SIR WESLEY WINFIELD HALL. What can I say about him that is not already said? That iconic figure! The knighthood was sweetest in the length of time it took to come.
Little did we know that the tall lanky lad relaxing in the back seat of my car in 1961 would one day grace the annals of Barbadian history! The late Livy Greaves, Margaret Massiah and this young fellow and I were on our way to St Philip to attend a fete that the former Chief Justice Sir David Simmons’ father was throwing.
That is my earliest recollection of Wes. I never tangled with him on the field. Who knows, I might have come off a hero or I might not have lived to tell the tale. We wore no helmets and I was foolishly brave.
I remember tangling with Carl Mullings of Police, playing in the second division. His first ball was a bouncer. I swung the bat (note I did not say hooked), connected and it went straight into the Harrison College drain. Six!
Five more balls to go, all were bouncers. I say this just to say that in those days schoolboys facing Wes had tales to tell on Monday morning.
Facing George Rock one Saturday at Mental, I tailed out and swung. Even though I had a box in the right place, the encounter limited me to three children. Picture then the reverence we in the car had for this figure.
Our friendship blossomed from that drive. Margaret introduced me all around and the rest is history.
At that time I was living in Jamaica. Whenever Wes came there, he was always welcomed by my family. Over the years I followed with rapt attention the cricketing exploits of this fascinating man.
When I read that Wes had given his life to God, I said a silent prayer as I knew that his commitment would mirror the commitment he had made to cricket. In the glare of public attention he took the humbling (he would say exalted) position of serving a higher being.
I was moved by his reply in a recent interview.
“I gave my heart to the Lord because you can get tired of being a sinner. You tell yourself you are not stealing, you’re not doing anything untoward, but the essence of your existence is life in the fast lane.”
One cannot talk about Wes without mentioning a feature that must be serving him well in his new calling: Wes could talk. Never at a loss for words – whether he was relating how Geoffrey Boycott had a horse as an opening partner or how he had to stop in a village in Barbados to ask why an old lady called her dog Wes, which made him late for a speaking engagement in New Zealand, or why Sir Garry is reputed to have given him the wrong signal against a spin bowler – Wes was always at his best.
He can still have you in stitches with his piquant humour and sharp wit, especially when he is recalling his cricket days.
I tried to get him to join the National Democratic Party in its infancy but he refused. Loyalty is one of his trademarks, although to have been associated with that august body would have been a feather in his many caps.
We are about the same age, and with God’s help we hope to live until 2050. I am particularly interested, as I am sure Wes is, in seeing what we have left for our grandchildren.
While I congratulate my friend on his positive efforts to build a lasting stairway to cricket’s pinnacle, I am concerned that we may be depleting a major portion of the apple that our grandchildren will eventually inherit. Living till 2050 would allow us to see the unfortunate fulfillment of this eventuality.
Sir Wesley, my friend, I salute you for your achievements. The world has honoured you with earthly accolades, but I am sure that none are as precious as being in the bosom of Abraham.
God bless you and grant you a long life with us. Your friend, Harold.
• Harry Russell is a banker. Email [email protected].
