David Murray: A sordid saga of a magnificent cricketer

David Murray

Discipline in sport, or in any other part of life, is certainly a necessity. You require an almost superhuman level of focus, concentration and hard work in equal measure if you want to succeed at the highest level. There will be distractions aplenty, but wavering from discipline in the pursuit of other pleasures is not the hallmark of a sportsman.

Revelations of drug scandals involving some of the leading figures in the world of sport have become a very regular occurrence now. In the late seventies and early eighties, cricket witnessed the beginning of this menace, watching in horror as supreme talents fell into oblivion due to their penchant for such substances. Their skills were never in question, but the continued abuse of marijuana, cocaine etc. wrecked them completely – both in their professional as well as personal lives.

On the heels of their growing dependency on such toxic items, several such players belonging to the West Indies embarked upon a tour to South Africa in defiance of the existing norms that the United Nations and the governments of their own countries had established with regards to the apartheid era then prevalent in the Rainbow Nation.

Despite a winning performance, and contributing a little towards the beginning of changed thinking with regard to the coloured population, they were shunned, ostracized and vilified upon their return to the Caribbean.

Among that band of so-called mercenaries was one player who had a cricketing pedigree second to none, at least not in that team. Fluid and graceful behind the stumps, he had also inherited some of his legendary father’s powerful batting genes. Most unfortunately, he had also fallen into the habit of using marijuana, though it did not affect his on-field performances.

David Murray, son of the legendary Everton de Courcy Weekes, was one of the casualties of that 1983 rebel tour which, coupled with his drug habit, ended his playing career rather prematurely.

Before his fall from grace, he was one of those cricketers who commanded respect simply by his calm, athletic presence as a wicket-keeper. Add to that his stylish stroke-play, and David really stood out like a Goliath among all the other glovesmen of his era.

Locals still talk fondly about the silky movements of his hands, a feature of his keeping style. He would have been the best answer to the Windies’ dilemma of having a stumper who could bat well too. The flair in his willow-wielding exploits was evidence of the powerful genes he had been bestowed with by his more illustrious father.

However, he did something at the age of eleven that would haunt him forever; he took to smoking cigarettes, before switching to marijuana in his later years.

Despite all this, his skills did not wane. He struck three half-centuries in his nineteen Test matches, and even had a double hundred in first-class cricket.

He did not concede even a single bye in his maiden appearance in the domestic cricketing arena. Crouching low and blessed with nimble feet, he could anticipate the movement, even the late ones that the bowlers would generate, and move with the agility of a panther on either side of the wicket.

The Barbados selectors persisted with the young talent, eventually making him their first-choice wicket-keeper even when the touring Australians played a game with the local side in the 1972-73 season.

Those performances were enough to send him on the tour to England in 1973, as understudy to fellow stumper and namesake Deryck Murray. David blasted a magnificent century – his first in first-class cricket – against Kent, displaying ample proof of his abilities with the willow.

His fine form continued on the tours to the Indian sub-continent; playing once again as specialist batsman, he made another century against the likes of spin legends Prasanna and Chandrasekhar at Ahmedabad, pairing with the great Viv Richards. Yet, he still could not break into the Test side.

Wicket-keeper David Murray attempts to run out Peter Willey in the 4th Test between the West Indies and England in April 1981 at Antigua.

Then came the ill-fated tour to Australia in 1975-76, where the visitors were trounced by a heavy 5-1 margin. David’s marijuana use – he would smoke before and after the day’s play, but never during the breaks – became known. An intervention from senior player Lance Gibbs saved the 25-year-old from being sent back home.

Kerry Packer’s arrival on the scene during Australia’s return visit of the Caribbean proved to be a god-send for the young keeper. After Clive Lloyd resigned in protest along with many of the players who had signed up for World Series Cricket, David took over from Deryck, and contributed decently with both bat and gloves as his side won the five-match series.

Next, on his first tour of India as a member of the national squad, David blossomed as both batsman and wicket-keeper. But at Bombay, his stint with drugs re-started. Around the same time, he started doing cocaine in addition to marijuana, but his abilities were not hampered.

When his namesake retired, Murray became the first-choice keeper for the national team, but his place was under threat from a young player in the same mould – Jeff Dujon. Soldiering on despite a broken finger, he did well enough in the Test matches against Australia. However, Dujon’s superior batting abilities, translated into fine knocks, saw the incumbent 30-year-old dropped from the side for the ODI leg of the tour.

Murray was disgusted, and refused to serve as the drinks trolley-pushing 12th man. He says that he was fitter than before, yet the selectors did not pick him, and he was fined $1,000 for his outburst. He never played an international game for West Indies again.

Frustration seeped in when he was persistently ignored by the selectors despite decent performances back home. Dujon’s stocks were rising by this point, and it was evident that Murray wasn’t going to be considered for another shot at international glory. He threw in his lot with the 18-member squad that toured South Africa in 1982 and 1983, thus hammering the final nail in his coffin as far as international cricket was concerned.

$120,000 was the amount he received for his participation in the twin tours, but relentless barbs, jibes and furious voices of dissent forced him to live in Australia for about eight years after the second trip to the Rainbow Nation. The brickbats notwithstanding, Murray recollected that the children in South Africa, who had never imagined they would meet any cricketers, were ecstatic on meeting the rebels and even being coached by some of them.

Economic considerations were the chief reason for the life-changing decision that David and the others made, but the repercussions kept coming even after their return to their homeland.

The wicket-keeper could not find a steady job anywhere, and strangers on the street would constantly berate him for betraying his ilk for money. His drug habit was re-ignited, and the once-athletic sportsman was reduced to mere skin and bones, peddling the same set of substances he had become dependent on.

If Everton Weekes, at 88, could see his son in his lowest moments today, he would be too dazed for words. At 63, David looks like an octogenarian on his last legs.

He resides in his childhood locality of Station Hill in Barbados, and ekes out a meagre living by providing tourists with stuff. Along with Richard Austin and Herbert Chang, David Anthony Murray seems doomed to just fade away, with nothing left but wisps of memory of one of the greatest wicket-keepers in the world.

Discipline could have saved him. Now, it is a bit too late.