Michael Wille died in Australia a few days ago and his funeral will take place on Dec. 6

By Michael Wille

I have been asked to write an article about my cricketing journey from Colombo to Melbourne. I have some reservations about how relevant my article will be. However, I trust that it will serve essentially as an insight to the exhilarating schoolboy cricketing era of the 1950s.I debuted for Royal in ’54 and captained in ’57. A couple of weeks after the Royal-Thomian I migrated to Australia, and was the first Sri Lankan to play District (Grade) cricket in Melbourne.

In the ‘50s, Sri Lanka was far from attaining test status. Sri Lanka possessed great players such Mahadevan Sathasivam, F C de Saram, C I Gunasekera, Vernon Prins, and Mike Tissera, et al. The only exposure to international cricket that Sri Lanka had was a one-day friendly played when the English or Australian teams passed through Colombo on their way to Australia or England every two years.

In Australia at that time the game was purely amateur. Today, Sri Lanka has achieved test status and cricket is professional in both countries and the standard of cricket is considerably higher, particularly fielding.

Maybe my article should be regarded as no more than providing some insights into specific schoolboy cricketing encounters in the ‘50s, magnificent experiences that have now become wonderful memories of glorious days in the sun among some incredibly talented and sporting cricketers.

From the time I can remember, Sri Lanka was cricket mad. It was the only game in town, with the Royal-Thomian (RT), Josephian-Peterite and Ananda-Nalanda big matches being the centrepiece of the island’s sporting calendar. I attended my first RT at the iconic Colombo Oval in 1947 at the age of nine, I will never forget the experience. The flags waved by the supporters of the rival schools, the gaily coloured dresses of the girls, the raucous singing from the Mustang tent and the beating of rabanas (the papare band) gave the match a carnival atmosphere. Records show the Royalists won the game and  a happy nine-year-old went home dreaming that one day he would be playing in the match.

I joined Royal in 1951, the RT of that year was one of the most exciting in the history of the game and was described as “the impossible finish of ‘51”. Royal, the underdogs snatched victory in the dying moments of the game. The Thomians had Roger Inman, Jayalingam and P I Pieris but the cool head of Vairavanathan (the Royal captain) saved the day for Royal. I left the ground with an even stronger desire to play in this great match.

I came a step closer of achieving my dreams when, as a 15-year-old, I was selected to join the First XI squad in the third term of ‘53. Nirmalingam was captain and we had a very strong squad with ten coloursmen, including Ubaya de Silva, “Frecko” Kreltzsheim, Ranjit de Silva and Fitzroy Crozier. The freshers were Brendon Gunaratne, Selvi Perinpanayagam and I. Dr Barney Gunasekera was the coach, and Harold Samaraweera the cricket master.

I interrupt my narrative to pay homage to two men who have had a massive influence on my cricket and my life, namely Barney and Harold.

In Sri Lanka, we tended to idolize and hold in awe men who had outstanding sporting success. In 1930, Barney playing in the big match, broke the record by scoring 130 runs and taking nine wickets. This match went down in history as Barney’s Match.

Barney was not really a cricket coach in a technical sense. He was more a philosopher with an interest in the mental aspects of the game. I cannot recall him talking to me about batting technique. One afternoon he said to me: “Michael, just play your normal game and don’t look at the scoreboard. I guarantee that if you do that and bat for three hours you will score a century.” I did just that in the RT of 1957, when captain, and scored a century.

Barney was a self-effacing man with a whimsical sense of humour and he treated everyone with respect. Barney had coached for many years and was highly respected by all of us. We would have walked over hot coals for him.Harold was my under-14 coach, my form master in Form 3 and now the cricket master of the First XI so I knew him very well. Harold was an enthusiastic and happy guy who wore his heart on his sleeve. At Royal, we were a bit elitist and because Harold had not played for one of the big schools we tended to underestimate his advice. He was very knowledgeable on cricket and was a great help to me when I was captain. Harold and Barney have passed on and I often think of them with love and gratitude.

After the first practice session, Barney addressed the squad. He said he believed that to play for Royal was an honour, he believed it was essential that we played as a team, and he believed it was important that we played within the rules and the spirit of the game. He said that if anyone did not believe in these three pillars than he did not want that boy in the squad. Very inspirational stuff!

To a Royalist (or Thomian) the RT is the Holy Grail but there were some other matches that also had a long tradition of fierce competition. One of these was the Wesley encounter. In 1954, Wesley had a strong side – the Fuard brothers, the Adhihetty brothers, Samsudeen, Chapman and Neil Gallagher to name a few.

Nirma won the toss, we batted and made about 200. M. Wille ct Chapman b Fuard 1. Abu was too good for me.

Miraculously we dismissed Wesley for 39. Unfortunately, I cannot recall who took the wickets. Nirma enforced the follow on and the Wesleyites did better in their second dig, avoiding an innings defeat, but leaving us with about 40 to win. It should have been a piece of cake but Lou Adhihetty and Samsudeen had other ideas and made us earn every run.

I understand that in later life Lou became heavily involved in the Christian church. But he showed no Christian brotherly love that afternoon. Samsudeen and Lou subjected us to a barrage of bouncers, one of which hit Rabindran in the face. Rabindran dropped like a sack of potatoes and there was blood all over the place. I was padded up and trembling in my boots. I prayed to all the gods Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim and a few others that I invented that I would not have to go in. My prayers were answered as our early batsmen weathered the storm and we won a hard-fought game by a comfortable margin.

Later on I was awarded my “colours” along with Brendon and Selvi. There is nothing more satisfying than to realise a dream one has worked very hard to achieve. The ‘54 RT, unfortunately, like the four I played in, ended in a draw.

Off the first ball of the match their star batsman, Tyrell Gauder, was given not out to a catch behind the wicket. You could hear the snick at the Borella junction. It was a shocking decision. Nirma looked at the umpire and walked back to his mark. Tyrell shrugged his shoulder as if to say, “What can I do.” We got on with the game. No histrionics. The other highlights were a brilliant 69 by Nirma before he ran himself out and a rearguard action from the Thomians to save the match, including a fighting 48 from Michael Tissera giving an indication of things to come.

After the match, the Principal of Royal and the Warden of S. Thomas’ hosted a dinner for the two teams. We could not wait for this to be over so that, according to custom and practice, we could paint the town red. First stop the Liberty cinema, owned by the Cader family.  Zacroff was playing for S. Thomas’, and everything, bar included, was on the house. The teams then adjourned to the CR & FC as guests of some reprobate old boys of both schools. Last stop, Galle Face Green for a sing-song and a few bottles of beers. Home at about 5am.

I really believe that this bonding led to a great spirit of camaraderie between the teams and was the start of many lifelong friendships, which was a hallmark of schoolboy team sport at that time.

Ranjit de Silva captained in ‘55.  In ‘54 I had batted at No. 6, and I was hoping to talk Ranjit into letting me bat at No. 4. After the first practice and after Barney had made his speech he turned to what he termed “housekeeping matters”. He called for a volunteer to open batting with Selvi. Nobody spoke. I took a great interest in my boots and avoided eye contact with everybody. Suddenly a voice pipes up, “Michael used to open in the under-14s”. I could have killed him. Quick as a flash, Barney said, “Thanks Michael, that’s settled then.” So began my career as an opening batsman.

The ‘55 season started poorly as we were comprehensively beaten by St Anthony’s at Katugastota, ACM Lafir, who was playing for Ceylon at the time, made a century, Another superstar we encountered was Clive Inman. Clive was captain of St Peter’s and after leaving school followed Stanley Jayasinghe to England to play as a professional in the Lancashire League.

We played Wesley at Reid Avenue. Lou was captain of Wesley and obviously had not forgiven us for beating them the previous year. We batted first and faced some terrific bowling plus some chatter from Lou and Samsudeen. It was hard to score runs. I called Selvi for a stupid single. “Yes, no, sorry”.  Selvi was run out by half the length of the pitch and he departed staring daggers at me.

I made up my mind to stay in the middle as long as possible (a) to make up for running Selvi out and, (b) to avoid Harold who I knew would be breathing fire. Alas, the best-laid plans. A couple of overs later Lou bowled me a full toss. I thought all my Christmases had come at once. I lifted my head, hit across the line and the ball thudded into the stumps. When I got to the dressing room, Harold closed the door and gave me an unmerciful tongue lashing. He was livid and said inter alia “What is the matter with you? Not only do you run Selvi out you get out to a cock shot. You are a bloody menace.”

I didn’t say a word because he was right. I sought out Selvi, who was rightfully furious with me, and apologized. He accepted my apology and we shook hands and moved on. We lost the match and next week I entered college from a side entrance to avoid the Kadlay man and Cobra man, legendary street hawkers who had, for years, peddled their wares at the gate of the school and who were our strongest supporters and our most stringent critics.

Later in the season, I scored a century against Trinity. Centuries were pretty rare and Harold was over the moon. He grabbed me by the shoulders and, beaming like a cat who had eaten all the cream, said: “Well done Michael, terrific performance, I knew you could do it and, by the way, you are not really a bloody menace.”  We had a bit of a laugh.

The RT was a battle between two equally balanced sides which on a scale of 1 to 10, would probably have been rated at 7. When stumps were drawn, we were three wickets away from victory. There were no outstanding performances, with Brendon doing best for us top-scoring with 48 and taking four wickets in the Thomian first innings

The ‘57 side, captained by Fitzroy Crozier was the strongest I played in and arguably was the strongest side in the competition that year. We had four fourth year players, three third year players, one second year player and four very talented “Freshers” in Lorenz Pereira, the Samarasinghe brothers R K and S C and Pat Poulier. We were going to give the Thomians hell, maybe we were over-confident.

Barney announced that this year would be his last year as coach. We breezed through the early matches hardly ever being put to the test.

Life was great, the only cloud in the sky was the political situation. SWRD Bandaranaike had resigned from the UNP and had formed his own party and was going to challenge the government at the next election on a policy of “Sinhala only”. I was 17 years old and politics meant nothing to me. Although, my dad was very concerned and said that the “Sinhala only” policy would be a disaster for Sri Lanka, and if Bandaranaike won the election he advised me to follow my two brothers to Australia.

I had opened the batting with Selvi for two seasons. For one and a half of those seasons, I scored faster than Selvi. That changed on the day we played St Joseph’s at Darley Rd. We won the toss and Selvi and I walked out together, nothing appeared different except that when we got to the middle Selvi cut and hooked the Josephian bowlers like there was no tomorrow. He left me for dead and made 99.

The rumour in the market place was that Selvi had a secret girlfriend to whom he used to write and on the morning of the game he had a received a “Dear Selvi” letter and decided to take his anger out on the Josephian bowlers. We played Nalanda the following week. We batted second and with Selvi still in a swashbuckling mood we put on over 50 for the first wicket, with Selvi scoring most of the runs.

I went home, had a shower, and went to give my Dad a report on the day’s play. While I was talking to him he told me he was not feeling well and, to cut the long story short, he died within the next 48 hours. His death was a devastating blow as I loved him very much. The immediate result was that the family decided to migrate to Australia as soon as possible as Bandaranaike had won the election.

About three days after my Dad’s funeral, Dudley de Silva, the Principal of Royal asked for an appointment to meet my Mum. He said that he was aware of our plans to migrate and asked if we would postpone them as he wanted me to captain in ‘57. I declined the offer because I was grieving for my father and wanted to make a fresh start in Australia as soon as possible. Also, I never had any aspirations to captain Royal. When my older brother Peter heard of my refusal he applied immense emotional pressure, saying that my Dad would have been proud to see me captain. It was emotional blackmail and I gave in after a week. In the interim Selvi completed a century against Nalanda.’