Curtly Ambrose - Fast-bowling juggernaut turned reggae musician

Ambrose’s bunny and things you should never say

Perhaps the moment when Ambrose became feared as a person as opposed to being feared as a cricketer was during the first final of the 1993 World Series. Pipping Pakistan, Australia and West Indies qualified for the best-of-three finals, the first of which was held in Sydney under lights.

After a rousing start by Brian Lara and Desmond Haynes, West Indies lost their way in the middle order and trudged to make 239. It was not a stiff total, but batting under lights would always be difficult.

Australia started slowly, and though they lost two wickets, moved on to 68-2 during the middle overs, from which they hoped to launch a late counter-attack. Ambrose who had picked up both wickets to fall was brought back in for his second spell to bowl at Dean Jones and Steve Waugh.

It was right at that moment when Jones halted play and had a quick word with the umpire. The umpire later called a confused Ambrose and told him that Jones had requested he, Ambrose, take off his white wristbands as it was interfering with the batsman’s concentration. The demon inside Ambrose stirred. Nobody had asked him to take off his wristbands before.

On 16 January 1993, the Australians understood the meaning of the proverb - to dig your own grave. Ambrose - sans wristbands - bowled with true fire, serving up the short stuff to Jones. A visibly disoriented Jones was out soon after.

He came back later in the day to clean up Ian Healy, who faced the brunt of his anger. Ambrose then wiped off the Aussie tail as they crumbled to 214 all out, giving West Indies a major win. Ambrose took 5-32, and the whole world got the chilling message - don’t mention the wristbands.

Ambrose’s anger was rarely invoked, and when it was, it was terrible to behold. The Northamptonshire cricket club still talks of that fateful day when Dermot Reeve managed to get under Ambrose’s skin and got three consecutive beamers for his efforts.

Though Ambrose enjoyed getting batsmen out in general, he had an affinity for one man. Michael Atherton often called the immovable object soon found an unstoppable force in Ambrose.

The latter dismissed him 17 times in 26 matches, including 4 ducks - most famously perhaps in England’s tour of West Indies in 1998, where Ambrose got the better of Atherton 6 times in the series, effectively making him his bunny.

Sledging, swearing and disappointment

While the entire world gave Curtly a wide berth, there was one man who didn’t seem to play by the rules - Steve Waugh. Indeed, when the batsman was at the receiving end of several unplayable deliveries, he decided not to back away slowly in the face of danger, but to take the bull by its horns.

After a particularly good bouncer, he walked up to Ambrose, and laced with unprintable content, asked him what he was looking at.

Later, Waugh fondly reminisced that “his eyeballs were spinning, and he edged to within a metre. It seemed he was ready to erupt.” Towering over the diminutive Australian, Ambrose whispered ferociously, “Don’t cuss me, man.” Further events of the fighting kind was prevented by the timely appearance of Richardson, who grabbed Ambrose bodily - as the latter was refusing to leave the pitch, staring daggers at Waugh – and attempted to heft him off the middle.

Ambrose held back by captain Richardson

Ambrose bowled with murder in his heart, taking 5 wickets as Australia folded for 128 - but he was not satisfied, for Waugh remained not out on 63. Waugh would later go down as one of the few batsmen that Ambrose truly respected.

There are other anecdotes too, which show the amount of weight that Ambrose carried. In the 1992 World Cup, when Mark Greatbach, the New Zealand opener tried to come down the ground and hit Ambrose for six, he peered down at him and grumbled - “the pitch is 22 yards long, don’t try to make it 18.’ Greatbach meekly agreed.

There was also when he ran up to bowl to long-time enemy Atherton and bowled the first ball of the match way over his head where it promptly landed beyond the boundary after just one bounce. Ambrose walked up to him and said, ‘You have a good game, now...’, leaving Atherton positively terrified.

A sportsman’s career is seldom full of just distinguishing moments. The greatness of players is measured by how hard they fall, and how well they pick themselves up. Ambrose still considers the 1996 World Cup his biggest and hardest fall.

Chasing 207, the Windies got a taste of their own medicine as they went from 173-3 to 194-8. Though Captain Richardson was at the crease, the chase was shot to hell and the Aussie bowlers tried to bounce Ambrose - the penultimate man - out.

Richardson took most of the strike and with the score on 202 - just six away from victory - Ambrose called him for a suicidal run, trying to help him get off the strike. Ambrose got himself hopelessly run out, and with the wicket of Malcolm Marshall in the next ball, Australia went into the finals.

It would be the last time that West Indies ever made the semi-finals of the World Cup.

Life after cricket, and following a dream

After a wholesome career, Ambrose decided it was time to hang up his boots in late 2000. After already having retired from ODIs earlier, Ambrose decided to give it one final go against the old enemy - England.

Passing 400 wickets in the penultimate Test match, Ambrose finally achieved the milestone of belonging in the 400 wicket club - the second highest wicket-taker for West Indies in Test matches.

With 405 wickets, Ambrose ended his last match with 28 valiant runs in the lower order, though England won the match eventually. Ambrose got the special guard-of-honour from the Englishmen as his career faded into the sunset.

If anyone assumed that Ambrose would continue his strict lifestyle of not interacting with journalists and living off the grid, they were in for a huge surprise. Once the retired from the game, he became surprisingly open and often gave interviews regarding his views on the game and the West Indies board.

Journalists who were initially rebuffed and scared away were now welcomed with open arms, which brought an immediate change in their behaviour towards Ambrose, dubbing him the ‘friendly giant’. The big question remained - what would he do after cricket? There was always only going to be one answer - become a musician.

A decade after he quit cricket, Ambrose and Richardson founded their own band

Along with long-time friend Richardson, he founded the ban The Big Bad Dread and the Baldhead, a band who play a mix of reggae and calypso. A popular band in hometown Antigua, Ambrose plays bass guitar for the band who are very prominent among the Caribbean nightlife.

His regular customers - apart from the locals - include Courtney Walsh and Patterson Thompson, both fellow fast bowlers. Following favourite musicians Bob Marley and Peter Tosh, Curtly seems to have found solace in his musical abilities, which lead more weight to the fact that he is not as dangerous and forbidding as he seems.

Ambrose’s legacy and a time to talk

For a man who never corresponded with journalists in his time, the name of his autobiography was apt - Time to talk. In the book, he reminisces of his early life and career, along with interesting anecdotes of the West Indian dressing room.

Delivered in his own imitable style, the version of events come across as modest and humble, not at all arrogant and threatening as he was thought to be. It also describes his departure from cricket and entry into music, which was a second calling.

Ambrose’s band, which was renamed Spirited, has travelled to New York, London and Grenada, and have made a name for themselves at home in several music festivals, including the celebrations during May Day, the ABTWU Annual Dinner and the Agricultural Fest in 2012.

Having been together for 9 years, the band’s friendship and love for music is what keeps them together, and on nights in Antigua, fans can never miss the soulful rendition by Ambrose on his guitar, his huge hands which made the ball a whizzing projectile, now delicately moving over a string instrument.

Today - on his 52nd birthday - Ambrose continues to make people’s feet quake - not in terror, but to a lively tune. After being knighted last year, he vehemently denies that he has changed, smiling broadly and assuring people that he is the same Ambrose, who once made Jones rue his “strange request”, and now serenades the crowd in Antigua as night falls over the beautiful Caribbean beaches.

A live performance by Curtly Ambrose: