By Sam Sooppersaud
Milton Pydana, the Berbice, Guyana, and West Indies wicketkeeper/batsman, passed away quietly on Sunday, April 15, 2025, at his home in Brooklyn, New York. In his final moments, he was surrounded by his beloved wife, Kamla, his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, his siblings, and a few friends. He was not only a cricketer but also an excellent football player — a goalkeeper. He was 75 years, 2 months, and 18 days old at the time of his passing.
A memorial service celebrating his life was held on Monday, May 5th, at the Restoration Temple A.O.G., located at 4610 Church Avenue, Brooklyn, N.Y. Hundreds of friends, cricket fans, and his large family showed up to pay their last respects to a man who touched their lives in so many ways. Among the attendees were several of his teammates who played alongside him in the Berbice and Guyana cricket squads. Several past players who played with or against him in club cricket also showed up to say goodbye to a comrade and friend. Numerous electronic messages from other cricket celebrities were played or read, all expressing condolences and extolling the virtues of a man who was not only a sportsman but also a remarkable human being.
During the ceremony, a group of his past Guyana teammates took the stage and soberly spoke of their relationship with Pye, as he was fondly known. They shared many great memories — moments of joy they had together. They described him as a likable, humorous, and caring person.
An electronic message sent by renowned West Indian and international cricket journalist and commentator Joseph “Reds” Perreira was played over the sound system. He spoke of Pye’s humility, graciousness, and humor. He also shared an incident from a tour to India with the West Indies under the captaincy of Clive Lloyd. Clive, known to enjoy a steaming cup of tea during games, had arranged for a flask of hot tea to be delivered to the visitors’ dressing room. When the flask arrived, Clive was not in the room. It was left on a table. Pye, upon learning that the tea was for Clive Lloyd, opened the flask and poured all the tea down the sink. When Clive returned and saw the empty flask, he asked what had happened. The players told him that Pye had poured it out. Clive asked Pye why. Pye replied, “Why he bring tea for you alone? Because you making all the runs?” Clive responded, “Yes, I am making all the runs, and I am the captain too.” To which Pye replied, “Captain, hey, then tell them bring tea for you after the game.” Everyone, including Clive Lloyd, had a bellyful of laughter. Such was Milton Pydana — the live wire in the dressing room who kept everyone in high spirits.
During the 1960s, I was a member of the British Guiana Police Force. Around 1963 or 1964 — I can’t remember exactly — I met Milton for the very first time. I was stationed at the Central Police Station in New Amsterdam and played cricket for the Berbice Police team in the Davson Competition, the Berbice First Division tournament. I was the team’s wicketkeeper and opening batsman.
The cricket authorities were sponsoring school cricket — both high school and elementary. I would often watch the youngsters play. One afternoon I went to the Mental Hospital Cricket Ground in Fort Canje to watch an elementary school game between Scott School and a school from Stanleytown.
Stanleytown was batting when I arrived. I noticed this kid behind the wicket doing wonders. He was sharp, vibrant, and stylish — especially the way he passed the ball to the slips after collecting it. I was impressed, being a wicketkeeper myself.
It was a strange game, unbelievable considering the scores. Stanleytown scored 104 or 106 runs; their captain made a century — I think his name was Latif or Haniff. Scott School went in to bat. The same lanky wicketkeeper opened. When the winning run was scored, the kid was 102 not out. Sounds unbelievable — but it happened. I was there. After the game, I met the kid. His name was Milton Primo.
Over time, I would see him visiting the Communication Workshop in the Central Police Station compound. The technician, Constable Daniel, was either his uncle or stepfather. Milton would visit him, and I got to know the kid well. He was always respectful — “Morning, Officer,” “Good afternoon, Officer.” Pleasant and well-mannered. As I got to know him better, I started attending more of his school games.
As I mentioned, I practiced with players from the Mental Hospital cricket team. Names I recall include Minty, Evans, Hamil Murray, Victor Harnanan, Lakraj Harry, Plummer, and Johnson (Johnno). I invited Milton to join practice. He came a few times, then became a regular. He would always put on the wicketkeeping pads and gloves and go behind the stumps — he loved keeping. He was always the last to bat, but we gave him his full quota of deliveries. He was a natural stroke player.
We’d talk about wicketkeeping techniques — where to stand for pace or spin bowling, for left- or right-handed batsmen, glove positioning, and more. Milton listened and applied what we discussed. His skills improved quickly. Older players noticed and often complimented him. He didn’t neglect his batting either — fluent and natural. I often looked at him and saw greatness in the making. He was committed to getting better with each practice. Decades later, I was proud to learn that he had made it to the big leagues — representing both Guyana and the West Indies.
Around 1966, I was transferred from Central to Albion Police Station and lost regular contact with Milton. I still traveled to games wherever the Berbice Police team played. One game was at Rose Hall, Corentyne, a club run by the Abdool brothers, Aziz and Jameer. Milton was playing for them, of course as the wicketkeeper.
Police batted first; I opened. I was known to be a tough wicket to get. Aziz Abdool, a left-arm slow bowler, tossed up a delivery. I prodded forward but missed. I shuffled back to regain my ground and heard the stumps rattle. Milton had collected the ball and broken the stumps in a flash. “How’s dat?” came the shout. The umpire was unmoved. After consultation and checking boot marks, the decision was not clear. Milton whispered that my foot got in late — he had broken the stumps before I regained ground. I asked if he was sure. He said yes. I told him he had done well. He replied that I had taught him. I walked. That was Milton — honest, respectful of the game, a true sportsman.
I migrated to the U.S. in 1969 and continued playing cricket. One day, I ran into Milton in New York. He had also migrated and was either playing or coaching a Brooklyn team against Melbourne Cricket Club at Baisley Pond Park in Queens. It was a joyful reunion. We reminisced. I told him how proud I was when he made the West Indies team.
Over a decade ago, the Indo-Caribbean Federation (ICF) honored Milton with a plaque for his service to cricket and community. During the halftime ceremony, John Aaron, the MC, and Ralph Tamesh, the ICF president, praised his accomplishments. When Milton took the mic, he looked in my direction and said, “I see my coach, Soop, here.” He briefly spoke of how much I had helped him. I felt pride — not for myself, but for him. I had never thought of myself as his coach — we learned from each other. That’s who Milton was: gracious and honorable.
Why am I writing this article? At the memorial, many spoke of his achievements, the “end product.” But no one mentioned the ingredients — the dedication, hard work, and effort he put in during the early days. Everyone spoke of “the man in the boy.” No one spoke of “the boy in the man.” I spoke at the service, but I was only given two minutes. I didn’t get to share what really mattered — the story of his early journey. So, here it is, folks — the essence of Milton Primo (Pydana) and his sacrifice to achieve greatness.
Milton was born on January 27, 1950, in Smithfield, on the outskirts of New Amsterdam, Berbice. From a young age, he loved cricket. He played endlessly — at Scott School, at Vryman’s Ervin, at Cow Dam, Vryhead, and Bourda Ground. He was always carrying a bat — first a board or coconut branch bat, then a canebat as he grew older.
It was no surprise he rose to the highest level. He captained Berbice in Inter-County tournaments. He represented Guyana in First-Class cricket for 17 years. He was part of the Guyana team that won the Shell Shield in 1973 and 1975. In 1985, he captained Guyana to the Geddes Grant/Harrison Line Championship. He played three One-Day Internationals for the West Indies.
In 2024, Milton and former Guyana players toured Guyana on a goodwill mission. He was honored by President Dr. Mohamed Irfaan Ali for his contributions to cricket and Guyanese culture. As his obituary noted: “Throughout his life, Milton’s achievements were celebrated by cricket authorities, government officials, and dignitaries who recognized his significant impact on the sport.” After retirement, he gave back — as a coach and mentor.
Milton Pydana’s body will be flown to Guyana, where he will be interred in Georgetown on Monday, May 12, 2025.
May he rest in peace.
