Faisal Hasnain, former CFO of the ICC, shares the unscripted morning in 2003 when he found himself having breakfast with Sir Gary Sobers and Sir Everton Weekes at Durban Airport.
I was a little boy the first time Sir Garfield Sobers entered my life. Growing up in the 1960s and 70s, cricket carried a kind of passion that was almost magical. There was no internet, no YouTube, no social media, just one local TV channel with limited coverage, and to follow the game we relied on anecdotes, newspapers, magazines, and radio commentary. In that world, King Cricket, Sir Garry's autobiography, was one of the very first cricket books I bought and read. I read it many times, almost like a story. It made me imagine what cricket and life were like in the Caribbean, in Jamaica, in Barbados. And it introduced me to what I came to understand was the greatest cricketer who ever lived.
Alongside Sir Garry in those pages was another West Indian legend I admired enormously: Sir Everton Weekes, one of the legendary Three Ws alongside Sir Frank Worrell and Sir Clyde Walcott. To me, these men were almost mythical figures. Heroes who existed in stories, books, newspapers, and grainy television replays. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would actually meet any of them one day.
Fast forward many decades. It's 2003. I'm the CFO of the ICC, the International Cricket Council, and it's the Cricket World Cup in South Africa. After watching the semi-final between India and Kenya in Durban, my colleague Warren Deutrom and I were flying back to Johannesburg for the World Cup final. Warren was the ICC's head of events at the time, responsible for delivering the entire tournament, which is an enormous undertaking. We were checking in at Durban Airport when Warren suddenly pointed across the terminal and said, "Look, look over there." I looked. Then he said, "That's Garry Sobers and Everton Weekes."
I froze.
For a brief moment, I was simply that little boy again, the one who had read King Cricket many times, the one who had watched grainy black and white TV highlights of these two great West Indian cricketers.
Warren introduced me to both of them. They were smiling, warm, friendly, and very, very nice. I was trying my best to be professional. But inside, I honestly was an excited schoolboy.
We all went upstairs to the departure lounge and ended up having breakfast together before boarding our flight. Even now, I can still remember sitting there thinking: Is this really happening? Am I dreaming? Am I actually having breakfast with Sir Gary Sobers and Sir Everton Weekes? And bringing Sir Everton his orange juice? Sometimes our lives produce strange, unplanned, totally unscripted moments that seem unreal. For me, this was one of them.
On the flight from Durban to Johannesburg, Warren was seated somewhere else. And I found myself sitting directly in front of Sir Garry and Sir Everton. It wasn't a long flight, but throughout most of it I was turned around on my knees on my seat, chatting with them about cricket and life. A conversation with no agenda, with two of the greatest cricketers who ever lived.
A chat with no agenda on a flight with two of the greatest cricketers who ever lived.
By the way, I also asked Sir Gary one question that had been burning in my mind since I was a boy. He answered. But that's a story for another episode.
When we landed in Johannesburg, Sir Garry invited Warren and me to travel with them to the hotel. We said yes immediately. South African Cricket had arranged a security detail and a police escort for them, given who they were. So there we were, travelling in a police van through Johannesburg. That was another experience entirely.
We arrived at the Palazzo Hotel. Our rooms weren't ready, so we spent more time together in the hotel lounge. Over the next two to three days before the World Cup final, I met Sir Garry several times. Most conversations were simply about cricket. Others involved ICC matters I was handling on his behalf in my capacity as CFO.
But after meeting him, what struck me most wasn't his greatness as a cricketer. It was his warmth, his humility, his willingness to spend time with me. There was absolutely no hurry or arrogance, just kindness and a wonderful sense of humor.
No hurry, no arrogance. Just kindness and a wonderful sense of humor.
Qualities that our world seems to have completely lost today.
After the World Cup final, I met Sir Garry one last time, after which we all left South Africa. The memory of those few days has stayed with me ever since.
When someone like Sir Garry passes away, history mostly remembers the stats: the centuries, the wickets, the catches, the trophies. And of course those records are what made Sir Garry who he was. Cricket's highest individual honour, the Sir Garfield Sobers Trophy for the ICC Men's Cricketer of the Year, is named after him, and quite rightly so. He is simply the greatest all-rounder cricket has ever seen, and there will never be another like him.
But for me personally, the memory that comes back is of that little boy reading King Cricket. The little boy meeting his childhood hero. That little boy having breakfast with his hero in Durban. That short flight filled with conversation. A police escort through Johannesburg. Time spent together at the Palazzo Hotel.
"Above all, I remember a great man whose humility matched his greatness."
Sir Gary, thank you for everything you gave to the game of cricket. And thank you for giving one cricket-loving boy memories that he will treasure for the rest of his life. May you rest in eternal peace.
