It would be wrong to say that the spell was completely broken. The spinners could still win matches, especially at home, but only one more series was won while the quartet were all still functioning, against New Zealand in India in 1976/77. In the series against England that followed, Bedi, Prasanna and Chandrasekhar shared 62 wickets.
Bedi, with 25 at 22.96, was the leading wicket-taker and he took 6 for 71 (9 for 100 in the match) in India's sole win in Bangalore -- but England, under the inspirational leadership of Tony Greig, won the series. In India's next series win, at home against the West Indies in 1978/79, the leading wicket-takers were Ghavri and Kapil Dev.
But it had been a remarkable period, almost impossible to credit now when orthodox finger spin is held in such low esteem. The true test of a practitioner's quality, in any sphere of activity, must surely be the judgement of his peers. Few would doubt that the world's greatest batsman at the time when Bedi was at his peak was Hampshire's South African opening batsman Barry Richards.
Barred by politics from opposing each other in Test cricket, they had numerous encounters in county games and Richards had no doubt that Bedi was the greatest spin bowler he played against (he had, of course, few opportunities to face Chandrasekhar and Prasanna).
Richards testified to Bedi's two great virtues: his temperament, and his variety. A good temperament is a real virtue in a spinner; it means not simply bearing up when condition are adverse but, equally if not more important, not getting over-excited when conditions are favourable. Bedi was a master in both situations. As for variety, according to Richards -- and Mike Brearley and Tony Lewis made the same observation -- Bedi's great skill was that he bowled with the same action all the time but produced an array of different deliveries.
Thus the stock left-armer's ball, turning away from the right-hander's often groping bat, might first be pitched well up and flighted and then be faster and slightly shorter -- the batsman could not be sure; there was a beautiful arm ball that frequently deceived batsmen playing for turn and another which floated in and then turned away -- Bedi himself said this was not intentional, 'it just happened'. There were degrees of spin and subtle variations of flight and loop -- what Ray Robinson deliciously refers to as Bedi's 'waftishiness'.
Also read: 'Chuck out the Javelin throwers'
Photograph: Bristol Photo
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