The anecdotes, the humour, the memories, the heroes and the issues aired here are those of a disparate group of people united by a single thread; a love of cricket. For some, it is a lifetime’s passion of an exceptional and ever-lasting intensity. For others, it is a calmer and more passive affection, but one that is an important part of life, even when pads and gloves gather dust in a corner cupboard. It is a love that glues ears to Test Match Special, eyes to television sets, bums to seats near the boundary and, increasingly, surfers to cricket websites. It is the eccentric and magnetic allure of cricket.
I sat bolt upright in bed one morning – a major achievement in itself! It was three o’clock and I was suddenly wide awake. The previous evening I had finished reading an absorbing book of interviews by Gyles Brandreth, called Brief Encounters. He had talked to royalty, politicians, actors and many more. The result was a book that I had enjoyed enormously.
As well, and as usual, that day I had been watching cricket, reading about cricket and thinking about cricket. The wonderful game has been a part of my life since the day I was born. Our house in Sussex, opposite Henfield cricket ground, was situated at deep midwicket to a right-hander when the bowling was from the village end. It was so close that a six once bounced down the hallway and landed in the dog-bowl, near the kitchen back door!
I played the game moderately well in itinerant fashion for a number of teams who seemed to be moderately happy to have me on board. These included Henfield, of course, Blackstone, Brighton Banks, Shoreham, Hove Aldrington, various Westminster and NatWest Bank XIs, and even Sussex, in occasional benefit or social matches. My medium paced trundlers, even though despatched from a good height, generally caused little alarm or despondency amongst opposition batsmen, although there was one long and weary season when 100 wickets were taken in what seemed like as many matches. I was no all-rounder, failing ever to reach the 50 mark with the bat, albeit on one occasion I had made 42 off 14 deliveries (with the aid of two dropped catches while still on nought!) when my heartless captain decided to declare!
Since the launch, in 1968, of BBC Radio Brighton, where I freelanced for a decade or more, I have from time to time commentated on and written about the game. And, when Sussex at long last became county champions in 2003, I even cried about it.
And so it came to pass that the book, and communications, and cricket came together in the early hours of that particular morning and, three sleepless but thoughtful hours later, I crawled out of bed, fortified myself with a mug of coffee, sat at my pc and started to record my initial thoughts on what has become Cricket Wonderful Cricket.
I was already aware of a number of high achievers who were simply cricket mad. Some of them even featured in Brandreth’s book. Despite forging very successful careers in their own chosen walks of life they had still had the time and energy for cricket, albeit in varied and individual ways.
I knew that I would need to find the right people to talk to and then persuade each of them to give me an hour of their time. I wanted to ‘recruit’ a diverse group of people with one common denominator – a love of the game of cricket. But, to ensure total objectivity, my self-imposed rule was to be that they had remained outside the boundary rope. In other words, they must not have played first-class cricket. That said, at least four came very close. David English had been on the ground-staff at Lord’s, Michael Parkinson had Yorkshire trials, Ian MacLaurin had opted for a business career rather than a Kent contract and Christopher Martin-Jenkins played for Surrey 2nd XI.
Through various involvements with such distinguished organisations as the BBC, MCC, Sussex County Cricket Club, NatWest, Inchcape and, more recently and very importantly, The Lord’s Taverners, I had met an array of candidates who met my criteria. So the initial recruitment exercise was not too challenging. Nevertheless, I was delighted when, in quick succession, John Alderton, Barry Norman, Chris Tarrant, Victor Blank and Richard Stilgoe came on board. They made the next stages far easier than might otherwise have been the case.
Although there were several other prospects with whom I was acquainted, if only fleetingly, it was getting closer to cold call time. It meant approaches to agents and managers, personal assistants and secretaries. Some of these intermediary filters were brilliant, some obstructive, some simply didn’t respond. Nevertheless, the internet was ‘Googled’, letters were dispatched, phone numbers were dialled, and emails ‘pinged’. A series of postal strikes was not helpful. Nor was the banking crisis, which cost me one of my prime targets. And there was a grim time when I felt that I had hit a brick wall. I was close to calling a halt to the whole silly enterprise but was persuaded to keep going. Then the tide turned, with the emergence of more candidates bringing a new surge of energy and confidence.
At this point I ought to mention briefly that, about three months before my 3am bedroom ‘road to Damascus moment,’ I had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. There are, of course, worse things that can happen but it’s not a massive amount of fun, particularly on the bad days. But I sometimes surprise myself with what I can still do, aided and abetted by a steady intake of pills and potions. And the occasional glass of red wine! Other sufferers have achieved far more than me but I hope that this book, apart from modestly helping a wonderful charity, will also, at least to some small degree, inspire fellow Parkinsonians to keep on keeping on.
Having said that, this would seem a good stage at which to mention briefly The Lord’s Taverners, the official charity for recreational cricket and one that I have been pleased to be quite heavily involved with since the mid-nineties. Its focus is very much on helping disadvantaged and disabled young people, through cricket and a wide range of other sports, including rugby, football, tennis and basketball. For example, the charity manages and supports youth cricket competitions and programmes, donates cricket equipment and puts on the road, at the rate of about one every week, the familiar green, specially-adapted minibuses, which give young people vital transportation and access to sport and recreation. For more information, visit www.lordstaverners.org. It is The Lord’s Taverners who will receive every penny of any profits that I make from Cricket Wonderful Cricket.
Now, where was I? Oh yes, recruitment! Some of the responses were instant, others took an age. One approach, through an agent, I had virtually written off as it seemed to be going nowhere. Then, one Friday, the target himself emailed me, suggesting that we meet three days later! It was also encouraging that only one person, once committed, had to withdraw, although a few dates changed – and one major difficulty was never satisfactorily resolved.
The interviewing process was, almost without exception, pure unadulterated pleasure. To have the opportunity to relive so many matches, and summers, the triumphs and occasional disasters, to hear amazing anecdotes and share in so much laughter. All of my interviewees, if that is what I should call them, have been more than generous with their time, their memories, their favourites and their opinions. We have talked in palaces and offices, in clubs and homes, in bars and hotels, in cricket grounds and restaurants. I have been given some wonderful contributions by this special group of cricket fans. I cannot thank them enough.
When I set out to write this book, I hoped that those I spoke to would have a tale or two to tell and that they would not all sing the same song, but offer some variety, some different perspectives. At no stage was I disappointed. Surprised? Yes. Disappointed? Never! Indeed, as I have said, the only obvious common denominator has been a deep-seated love of the game. Other than that, what emerged was a patchwork quilt of anecdotes and achievements, favourites and failures.
In more than twenty-four hours of cricketing conversations, I learned how Hitler put an early end to a budding Yorkshire career, met a man who created his own cricket ground, enthralled to hear about a team called Dusty Fleming’s International Hair Stylists, shuddered at the thought of watching cricket while sitting next to Robert Mugabe, thrilled at the re-living of both the only televised hat-trick at the Oval, and an innings of 1, 792 not out, and much, much more.
Most of the twenty people that I spoke to will not, I am sure, object to being described as “mature”, so it is not surprising that they tend to talk about cricketers from a bygone age rather than those currently active in the first-class game. The names of Bradman, Hutton, Compton, Laker and Miller roll off many a tongue, but I hear little of players from today’s games, which was something of a surprise. Apart from Ponting, that is. He and another Australian, Warne, have a select group of admirers; as have England’s Gower and Botham.
‘Too much cricket’, both at international and domestic level, is a frequent cry, and it was to be expected that the word ‘corruption’ would be on a lot of lips following the spot-fixing incidents that surfaced while the book was being compiled. Slow over rates are a major irritant, while the use of technology on umpiring decisions has mixed reviews.
I have decided to include a glossary of nearly 200 players whose names appear in these pages. For serious students of the game this section may well be irrelevant but, for others, a potted guide, particularly to those lesser known cricketers such as Showkat Baksh, or that fine fast bowler Charles Jesse Kortright, may be of some interest. These pen pictures are not meant to be comprehensive, comparable or complete. Merely compact and comprehensible!
But now it is time to say thank you. Along the way, I have been aided, enabled, supported, encouraged, advised and counselled by a wonderful group of people. In particular, Ian MacLaurin, David English, Alan Davies, David Tossell, Rachael Heyhoe Flint and Matthew Patten opened doors to people who might otherwise have been difficult to reach. John Alderton opened the batting for me in more ways than one, so as to make what followed easier than it might otherwise have been.
Tim Dickson, Ian Griffiths and Ged Duncan generously offered their collective publishing, writing, editing and, in the first two instances certainly, drinking skills when they were most needed. Mike Gatting, J K Lever and Clive Radley talked to me freely from ‘the other side of the ropes.’ Over a splendid lunch at The Forge in London’s Covent Garden, that talented actor Struan Rodger introduced me to John Blake and, by dessert, I had a publisher. And, had it not been for a very special lady, Paula Goldstein, I would not have read Brief Encounters and this book probably would not have happened.
The many wonderful people who have helped me so much in making contact and appointments include Sarah Dalkin, Feona McEwan, Caroline McCrink, Adrian Mundin, Anne Stenson, Eileen Heinink, Marina Purser, Teresa Rudge, Vanessa Burgess, David Lazenby, Samuel Turnbull and Susan Willer.
I thank my publisher, John Blake, for having the faith and wisdom(!) to invest; my editor Joel Simons, for getting me up to speed and staying the course; and Liz Mallett and the rest of the team at Blake Publishing. Emma Lewendon, Shona Langridge and the other special people at The Lord’s Taverners, as always, provided the perfect cocktail of energy, enthusiasm, expertise and experience.
Writing a foreword at a distance of more than 10, 500 miles in the middle of an Ashes series was never going to be easy. But somehowTony Greig, as good mates do, sat in Sydney and came up with the goods.
And now a hat-trick of people who deserve a special mention.
Mary MacLennan transcribed impeccably every interview, coping with noises off including an over-enthusiastic pianist, ladies that lunch and chattering children, along the way. She produced from my digital recordings more than 175, 000 words and for those many hours of work she resolutely refused to take one penny. Mary, you have always been and always will be, a star.
Before sending each chapter to the publishers I felt that I needed someone to cast an expert professional eye over what I had produced. A former City Editor of The Times and a friend for more than thirty years, Mike Tate has given freely of his time, experience and his abundant skills in far more detail than I had ever expected in filling that role. A great man to have on your side.
Some things are best said privately. And have been, I hope. So I will just put it like this. I simply couldn’t have produced this book without my wife, Helen. She has kept me going, lifted me up, calmed me down, even sometimes put my socks on and pandered to me every single inch of the way. No Helen, no Cricket Wonderful Cricket. It really is as simple as that.
My heartfelt thanks to all of these remarkable people who have supported and helped me in so many different ways. And also to those that I may inadvertently have forgotten to mention.
The later stages of this book were completed against the background of the record breaking Ashes series in Australia. England’s triumph, the quality of their cricket, so many outstanding performances and the final outcome were magnificent. And demonstrated emphatically that cricket is undoubtedly a wonderful game.
I hope you will enjoy reading this book as much as I have enjoyed producing it. And that the Lord’s Taverners will be able to do just a smidgeon more for those with special needs as a result.
JD
London, January, 2011