From Saint Vincent to Showmanship: The Kesrick Williams Story
Why Kesrick Williams?
Kesrick Williams has not played any notable cricket for a while now and he doesn’t tie into any ongoing conversations around West Indies cricket. I don’t even have much of a connection to him. So why Kesrick Williams? Surely I should use my Trinidadian background to bring you stories about Pollard, Hosein, or Pooran, or talk about how Dinesh Ramdin and Shannon Gabriel are still beating up Division 2.
By almost every measure, Kesrick is not someone who warrants an article being written about him. Not right now, at least. But when I sat down and thought about it, I realised that the threads of his story were reflections of the wider West Indian context, and repeated patterns that have both built and destroyed careers. In many ways, he represents the values and identity of the entire region, values that sometimes get buried in the annals of misused statistics and pigeonholes.
I don’t intend to defend Kesrick’s record or champion him as a missed saviour of the region. Instead, I want to look at his background and see how he fits into the wider zeitgeist of Cricket West Indies.
Kesrick, if you ever read this:
Please don't start swinging a bat at my head
Feel free to get in touch. I would love to do a deeper, more personal dive into your story.
From the Streets of Saint Vincent
In an interview with CPL as part of their Player Diaries series, Kesrick opened up about his early influences. Surprisingly, he did not mention Lara or Sir Viv or Clive Lloyd, but rather, he spoke about something more personal. He spoke about growing up in Saint Vincent and looking up to his mother, who played as a wicket keeper on the first Saint Vincent women’s team. Cheering for his mother as she took wickets and lashed balls to the boundary sparked a unique maternal connection to the sport. In a sense, it was almost his birthright.
During his development as a cricketer, Williams preferred batting. But one fateful day, when he was fooling around and jokingly bowling a few balls during a practice session, a coach told him he might be onto something. That something turned into cutters, yorkers, and celebrations that would later make headlines around the world. A mistake, a joke, an experiment, turned into a career.
In a way, it’s fitting. So much Caribbean talent rises from improvisation. Whether it’s a boy turning a mango tree into a bat or a girl shadow-batting in her school uniform, the region has always made greatness out of what’s available. Kesrick is another product of that mad and beautiful process.
Kesrick’s Vincentian-ness
If you’re like me, learning that Kesrick Williams is from Saint Vincent came as a shock. Perhaps this speaks of my biases, but I had always assumed Kesrick was from Jamaica. When I first saw him, he was playing for the Jamaica Tallawahs in the Caribbean Premier League, and he had a habit of showing up on Marlon Samuels’ Instagram stories and social media posts. Learning that he was from Saint Vincent fundamentally changed the lens through which I viewed him.
Part of being a West Indian fan is taking the opportunity to learn about the region. Only through West Indies cricket would I know about things like Eggball in Guyana, Oildown from Grenada, and Bulla and Pear from Jamaica. It has also developed a deeper understanding of the people of the islands.
Kesrick Williams isn’t the only player I’ve come across who I was surprised to learn was from Saint Vincent and the Grenadines. The islands consistently churn out noteworthy players, yet it feels as though your identity almost becomes the price for that. Jomel Warrican, for example, is another phenomenal player to come from Saint Vincent, but he is now based in Barbados and plays for ‘Little England’ regionally. Obed McCoy is another example, but because of his exploits with Barbados Royals in the CPL, he has become closely associated with that island.
Saint Vincent’s cricketers often seem to vanish under the branding of the more dominant cricketing islands in the region. In a way, it mirrors how many smaller islands’ stories are swallowed up in the broader narrative of West Indies cricket. Unless you're a real regional cricket nerd, or have an uncle who spends all day watching Windward Islands highlights on YouTube, you might miss the significance of that Vincentian grind, along with the edge they bring to the game.
Maybe that's what makes Kesrick's rise feel even more unique. Not only did he fight the usual battles to prove himself, but he also had to push through the regional visibility bias. For many like Kesrick, the journey isn’t just up the ranks, it’s uphill in every direction. And to do it while maintaining the kind of charisma and personality that Kesrick brings to the field takes something special.
When you realise how much of his rise was self-made and fueled by sheer presence, it puts his celebrations, his swagger, and even his bowling into a richer context. This is not just a man trying to take wickets, it’s a man trying to make his island visible every time he steps over the boundary rope.
Celebrations That Broke the Internet
Let’s not kid ourselves, Kesrick Williams didn’t go viral because he took six-wicket hauls or bowled 90-mph thunderbolts. He became internet gold for one reason and one reason only: The Notebook. And I’m not talking about the movie your girlfriend keeps trying to get you to watch.
After dismissing a batsman (and let’s be honest, sometimes even before the ball had properly landed in the keeper’s gloves), Kesrick would whip out an imaginary notebook from his pocket and jot down the wicket. It was petty, it was theatrical, and it was absolutely unforgettable. That celebration had West Indies fans howling with laughter and opposition players doing double-takes like ‘Is this man for real?’
The invisible notebook was his signature and his calling card, just like Allen Iverson’s crossover or Usain Bolt’s lightning pose. Equal parts vibes and vengeance, it was so Caribbean in the best possible way, and became part of his mental game. He got under people’s skin with it, and for a man who didn't always bowl at express-train pace, that edge was crucial.
Of course, when you troll the cricketing gods, they sometimes tap back. And cricket god Virat Kohli absolutely tapped back. The infamous India vs. West Indies T20I in 2019 saw Kohli not just take Kesrick’s bowling apart, he turned around and imitated the notebook celebration after striking one of the most disrespectfully calm sixes you’ll ever see. That moment birthed a million memes and is now cemented in cricket banter history. It was the cricketing equivalent of the Uno reverse card.
A lot of players would’ve folded after that. Kohli mocking your signature move on live television? That’s soul-crushing. But Kesrick didn’t melt. He leaned into it. He later said in interviews that he respected Kohli for the fire and was even flattered to be mocked by the best. That response? Pure class. Not bad for a man who made his international debut at 26.
In so many ways, Williams’ notebook celebration emulated the showmanship and intimidation tactics of Clive Lloyd, Viv Richards, and even modern show-offs like DJ Bravo and Chris Gayle. It added another stone to the edifice of the on-field West Indian identity, although it’s a form of identity that I feel is at death’s door. When was the last time we saw celebrations like this on a cricket pitch? Shamar Joseph’s victory lap at the Gabba comes to mind, but that required exceptional circumstances. The CPL was once full of unique celebrations, like Bravo’s chicken dance, champion dance, and whine, but it now displays a banal collection of hops and skips whenever a wicket falls.
Chadwick Walton: Friend, Foe, and Fellow Showman
Kesrick Williams wasn’t the only entertainer in the region. Enter Chadwick Walton, a man who knew how to give as good as he got. The battles between Walton and Williams weren’t just about runs and wickets, they were about attitude, personality, and one-upmanship. Their clashes in the CPL became the stuff of legend, filled with send-offs, mimicked celebrations, and moments that had commentators howling with laughter.
Walton, a hard-hitting batsman, embodied the aggressive, free-flowing nature of Caribbean cricket, while Kesrick, with his cunning variations and celebrations, represented the art of the counterpunch. Their duels showed the best of West Indies cricket: flair, intensity, and most importantly, fun.
What made their rivalry special was that it never felt mean-spirited. It was competitive but lighthearted, built on an understanding of the entertainment factor that has always been a part of West Indies cricket. Even when Walton mimicked Kesrick’s notebook celebration after smashing him for boundaries, it wasn’t about humiliation, it was about playing the game with swagger. The crowd loved it, the commentators fed off it, and the CPL was better for it.
But beyond the theatrics, their rivalry underscored an important truth: West Indies cricket needs its showmen. The game is at its best when personalities shine through, when players aren’t just stats on a scoreboard but living, breathing embodiments of the region’s culture. In a cricketing landscape where individuality is sometimes stifled, Walton and Kesrick reminded us why the West Indies were once the heartbeat of the cricket world.
Turning Over a New Leaf
In 2024, Kesrick Williams stepped away from international cricket, and in so doing, made statements that alluded to where he was at mentally and some of the challenges he faced.
"I don’t see myself playing international cricket anymore, even if I have a chance to do so. I don’t have any more energy for politics in sports and not being comfortable around people. While I was on that team, it was like I was there but still not there. I remember the first year that I played for the West Indies. If the tour was one week away, I would start packing one week before itself. I was that happy. But then it turned so bad that even if the tour started tomorrow, I would hardly have the enthusiasm to pack a day before. So no more West Indies, I just want to play league cricket and enjoy the rest of my playing career."
In later interviews, Williams alluded to struggles with mental health and the pressures of professional cricket. He highlighted how the ups and downs of selection, the weight of expectations, and the isolation of the sport had taken a toll on him.
Honestly, it feels like his statements should have been taken more seriously in the region. They speak of a severe lack of resources and infrastructure to support athletes mentally. They speak of a lack of serious movements to destigmatise mental health and mental health counselling in the region, not just from CWI but from the culture of the land. It’s often forgotten that most of our players come from humble backgrounds and have mountains of sacrifice behind them. All of a sudden, a player may start seeing cheques with more money than they ever thought they’d have while also getting more cuss than anyone in their lineage ever thought was possible. And despite the role player managers, agents, and cricketing boards play in trying to combat this, if it gets to the stage where a player retires because of it, even partially, then clearly not enough is being done.
Kesrick’s story is a reminder of the often overlooked mental strain that athletes endure. While fans see the celebrations and the highlights, they rarely see the personal battles behind the scenes. For all of the showmanship and bravado, Kesrick Williams was a human navigating the same struggles that many others in the sport face.
His departure leaves questions about how West Indies cricket supports its players off the field. In a region where cricketing dreams are often burdened by financial and psychological struggles, Kesrick’s journey serves as a crucial point of reflection. We cannot keep saying “Depression nuh real. Duppy just take yuh.”
More Than Just a Cricketer
As Kesrick Williams quietly steps away from international cricket, his story deserves reflection, not just for his performances on the field, but for his impact off it. His legacy transcends wickets and celebrations. In a world of cricket where numbers are king, Kesrick’s identity was defined by something far more profound: personality, authenticity, and resilience.
Though his career may not be littered with iconic records or everlasting accolades, the mark Kesrick left on the sport and the West Indian cricket culture is undeniable. He was never the fastest bowler, nor the most consistent, but he carried something even more powerful: the spirit of the West Indies. In every delivery, in every celebration, and in every interaction, he embodied that infamous, unapologetic swagger that has defined West Indian cricketers for generations.
Kesrick’s mental health struggles, openly discussed in his later years, are a stark reminder of the challenges athletes face beyond the cricket field. It is easy to forget that the players who entertain us, who wear their national colours and represent their communities, are not immune to the same personal battles as the rest of us. His willingness to step away when it became too much, when he needed to prioritise his well-being above all else, serves as a powerful example of self-awareness in a space that often demands sacrifice of everything for the sake of performance.
His career, though relatively brief at the highest level, will always be remembered for the moments that captured the imagination of fans. His iconic notebook celebration, a blend of showmanship, humour, and defiance, became a symbol of the West Indian way of doing things: play hard, play with passion, and always leave a mark, no matter the odds. But more importantly, Kesrick Williams’ legacy is a cautionary tale and a call to action for those in charge of the sport. It is time for a holistic approach to player welfare, one that recognises the importance of mental health, provides resources for athletes to thrive beyond their on-field performance, and fosters an environment where players feel supported and valued.
In the end, Kesrick Williams may not have had the international career that some would have hoped for, but the courage he showed in retiring on his own terms, speaking out about his struggles, and redefining what it means to be a West Indian cricketer will be what defines him. Kesrick’s legacy extends beyond wickets, celebrations, and the boundary of the field, and I believe it will reverberate for generations to come.
Nothing encapsulates all of that more than the surprise and joy a lot of us felt when LSG’s Digvesh Rathi recreated Kesrick’s celebration in this year’s IPL against Priyansh Arya. Although the BCCI reprimanded Rathi, his actions prove the iconic notebook still has plenty of pages in it.
Thank you to Steph Jaggassar for her article you can find her on Substack - here
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 | A guest post by
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One of the reasons I enjoy following this newsletter is because there’s so little information out there about the behind-the-scenes workings of Cricket West Indies. Just like your earlier pieces, this one was an eye-opener. I still remember that epic India-WI match in 2019, when Virat absolutely smoked the shit out of Kesrick Williams (sorry if that was hurtful !) It was an incredibly satisfying feeling, especially after Williams had mocked him with that notebook celebration back in 2017 in Jamaica.
But reading this article now puts things in a very different light. It made me reflect on how difficult it must have been for someone like Williams, coming from his background and trying to make it big. I had no idea about the alleged mistreatment he faced from CWI during his time with the team. That context really shifted my perspective and thanks to you for highlighting it :)