The Russell Hamer I wish I knew
Russell Harmer was recognised by Sri Lanka Cricketers' Association recently
Russell Hamer, one of the best glovemen Sri Lanka has ever produced, bid adieu to his earthly brethren on March 27. Russell’s health has been failing for a while and we knew he was fighting an uphill battle. Yet, the confirmation that Russell has folded his innings among the mortals to take the battle elsewhere was difficult digest.
I didn’t know Russell Hamer well nor was I his friend. We were acquainted through cricket briefly in the 1979-82 period. Russell was my senior by almost a decade and a half and one of my favourite local cricketers.
Russell Hamer was flashy, mouthy, irreverent and very good behind and in front of the stumps. He was one of the best wicketkeepers Sri Lanka has seen and he was no slouch with the bat either. Russell, as I recall, was one of the early exponents of the then not so looked in favour of sweep shot; not slog, the paddle or the scoop sweep or various other recent incarnations, but the original perfectly orthodox cricket shot called the sweep. He was an excellent sweeper of the ball and a nuisance to bowlers because he would sweep balls pitched in areas a bowler would reasonably consider sweep-proof.
As good as he was on the field for his physical prowess, Russell came to be almost as well known for his incessant chatter from behind the wicket. From what I gather, for I only played one match against Russell where his mouth was mostly silent because he was busy hammering us for a century, his verbiage was largely irreverent and snarky.
But, insolence was never more than an underarm throw away from Russell’s tongue; especially at officious white coats or opposing batters who had overstayed their welcome in the middle.
But, the combativeness was mostly left on the field except for those pulling the strings of Sri Lanka’s cricketing pecking order. Many of us who are familiar with that order hoisted upon us by a sycophant chatter class, could relate to Russell’s frustrations and were silently cheering him on.
As a teenager, I loved to watch Russell keep and bat. I was a fan. Teenagers are attracted to flash and swagger and I was smitten by the abundance of those qualities presence in the man. Russell was the real deal. He had lightening quick hands behind the stumps, a quick eye and a quicker tongue. What’s there not to love?
In 1979, I got my only chance to go up against my childhood idol. I was 17 and playing my debut first class match for Board President’s XI against Maharajahs. Russell was keeping for Maharajahs and at the prime of his career. Russell got a hundred and I got him with the second new ball. Not exactly even, but I was happy.
Later in the year, I was selected to Sri Lanka’s 1979 Prudential World Cup squad. I was the sole left hand bat in the squad. Many, including this writer, felt that the seasoned left handed Russell Hamer would have been the more logical choice compared to a 17-year-old with one first class match to his credit. The unhappiness of the selection process ended up in the courts where a litigant sought an injunction against the selected squad, especially the parachuting of an untested teenager over seasoned and deserving players.
I toured, but unfortunately Russell did not. To this day, I wish we were both part of that 1979 squad to the Old Blighty.
My last encounter with Russell was at NCC grounds, probably around 1982. I was playing for NCC and Russell for (I’m not certain) Nomads. During lunch break Russell calls me and says “Passy, there’s a thalagoya on the MCA side. Lets go!” I had heard of Russell’s fondness of thalagoya flesh but had disregarded it as typical tall story about a colourful Burger cricketer. Well, it was not a tall story I found out first hand.
Mercifully for the thalagoya and myself, Russell’s hunt was not successful. I shudder thinking what would have transpired if Russell found that iguana. Maybe he would have intimidated it to death by his chatter. Yeah.
Russell also said he was sorry about the 1979 court rigmarole regarding selections. “No hard feelings Passy?” No hard feelings Russell. Not for a second.
Russell Hamer was truly one of a kind. When he didn’t like what he saw, he mouthed it; when he felt wronged, he mouthed it; when challenged to prove it on the field, he proved it.
Russell fought the thin skinned bumptious order at Maitland Crescent, and came up short. As a result, the country lost the services of one of its most uniquely gifted cricketers.
Bon voyage Russell. I will always cherish you.