23 July,2023 07:39 AM IST | Mumbai | Ian Chappell
Wicketkeeper Brian Taber during an Australia practice game at The Oval in London on April 27, 1972. Pic/Getty Images
Herbie had suffered breathing problems from serious asthma ever since I got to know him on our first tour in 1966-67. Despite his health concerns he seemed to have nine lives like a cat but this was his final one.
A couple of years ago his wife Fran sent me a text saying, "Herbie's going into hospital and he won't be coming out."
Lo and behold Tabsy was soon back at the retirement village, and we were having our regular Saturday morning snooker game followed by a couple of glasses of red wine. At a younger age people asked how he was and I'd say, "If Tabsy gets past 45 he'll make 90."
Sadly he fell just short but he displayed staunch fighting qualities to reach 83. Tabsy was resilient; he never complained - just got on with life and did his job. The cat was not well at times but he was alive until Friday.
In his prime he was an Australian wicketkeeper, a fine glove man and probably the most popular cricketer I ever met. Wherever you went people would ask how's Tabsy? You'd tell them nothing has changed but Brian is still battling. The reply was always the same; "Isn't he a good bloke."
His first Test was in South Africa 1966-67 and Herbie claimed a very creditable eight dismissals - it would have been nine but one local umpire was extremely patriotic.
In December 1968 NSW skipper Taber equalled a then world record of twelve dismissals in a game against South Australia. We used to joke; "How did you get a stumping of leg-spinner Dick Guy. He never spun a ball."
Despite Tabsy's prowess as a smooth keeper with good footwork I worried about him after he was struck in the eye by a bail in a charity game. In 1982 we took an old-timers team to play in Fiji - Tabsy was our keeper and we had three wrist-spinners in the side.
When David Sincock, the biggest spinner of them all, hit the edge of the matting with his first delivery it flew past the right-hand batsman's left shoulder. Tabsy collected the ball easily and casually tossed it to me at slip. The next ball hit the same spot on the matting and shot straight along the ground just missing off stump. Herbie again easily collected the ball and casually tossed it to me at slip. I stopped worrying about Tabsy's damaged eyesight.
We admired Taber as a âkeeper but were wary of him on the golf course. Herbie was a regular âmiracle' worker on the course and would often produce unbelievable shots.
In India in 1969 Tabsy produced his piece de resistance. The first two holes were halved so the match rested on a par three of 155 yards. Tabsy caught a bit of the sandy tee and then flubbed his iron so he exclaimed, "Might be time for the Texas Wedge."
He proceeded to give the ball a good tap with the putter and it gained much needed impetus from a strategically placed rock about six inches from the pin. Its last roll was into the hole.
Quite unperturbed Tabsy marched to the hole and collected his ball, noting as he replaced the pin, "We've got our par."
Tabsy retained his incredibly quick and salient sense of humour to the end. He also helped other keepers, including Rod Marsh the man who took his place in the Australian side.
He was an extremely good manager and one of his great contributions to Australian cricket came when in 1991 he managed an under-age side to the Caribbean. At departure he was told by a naive official, "If [Shane] Warne puts a foot out of place send him home."
Tabsy quite rightly ignored the advice, made Warne the social secretary and after his playing success on tour, Herbie told me, "By the way the young bloke is a really good leg-spinner."
Tabsy was a good cricketer, he understood the game and knew how to handle people. Importantly he was a good bloke and we all miss the gentleman wicketkeeper.
60
The number of dismissals Brian Taber had behind the stumps in 16 Test matches for Australia
Also Read: Cricket, quite the gentleman's game?
