As the Border-Gavaskar Trophy in Australia draws near, I am increasingly enthused by the prospect of exceptional cricket being played between two formidable teams, complemented by the iconic commentary that will vividly capture each moment with precision and flair. Watching cricket in Australia is an experience beyond the game itself—grounds like the picturesque Adelaide Oval or the storied Sydney Cricket Ground, act as theaters where the drama unfolds. But what truly sets the spectacle apart is how it has been narrated over the years. Cricket broadcasting in Australia, especially through Channel 9 and now Fox Cricket, has elevated the game to a visual and emotional experience like no other. While prominent media outlets like the BBC and SKY Sports have made lasting impacts, Channel 9’s excellence stands out as the gold standard for me. Their team’s insightful analysis and storytelling made cricket more than a sport—it became a narrative that gripped the viewer, immersing them in the highs and lows, the brilliance and the heartbreaks. Channel Nine’s cricket broadcasts were distinguished by a remarkable assemblage of commentators, prominently featuring Richie Benaud’s authoritative expertise. By merging technical innovations with his characteristic poise and attention to detail, Benaud provided cohesive and engaging coverage. Listening to icons like Bill Lawry from my incentive years, ingrained in me that, cricket commentary, is akin to a maestro conducting an orchestra, turning the ebbs and flows of the game into a symphony of words.
The art of describing each delivery, each stroke, and each wicket captures not just the mechanics of the game but its very soul. Like a film director guiding an audience through a narrative, an astute cricket commentator can take us through a rollercoaster of emotions, making us feel every triumph and every despair. My early years were marked by the profound impact of a ‘single voice’ that not only introduced me to the art of spoken word but also instilled in me the unrealized dream of becoming a cricket commentator. During the 1991-92 India tour of Australia, Channel Nine’s esteemed panel of commentators, featuring luminaries such as Ian Chappell, delivered a masterclass in expert cricket analysis to both local and global television audiences.
Not having previously encountered such elevated standards of cricket broadcasting, one voice, belonging to a distinguished Englishman recognizable by his signature Panama hat, particularly captured my attention. His energy was infectious, his descriptions vivid, and his passion for the game unparalleled. That man was Tony Greig—an icon in his own right, who turned commentary into art. For nearly three decades, Greig was the voice that painted the game with bold strokes, mixing a player’s insight with a storyteller’s flair. His booming voice carried the weight of experience, his observations felt like they were being drawn from an infinite well of knowledge, and his ability to weave emotion into analysis ensured that every ball, every run, and every wicket was a moment to be savored.
Tony Greig was not just a broadcaster; he was the bridge between the game and the fans. With his voice, cricket wasn’t just watched—it was felt. But Greig’s initial influence on the game of cricket extended far beyond his iconic commentary. As a player, captain, and later commentator, his journey through the sport was marked by audacity, passion, and a certain rebellious charm. Before his legendary commentary days, Greig was an imposing figure as England’s captain. Standing 6’6″, his physical presence was as striking as his playing style. He was a versatile all-rounder who could turn the game with both bat and ball. One of his most memorable performances was in the 1974-75 Ashes series when he stood tall against Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson, two of the fastest bowlers in cricket history. His counterattacking century in Brisbane, where he relentlessly took on Thomson, showed his fearless approach to the game. Greig was always ready for a fight, but it was his tactical acumen and leadership that truly set him apart. He was one of the first captains to truly embrace the all-rounder’s role as the team’s pivot.
However, it was Greig’s involvement with Kerry Packer’s World Series Cricket (WSC) that perhaps had the most lasting influence on the sport. In the late 1970s, cricket was still a relatively conservative game, both in terms of how it was played and how it was presented to audiences. Enter Kerry Packer and Tony Greig. Greig’s decision to align himself with Packer’s vision of cricket broadcast revolutionized how the game was televised, transforming it into the high-octane spectacle we see today. His move was initially controversial, and he was vilified by some traditionalists, but Greig saw the future. Coloured clothing, night games, and global broadcasts were born out of this era. This rebel competition forever altered how cricket was consumed, elevating its popularity, and Greig was at the heart of it.
One of the most telling anecdotes of Greig’s fearlessness came in the lead-up to the 1976 Test series between England and the West Indies. In a now-infamous comment, Greig declared he intended to make the West Indies “grovel.” The comment sparked outrage, and it became a rallying cry for the West Indies team, who proceeded to decimate England in that series. Greig’s words were controversial, and he later regretted them, but it was emblematic of his character—always willing to stir the pot, never afraid of confrontation.
As a commentator, it was this same larger-than-life personality that endeared him to fans across the world. Greig was never shy to voice his opinions, and his genuine excitement when narrating the game made him a fan favourite. His acclaimed dialogue, “The little man has hit the big fella for six! He’s half his size!” echoed during Sachin Tendulkar’s monumental ‘Desert Storm’ performance in Sharjah, or his description of Shane Warne’s magical hattrick in the 1994 Ashes, that left his own countrymen, dumbfounded, “He’s got the ball spinning like a top”, are few of the many memorable one-liners from Tony Greig, that have enthralled cricket fans across the globe. Platforms such as YouTube, containing archival footage with Greig’s commentary, remain popular among cricket aficionados seeking to relive the sport’s most thrilling moments through his distinctive voice.
One particularly poignant moment from Tony Greig’s commentary career that remains etched in my memory is when he made an unannounced visit to the Sydney home of a young cricket enthusiast struggling with leukemia. The boy was a massive cricket enthusiast and adored Greig’s commentary. Tony spent hours with him, recounting stories, talking cricket, and sharing laughter. He didn’t have to do it, but it showed the genuine warmth and care he had for fans of the game.
Greig’s partnership with the legendary Richie Benaud was a staple for cricket lovers. While Benaud was the master of subtlety, Greig was more flamboyant, and their contrasting styles were a perfect balance. One particularly memorable interaction came during a broadcast when Benaud was discussing Warne’s bowling, emphasizing the technical brilliance behind his deliveries. Greig, with a cheeky smile, remarked, “Richie, I think you’re being too nice. He’s just too bloody good!” That one-liner encapsulated Greig’s no-nonsense style, his ability to cut to the heart of the matter with warmth and wit. Greig’s teasing of Lawry’s well-known love for pigeons became iconic, with their friendly rivalry evolving into a much-loved feature during matches. It wasn’t just about the game for them—it was the personalities behind the microphone that made the commentary so engaging.
Greig was diagnosed with lung cancer in October, 2012. He said in a media report, “It’s not good. The truth is I’ve got lung cancer. Now it’s a case of what they can do.” Greig passed away on December 29, 2012, at St Vincent’s Hospital in Sydney after suffering from a heart attack.
Tony Greig left an enduring impression on my mind, and my lasting recollection of him will forever be as a formidable presence, renowned for his exceptional all-round cricketing prowess, astute leadership, and later, his distinguished commentary career marked by typical traits such as wearing a Panama hat with a tie and navy blue blazer. And who could forget the quirky habit of using his car keys to demonstrate the hardness of the pitch during his pitch reports? It’s these charming nuances that elevated him from simply being a voice of the game to being a beloved character in the world of cricket commentary. His voice may have fallen silent, but the memories and moments he immortalized in his commentary will live on, echoing in the minds of cricket lovers forever.
