Second
Test
Rain again. Would the second Test, at Melbourne, start on time? At least, there had not been enough ‘liquid sunshine’ to lay the dust which rose irritatingly in clouds from the road between the Jolimont gate and the grandstand and were borne by the north-westerly breeze into the members’ reserve and grandstand enclosure.
The pitch, despite some tarpaulin covering, had absorbed a lot of rain. But it was deemed playable, the only cause of delay at the start being the Australians’ last-minute huddle to choose a captain, Blackham, old and injured, having played his final Test. The matter ought to have been dealt with hours earlier, but such was the casual nature of procedure. As it was, George Giffen was elected, proposed by his only serious rival, Harry Trott.
AE Stoddart, meanwhile, had been seen in the pavilion, prowling around anxiously, and then out in the middle, pressing his hand into the pitch and leaving a damp imprint. When Giffen finally emerged from the Australian ‘boudoir’, asking ‘Where’s Stoddy?’, the English captain was occupying a quiet spot, where Giffen found him. ‘Let’s look at that pitch, Stoddy, before we toss.’
It was said that you could tell batsmen from bowlers by the looks on their faces: ghoulish anticipation from the latter, apprehension from the former. The more thoughtful pundits were not so certain about bowling first, for difficult though the pitch might be after the rain, it might get even worse as it became used, even allowing for a rolling between innings. Tension was higher than usual.
Giffen examined the surface very closely and thought and thought, while Stoddart stood by, hands behind back. Then the coin went up, glittering in the sunlight, and Australia had the choice. Giffen strode off to confer with Trott and Bruce, who went to inspect a pitch that bore all the mystery of an unidentified reptile. It was eventually decided that England should be put in.
There were four changes among Australia’s personnel. Blackham’s place behind the stumps was taken by ‘Affie’ Jarvis, from South Australia; Reedman, Jones and McLeod were omitted; Hugh Trumble was available on his home ground; Billy Bruce, the slender left-hander, came in; and Arthur Coningham became the first Queensland player to be chosen for Australia. In the England ranks, with so little room for manoeuvre (they had only 13 on tour), Gay’s wretched display behind the stumps let in Stoddart’s great friend Hylton Philipson.
Also omitted was Humphreys, the father figure, who had wielded the carving knife across the roast beef at the team’s Christmas dinner, the cricketers having strolled through Sydney’s harbourside Botanical Gardens, as pleasing a place as any to pass Christmas Day, before the outing to Randwick Races on Boxing Day. Now it was down to business again, on a Melbourne Cricket Ground whose capacity and profile were similar to Sydney’s. The pavilion, built in 1881 and extended in 1886, was a solid-looking two-storey construction, with an open seating terrace on the roof. Next to it was a long, imposing grandstand, with flags flying from its rounded rooftop, but no further structures of any substance disturbed the wide walkway and benches, fringed by elms and other trees, for almost 270 degrees. This took in ‘The Pit’, where the chatter was animated and often humorous, and a scoreboard slightly more informative than the one at Sydney. Then, beyond a high railing barrier, a wooden telegraph booth was alongside the ladies’ stand, separated by yet another shady tree. The Southern Stand, with its vulgar Bay 13 contingent, and its successor, the Great Southern Stand, built at a cost of $145-million in time for the 1992 World Cup, were way in the future, as was just about every other feature of today’s MCG. Here was the ground at its charming late-Victorian best.
The pitch was rolled after the toss, and soon Giffen was leading out the Australians, garbed in the dark blue colours of Victoria, cap and sash. The crowd was building up fast to an eventual 14,000, the seating area all spoken for some time before the delayed start.
Australia’s supporters were well satisfied by the lunch interval, when England were 44 for the loss of five; and yet more euphoric when the last wicket fell at 75. Giffen, exploding the conviction that he was the most selfish of bowlers, denied himself a bowl in these favourable conditions. He used only Coningham, Turner and Trumble, and they did the job in 40 overs and one ball.
Arthur Coningham, the left-armer, ran in and bowled the first ball, which reared at MacLaren, who nudged up a catch to point, thus providing the first instance in the 43 Tests played until then of a wicket falling to the first ball of a Test. ‘Conny’ also became the first bowler to strike with his maiden delivery in Test cricket. He showed understandable pleasure, though it was later noted that he had ‘lost much of his eccentric mannerism’. Melbourne was his native town, though he was now a Queenslander.
Stoddart joined Ward, and they watched the ball closely as it capered about off the soft turf. Having got the gist of things, Stoddart then began to hit over the top—until one from Turner crept through, under the England captain’s pull stroke: 19 for 2. The ‘Terror’ had just hit him above the elbow, forcing an involuntary yell which was heard all round the MCG.
Brown was caught at slip by Trumble off Turner without scoring, and Brockwell also got a duck, hitting Coningham out to Iredale: 26 for 4. Only Albert Ward seemed to have any sort of chance of a longish life out there. His touch was clever, his nerve cool. ‘Felix’ (Horan) wrote: ‘It is not easy, through the cold medium of print, to give you an adequate or just idea of the masterful manner in which he negotiated high balls, breakbacks, low balls, balls that talk to you, balls that won’t say anything to you, etc. Suffice it to say that at luncheon time, when he fell caught by Darling at third man off Hugh Trumble, he had made 30 out of 44 for 5 wickets. As Stoddart made 10 of the 44 you won’t take long to make out what the remaining three made, especially when I tell you that there were four sundries.’
The only known action shot of Charlie Turner, ‘The Terror’,
whose skills were repeatedly of value to Australia—not least in
the second Test—until his shock omission on the eve of the
climactic Test.
Tom Richardson, England’s titanic fast bowler, who
destroyed Australia’s first innings at Melbourne, and went on
to bag 32 wickets in the series.
One policeman stood watch beside the pitch during the gossipy lunch-break, as if the pitch were a piece of criminal evidence.
Peel, 0 not out after 20 minutes, hit Turner through the air for four but was then caught at slip; Ford, having cut Turner to the fence, was caught high at slip off the lanky Trumble the ball after being let off by Trott, a sharp chance at point. Briggs cut his first ball for four, was aghast when the umpire signalled leg-byes from what he felt was a touch, saw Trumble spoil a difficult caught-and-bowled chance, and was then caught on the leg side off Turner. Philipson was quickly held in the deep, as was Richardson, for the fourth duck of the innings, leaving Lockwood, who had used his pads liberally, 3 not out. England 75 all out in just under two hours, Turner 5 for 32, Trumble 3 for 15, Coningham 2 for 17. Now it was Australia’s turn. Giffen ordered the heavy roller.
The pitch was easing but still much favoured bowlers, and when Australia’s first three batsmen were out for 15, it began to look like a struggle for first-innings advantage, and a shortish sort of match. Richardson bowled Lyons with a fast offcutter; Bruce, missed by Brockwell at slip off Richardson, top-edged Peel to slip; and Gregory, fresh from his double-century at Sydney, made only 2 before slicing Richardson to third man.
Giffen and Darling, who each made 32, added 38 brave runs for the fourth wicket in 30 minutes, left-hander Darling hitting Lockwood over the pickets for a five before the Surrey paceman yorked him with his cunning slow ball: 53 for 4.
With Iredale as his companion, Giffen eased Australia past England’s 75 with a series of firm drives, before Richardson hit him painfully on the knee, and then bowled Iredale. Giffen went soon afterwards, neatly caught by keeper Philipson down the leg side off Briggs, and it was 86 for 6. The captain’s exemplary innings had lasted 95 minutes and was chanceless.
Coningham tried dashing out at Richardson’s sharp pace and somehow gathered 10 before, with the 100 safely posted, he nicked the fast bowler to Philipson, standing no more than 10 yards back, the ball being slowed by the soft pitch. Richardson took his fifth wicket by bowling Trumble. Trott (16 in 52 minutes) now got himself run out against Jarvis’s call, Peel at mid-off tossing the ball back to the bowler. And with the total 123, 48 ahead of England, the last wicket fell, ending the 2½-hour innings. Australians generally felt disappointment, for conditions were not so bad now. Care such as Giffen and Trott had displayed might have reduced the damage, and after the Sunday of rest, the pitch may well have rolled out firm and true and allowed Australia to build up a match-winning total. Instead, after the sensational first couple of hours on this opening day, the match was on a fairly even keel, thanks as much as anything to Tom Richardson’s sustained effort. His whole manner reminded ‘Felix’ of Spofforth; there could be no greater compliment.
New Year’s Eve dawned grey and cool but brightened significantly. By prior arrangement, the pitch had been mowed and rolled and the outfield cut, and it was soon clear that batsmen need have no worries about the pitch. It was almost as if another Test match were starting.
MacLaren and Ward faced Coningham and Giffen, and the runs came. Turner knocked MacLaren’s off stump out with his second ball, with 24 scored; but the solid Ward was joined by an unusually determined and cautious Stoddart, who broke from his watchfulness once in a while to punish anything off-line. With the arrears wiped off Stoddart indulged himself in a huge on-drive off the threatening Turner, the ball bouncing onto the asphalt in front of the pavilion. A fielder was immediately sent out to long-on.
By lunch, England were 78 for 1, and everyone knew they meant business, especially Charlie Turner, whose fastish offbreaks had been well-directed. Resuming, England moved to 101 before Ward was unexpectedly out, bowled off his pads by Turner for 41. Brown replaced him, ‘a sound batsman without polish, and good in most strokes, except hard, straight-ahead hits’ according to ‘Felix’.
Drewy Stoddart, however, was the centre of attraction. MacLaren best illustrated his aura that day: ‘It was one of those days when he convinced you from the commencement of his innings that nothing could get past his bat, that there was no ball that could not be hit to the exact spot he selected.’
He slowed down in the seventies, but for all the mixed skills of Turner and Trumble, Giffen and Coningham, and Trott’s legbreaks, he remained in charge, an undemonstrative, easy-moving, athletic figure. Brown helped him add 90 in only 65 minutes before left-armer Bruce had the Yorkshireman caught behind. At tea Stoddart was 95.
The century came, his second against Australia, with a legside boundary off Australia’s greatest bowler, Turner. It had taken him 170 minutes—slow by his standards—but was, by his own declaration, ‘the century of my career’. And he made a few. ‘Nothing I have ever done in cricket,’ he later stated, ‘gives me the same lasting pleasure to look back on as that innings’, which he explained away merrily on another occasion by saying, ‘I had to buck up for England, home and beauty.’
He was not finished yet by a long way. Brockwell, who sometimes looked ‘more the soldier than batsman’ at the crease, though he reminded some Australians of Murdoch, kept Stoddart good company, making two runs to his one in a fourth-wicket stand of 31. The Surrey man was starting to look confident, tugging at his cap. It was a relief to Australia when he chopped Turner into his stumps.
Stoddart went into his shell for the remaining time, and Peel knew that any rashness on his part would deeply disappoint his skipper. They played out time for a reasonably secure 287 for 4, Stoddart 151, Peel 18 in 78 watchful minutes. It would have been a lot more had not Harry Trott been almost impassable at point to Stoddart’s crisp square-cuts. All the Australians had fielded well, apart from the carthorse Lyons and the over-excitable Coningham.
The New Year’s Day holiday found over 20,000 people packing the MCG to see if Giffen and his men could hold onto this Test and avoid going two down. The crush at Richmond railway station an hour before the start was memorable, and the hordes who stepped through Yarra Park found it no easy job to weave their way across the Jolimont approach, packed solid with horse-drawn cabs. Flemington Races may have been a serious counter-attraction, but most of the world wanted to be part of the England v Australia Test match.
In the first 50 minutes only 33 runs were added against probing bowling. It was extremely serious stuff, with Giffen and Turner straining for the breakthrough.
It came without warning. Stoddart had unwrapped a couple of boundary shots and seemed in line to make a double-century when Giffen’s faster ball found the stumps via an edge: 320 for 5, England 272 ahead, Stoddart 173, compiled in five hours 20 minutes, with 14 fours and one five, plus two other fives, all-run. He gave no distinct chance, and seemed as fresh as when he started as he returned to the deep chorus of admiration from all round the ground and disappeared into the shadows of the pavilion. It was England’s highest innings against Australia, beating WG Grace’s 170 at The Oval in 1886, and was to remain the highest by an England captain in a Test in Australia from the inception of Test cricket in 1877 until almost 100 years later, when Mike Denness scored 188 on this same ground in 1975.
Peel and Ford took the score to 350 for 5 at the luncheon adjournment but afterwards the Middlesex man—‘Six-foot-two of don’t care’—was caught by Trott at point, and the crowd licked its lips when Briggs skipped out to the middle. His antics never failed to amuse. At 383 he lost Peel, who was stumped off Giffen for a 2¼-hour 53 which contained not one boundary, one of his most valuable Test contributions. Briggs continued to ride his luck. Iredale got his left hand to one chance, and Gregory, deep at square leg, fluffed another. Giffen, though, fired a full-toss through Briggs’s crossbat to get him lbw just after the 400 had been raised. The end was in sight.
Or was it? Australia—without Turner, who had ricked his back—had to bowl away while an infuriating 53 runs came from the ninth-wicket partnership of Lockwood and Philipson. Giffen, moving towards the end of a marathon effort of 470 balls, missed a whistling return catch from Lockwood, but from 0 for 100 he finished with 6 for 155, trimming Philipson’s bails and having Richardson caught by Gregory near the fence after misjudging the flight of the catch and holding the rebound from his left hand. England 475 all out (all 11 batsmen reaching double figures—for the first time in a Test), 400 more than their first innings; Australia 428 for a series-levelling victory. When Bruce and Trott took everything that came their way in the remaining 78 minutes, making 43 each, Australia were looking at a target of 342 with a fresh start tomorrow. It was looking like another classic.
On the Wednesday the score rose to 98, when Billy Bruce (54) had the misfortune to stub his bat into the turf as he drove at Peel, and Stoddart took the catch at mid-off. The prematurely grey Giffen, his 78.2 overs pushed into memory already, now planned a long, long innings, and at lunch he was well satisfied with 149 on the board, nine wickets in hand, Trott 63 and perhaps less hungry for having swallowed a fly on this stifling hot day, Giffen 28 and looking ominously secure.
The total grew: 186 for 1, almost halfway, and the pitch still playing well. Then Stoddart called Brockwell into the attack, and the Surrey allrounder swung the match with three quick wickets: Giffen, playing to leg, spooned a catch to cover; Trott, five short of his century, cracked one back at the bowler, who swooped to hold the catch; and Darling failed to handle one which pitched in line with his leg stump and hit the off. Now it was 214 for 4, and soon 216 for 5 as Richardson broke through Gregory’s defences. The ground had gone quiet. Australia’s dream seemed shattered.
From 231 for 5 at the 4 o’clock interval, Lyons, his entry delayed to No. 7 at his own request, pushed the total to 241 before thin-edging a typically robust hit against Peel into his stumps. Richardson bowled Jarvis and Coningham was bowled by Peel. Trumble was run out to a close decision which would have warranted a video replay a century later. And one wicket was left, Turner having joined Iredale, who was batting as soundly as his English counterpart Ward had done. Turner was almost bowled first ball, but serious frustration for England now followed.
Iredale and Turner stopped the flow of spectators from the ground as the clock-hands ticked from 5 pm towards the closure at 6. They dealt with anything the Englishmen could bowl at them, and so het-up did the volatile Lockwood become at one point that when he fielded and threw, and the ball struck Turner’s bat, he appealed for ‘Obstructing the field’. Umpire Jim Phillips dealt with the matter firmly enough by stating that ‘over’ had been called, but Turner was not amused at the aspersion on his sportsmanship.
The 10th-wicket pair were still together at the close—328 for 9, 100 still needed for victory—Iredale 63, Turner (whose career included two first-class centuries) 26. Their defiance almost deserved a week of non-stop rain.
About 1500 people turned up, free of charge (takings of almost £3000 had put the anxious Melbourne Cricket Club finances on a relieved footing), to see what Iredale and Turner could make of the desperate position, and after an over from Richardson from the pavilion end, Peel’s first ball was straight, characteristically on a length, and kept low enough to breach the tall Iredale’s defence. Stoddart had certainly addressed his bowler—this time not so hungover as at Sydney—‘with the little touch of humour which would put Bobby into the frame of mind’.
England thus won by 94 runs, Stoddart having gained, in the words of the Pall Mall Gazette, honours not so much international as immortal. His innings of 173 remains one of the best in Anglo-Australian combat, but his stewardship of his players was also a crucial factor. One of them, Brockwell, was presented with the ball with which he had that decisive spell of 3 for 9—Trott, Giffen and Darling. In response to someone’s loud urging during the presentation lunch in the MCG pavilion, the chairman tossed the ball to Brockwell, who caught it smoothly with one hand. Everything was going England’s way. It will never be known whether George Giffen, in his speech of response, truly believed it when he said that the Australians could still produce a superior team.
As at Sydney, had the outcome of the toss mattered? Perhaps it was as well that Stoddart had lost again, initially disappointing the two Anglo-Indian girls who had sent him—or delivered—a lucky token in Sydney on Christmas Day, hoping he would win the toss in the next Test.
A long way removed from the MCG scoreboard of today, the
telegraph of 1894–95 shows the sorry tale for Australia at the
end of the second Test.
Melbourne Cricket Ground, December 29, 31, 1894, January 1, 2, 3, 1895
Toss: Australia
Debuts: Australia—A Coningham
12th Men: J Harry (Aust). No 12th named for Eng
Umpires: T Flynn and J Phillips
Attendances: 14,000, 15,000, 21,000, 14,000, 1500. Total: About 65,000
Receipts: £2879
Close of play: 1st day Aust 123 all out; 2nd day Eng (2) 4-287 (Stoddart 151, Peel 18);
3rd clay Aust (2) 0-86 (Bruce 43, Trott 43); 4th day Aust (2) 9-328 (Iredale 63, Turner 26).
ENGLAND WON BY 94 RUNS
