No article on Paddy can be complete without a reference to his not getting to wear the India cap.
Having known the man for more than two decades, it was not Paddy who was the unfortunate one but the cricket fan who was unlucky to have missed out on Padmakar Shivalkar bowling his special brand of deliveries that spun webs around unsuspecting batsmen.
Hemant Kenkre salutes the memory of the cricket legend who passed into the ages on Monday, March 4, 2025.
If the Mumbai Cricket Association were to list an all-time Mumbai team of Most Valuable Players, Padmakar 'Paddy' Shivalkar would certainly be among the top ten.
His record as a match winner for the colossal team of the 1970s is testament to that inclusion.
27 five-wicket and 11 ten-wicket hauls, 362 wickets in a career spanning 23 years (1965-1988 in the Ranji Trophy). Woah!
Strangely, he made his first-class debut at the Brabourne stadium for the CCI President's XI against an International XI bagging 5 wickets for 129 runs.
And the batsmen he snared reads like the who's who of batting at that time: Everton Weekes, Raman Subba Row, Richie Benaud, Ian Craig and Tom Graveney.
A performance like his would have guaranteed a place in any team.
Yet, it took three more seasons to wear the Bombay cap in the national championship.
That, in short, went on to be the story of his life as a cricketer.
He once recounted the story of that match and his captain Gulabrai Ramchand's encouragement: "Ram came up to me and told me 'Pad' don't worry about the big names, you have it in you. That arose the Shivaji Park'er' in me to fight, no matter who I'm bowling to."
My earliest memory of Paddy bowling his left-arm spin was in a Police Shield match at his favourite ground in Bombay, the Islam Gymkhana.
All I can remember as an 8-year-old was he had split the webbing in his left palm and had to be taken for stiches.
Paddy by then had hard fought his way into the strong Bombay side led by Bapu Nadkarni, his rival of sorts, and was bowling alongside his skipper, off-spinner Sharad Diwadkar and his Shivaji Park Gymkhana team-mate Ramakant Desai.
It took him another season of hard toil in local cricket before establishing his presence in the champion side.
My good fortune had me sitting beside him as a player for the Tata Sports Club team which he served with distinction like he done for the Shivaji Park Gymkhana and Bombay.
I used to keep asking him questions about his experiences as a bowler and the great batsmen he had bowled to.
For him, three names always came up: Vijay Manjrekar, Sunil Gavaskar and Gundappa Viswanath.
In his book, they were three of the best batsmen he had bowled to.
Many years later, when Sachin Tendulkar was playing his last Test match at the Wankhede stadium, I was privileged to be in the company of Paddy and another legendary southpaw, Nari Contractor as part of a TV show.
It was pure delight to sit on a pitch at Shivaji Park and listen to the two greats exchanging notes and reminiscing about the past as we waited for the TV crew to show up.
They were discussing how the game had changed, from what it was during their days and the kind of shots and bowling deliveries that were being added as the game was shortening by the season.
"My biggest regret was that I never got a chance to bowl to Tendulkar," Paddy told Nari; whose reply was "You would have given him a tough time."
Paddy gave many batsmen a tough time. Once, when I had asked Viswanath what it was like when he batted against Bombay, he told me: "The first half an hour was always tough. First one had to negotiate Abdul Ismail and then Paddy."
Paddy had an easy, simple run-up and primarily used his wrist to deceive batsmen -- not so much the popping crease, the far corner from which he always bowled from.
Having kept wickets (as a part timer) to him for Tatas in the Times Shield 'A' Division, it was amazing to see how he used to hoodwink batsmen with subtle changes in flight, loop and deliver his doomsday ball -- the dangerous armer.
"I always observed the batsman's feet while bowling," he once told me.
"The way he moves gives me a fair idea about what kind of shot he would play, and I would bowl accordingly."
It was typical for Paddy to bowl two or three slightly short balls that turned away, for the batsman to square cut before trapping him like a deer in the headlights with a deadly armer.
For all of us at Tata Sports Club, Paddy was a great teammate and our go-to-guy for entertainment.
The two things that Paddy, a teetotaler, loved (apart from bowling) was singing and garam chaha (piping hot tea).
Once, when we were playing the final of the Lal Bahadur Shastri Memorial Trophy at Allahabad against a strong Delhi-based team, he requested kullhad chai during the drinks break, this at a time when the luu (hot-winds) were breaking down players.
Ditto when he and his wife visited Singapore where I was then based; we spent half the day, not sightseeing, but looking for authentic Indian chai.
No Tata Sports Club party ever ended without Paddy singing his favourite Mohammed Rafi numbers.
During the final match of the Arlem Trophy, while we on the knife's-edge, chasing a formidable total against Sungrace Mafatlal, he called me to the back of our tent dressing room and sang two versions of a song he had specially composed in honour of our host, Vijay Chowgule, to be sung at the post-event party.
That was Paddy!
No article on Paddy can be complete without the reference to dame fortune letting him down and his not getting to wear the India cap.
Having known the man for more than two decades, it was not Paddy who was the unfortunate one but the cricket fan who was unlucky to have missed out on the ever smiling Shivalkar bowling his special brand of deliveries that spun webs around unsuspecting batsmen.
Goodbye Paddy, many thanks for all that you gave us cricket lovers.
© 2025