Quintessential Englishman transforms into a bon vivant

He could so easily be a character out of a Wodehouse novel, a kind of Bertie Wooster in a nicer sense, not so much an upper class dilettante as a quintessential Englishman, at home in the tropics.

His golden locks no more adorn his forehead as they once did when he was waving the elegant willow in many parts of the cricketing world. In the autumn of life beyond the high summer of international sport, he is getting to be a bon vivant, so much so, it was such a pleasure to seek him out and spend a couple of hours with him when he had come down to Chennai as an orator.

David Ivon Gower, OBE, could have been stepping out of a page of a Debretts guide to etiquette and good behaviour. Even so, amid that cloak of diplomacy, he could still coin the perfect oneliners to put people in their place. His self-deprecatory comments made his speech at the KS Narayanan oration such a pleasant listening experience. There was none of the ‘I did this’ or ‘I made that guy’ superciliousness to the former England captain.

In fact, the amount of fun Gower poked at himself as captain against a mighty West Indian team would have been a lesson in humility for many on speaking tours who make it sound as if self-importance is the greatest human quality. A Saturday evening at his event – the KS Narayanan oration to honour the memory of a great sports lover of the city and patron - was a lesson in life, about how not to take yourself too seriously even if you are thrust into a position of responsibility.

In the course of his speech, he narrates the conversation he had with Ian Botham in the Caribbean when things were going really downhill to make the point that the light personal touch can be as effective as forceful methods of man management often suggested in manuals.

For a man to whom batting came too easily because it was pouring forth from a fountain of talent, time at the crease must have been easier. But then it also came with the exasperating manner of dismissals that had fans and followers wishing to tear their hair. But then it is the sublime moments of great innings that stays in memory more than the occasions on which a batsman throws it away.

A life in sport is as much a cocktail, Gower explains. While it would be simple enough to forage the talent of the opposition in business, in cricket you have to make do with the team you have. It is not certain Gower would ever land a management job given his laidback ways. Maybe, that is why he headed to the commentary box where he lends charm and elegance of phrase rather than deep, insightful analysis of why the men in whites or colours were achieving or failing.

To Gower, life is a breeze rather than a series of storms. You could think of him as a lifestyle guru more than a walking encyclopedia on self-improvement. His philosophy would appeal much to the youth. As Gower explains, it was not as if he was the chocolate boy of the cricket world, golden locks and all. He had his run-ins with the Establishment, but only in a nice sort of way as in an aeroplane ride over where Team England were playing a pointless side game or in printing on his T-short – I am in charge – just to stress that once appointed captain, a player must be given certain amount of leeway.

Gower’s life reflects a lovely way to live, a right blend of fame, happiness and money. But then he was the lucky one, wasn’t he – the public schoolboy with the fay looks and the gift of being able to bat like a dream. And unlike the Kevin Pietersens of this world Gower did not chase money, on the prompting of enviably rich soccer players, at the cost of happiness and fame. Maybe, that is where his secret lies, in the primacy of contentment.