in the Daily news and Sa’adi Thawfeeq, friend, colleague, stats man and sports journalist confirmed this when I called him.

He played 253 matches in total, bowled 6552.1 overs of which 1919 were maidens, conceded 14,787 runs, took 1048 wickets at a 14.11 average. He represented Ceylon/Sri Lanka from 1969 to 1975, played 18 matches and took 87 wickets at an average of 19.49, with 6 five-fors and 2 match bags of 10 wickets, his best being 8.37 vs East Zone in 1975. Dhammika mentions, in addition, a brave innings as a night watchman in an unofficial test against India in 1975, when he defied the deadly spin of Bedi, Prasanna and Chandrasekhar for five and a half hours, remaining unbeaten on 32!

Athula remembers a certain remarkable uniformity in the way Daya responded to what happened on the field. He was unmoved. The same smile, the same chewing of the lip, regardless of the outcome of any delivery, regardless of the decisions of the umpires. It probably indicates focus of an exceptional order. Teams going up against the Nomads did not worry about fast bowlers, according to him. It was Daya. Just Daya.

Sa’adi echoes the sentiments expressed by Athula — he was one of the best of the pre-Test era. In bowling at least, he was our version of Gary Sobers. He opened the attack with his medium pacers and would later switch to leg-spin. Tom Graveney, recalling Daya’s efforts in 1969 states that Daya was the best left arm bowler he had faced in his 26 year career up to 1969 and opines that had he been born in England, Daya would have played for that country.

He's gone now. The man who spun out hundreds of batsmen was spun out himself in the end. I saw a post quoting another legend, Mevan Pieris. Mevan lamented that apart from himself and Michael Tissera 'not a single other cricketer who had played with him at school, club or national level attended the cremation.’

‘Not a single Royalist or a representative of the Board of Control for Cricket was there. Only about 15 persons were at the final send off to this illustrious Royalist and National cricketer. Such is life.’

When I learned that this great cricketer was no more, I felt sad. I am out of the country and attending the funeral was out of the question. I wouldn’t have gone, even if I was back home. I rarely attend funerals of those I do not know, not even those of distant relatives. I did think of those ‘Daily News days,’ random street-sightings and what I took to be the habit of grinding his teeth. And those 1,000 plus Sara Trophy wickets.

‘Such is life,’ Mevan is correct. We do what we think is right (as he and Michael Tissera did), observe presence and absence and leave it at that.

Daya Sahabandu didn’t die. But he certainly ran out of partners. I like to think that such things would not have perturbed him one bit. He would have smiled. To the end.

19 August 2023

Daya Sahabandu ran out of partners but must have smiled to the end

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