Fourth
Test
Having been the first captain ever to make a declaration in a Test match (Lord’s, 1893), Stoddart now became the first England skipper to put the other side in to bat upon winning the toss. And for a while the move seemed highly successful, for his bowlers took full advantage of the conditions wrought by the rain.
England were again unchanged, but Australia dropped Worrall, Harry and, despite his Adelaide runs and wickets, Callaway. In came the classy left-hander Harry Moses and the dashing little Victorian, Harry Graham, and Charlie Turner, back to full health and just the man to make full use of the rain-affected pitch.
The seas pounding the rocks around Sydney had been the roughest for 40 years, and the wild weather pattern rendered Stoddart’s decision—his first of the series—horribly difficult. So he took his left-armers, Peel and Briggs, out to the middle with him, perhaps to feel again the exhilaration of that fairytale victory six weeks earlier before asking them if bowling first was the wiser course.
Peel’s first ball cut a chunk out of the damp pitch and caused Harry Trott’s jaw to drop. Nothing but trouble could lie ahead. After making a run, he was caught at point off Peel, and when Richardson launched his attack, the ball reared at Brace’s head after jagging back at him. His response was to pull and hook, and Stoddart kept adding to the leg-side field until Brockwell caught him off Peel near the fence. At 26, Peel surprised Giffen with that most unlikely of deliveries, a straight one, which bowled him, and Moses, at least as uncomfortable in these nightmare conditions as any of the others, was bowled off his pad by a full-length ball from Richardson.
The stylish Sydney pavilion gazes down upon the
fourth contest of the 1894–95 series, with Australia fighting
hard to regain equal status.
The fifth wicket almost doubled the score, to 51, as Graham fearlessly, madly went down the pitch to the rampaging Richardson and hoisted him straight almost over the pickets. And as the Surrey man put even more into his shoulder action, getting the ball to buck savagely, the boyish Graham got out of danger by sinking swiftly to his knees, the crowd gasping.
When Briggs came on, he hit Graham’s pads seemingly right in front, but the calm Phillips rejected the appeal. However, Gregory, maker of a double-century in the last Test here, skipped out to the same bowler, missed, and did not even both trying to get back as Philipson removed the bails: 51 for 5.
The former Australian Test captain HJH ‘Tup’ Scott was not the only one to have travelled a long way to see the match and to see the high-scoring Frank Iredale in particular. For them the disappointment of his first-ball dismissal now was crushing. He gently pushed a catch back to Briggs: 51 for 6, with two wickets having fallen while only a bye was added since lunch. So much for the theory that the sun was drying and easing the wicket.
Joe Darling joined Harry Graham, a good man to have at No. 8 in such a crisis. Stoddart’s decision to put Australia in was vindicated already. But his fielders were to let him down.
Darling sought runs off Peel before turning his attention to Briggs, whom he hit high over the heads of the crowd into the tennis courts. ‘What can you do when they just chuck one at you?’ he explained later.
Graham continued to grab every run he could, but should have been caught by Brockwell at slip off Richardson when 37, a straightforward chance which tilted the innings. Darling, too, escaped when MacLaren’s throw to Philipson was fumbled with the batsman short of his ground, and again when MacLaren dropped him. These English errors mattered less, for Richardson accounted for Darling at 31, though not in a way that pleased him. Overstretching himself in his attempt to bowl a yorker, he flung down a beamer, and Darling’s frantic stab at it merely deflected the ball into his stumps: 119 for 7, the stand worth 68 in only 40 minutes.
In came the hero of Adelaide, Albert Trott, only to take a fast one from Richardson that laid him out for a minute or two, a number of Englishmen gathering round solicitously, some rubbing the point of impact. When the young Victorian eventually resumed, he looked very determined.
Graham had raced to a 65-minute half-century and then had another close shave, mishitting Briggs high into the sky. The bowler failed to hold the catch as it plummeted earthwards, and one of the earliest instances of ‘sledging’ was then recorded by The Australasian: ‘Johnny was either annoyed with himself or with the batsman’s luck, and delivered a short lecturette on the total ignorance of Australians of the art of batting, but a reminder from the tactful Stoddart sent him to his bowling again.’
When Ford was tried, Graham twice beautifully square-drove him to the fence, and Trott pulled him to the same joyous spectators. By tea they had lifted the total to 192 for 7, Graham 87, Trott 40, and England revealing a touch of desperation, Brockwell having just spilled a caught-and-bowled from Graham.
Local delight contrasted with the earlier depression when Australia were more than half out for 51. Now, a youngster leaned over the pickets and bellowed out a strange challenge to any of the Englishmen of £100 to nothing that Harry Graham would make more off his own bat than their whole team.
It hardly helped England that they were carrying a passenger in Bill Lockwood, who had got into further trouble, this time not of his own doing, when a soda-water bottle held by Peel had exploded, cutting Lockwood’s left hand. It was hoped that the wound would heal as the match progressed, but it worsened, and a doctor had to open it up again. His bowling was limited to the final phase, and he was not fit to bat when the time came.
Graham and Trott took Australia to 200, prompting happy strangers in the crowd to shake hands with each other, and as the reformed pitch drew the sting of the bowling, Richardson actually had to protect the straight boundaries either side. The duel had been won, and memorable it had been.
Graham reached his century with a hit to the square-leg fence off Peel, his 14th four, in only 140 minutes, bringing him immortality as the only batsman—in the first 100 years and more of England v Australia Test cricket—to score a century in his first Test innings in both countries. For those who saw either or both performances, it was far more than a statistical achievement. What thrilled was the manner of the making of those runs.
He was out soon after, charging at Briggs and being stumped by a long way. The prayed-for breakthrough, after all those gallant hits and scrambled singles, had come. Eight runs later, Jarvis was caught behind, giving Johnny Briggs his 100th Test wicket. The fun-loving epileptic was the first bowler to reach this mark, but it was a far less statistics-conscious age.
All that could be said by England for the 10th-wicket stand which followed was that at least it was not as large as the two in Adelaide (81 and 64). But the 45 put on by Trott, who was loving Test cricket, and Turner, who was one of the best No. 11s ever to bat for Australia, did little to restore sinking English spirits. Would young Trott get his hundred this time? Turner tried hard to see him to it, but himself was caught at mid-off off Lockwood. Australia had hauled themselves up to 284, and AE Trott’s unbeaten 85 (105 minutes) gave him 195 runs now in Test cricket without dismissal. This time he had added more cuts and leg placements to his basic firm-footed driving, and unless an outstretched MacLaren hand running round the boundary counted as a miss, the innings was chanceless.
England had to survive 10 minutes that evening against Harry Trott’s legspin and Turner’s offcutters. MacLaren, by little more than an inch, was stumped off Trott almost immediately. There were screeches when Briggs seemed to be out too, but he was merely teasing, the ‘catch’ having come off his body. Eleven for one wicket; England had everything to pray for; the 8000-odd wended their way happily home.
It rained and rained, and people sat around mournfully, though the Englishmen seemed content that the downpour was heavy enough to spare them from having to slither about out there against Turner, Giffen and company. Play was called off around 4 pm, and the hardy 4000 were given passout tickets for Monday.
Sunday was fine, and had there been play England might have had reasonable conditions at their disposal. But Monday brought a return to rain, borne in on a stiff southwesterly, and when play was possible, batting hardly was.
Seventeen English wickets fell that day. It would almost certainly have been 19 had Lockwood been fit to bat. Around 16,000 people saw the visitors committed to nothing short of torture as they went to the wicket and saw all normal understanding of bat-versus-ball obliterated by the soft pitch. Giffen took eight wickets, Turner seven, and Harry Trott added two to his overnight one. His brother did not even get on, just when his best Test figures of 8 for 43 less than three weeks before might have been shattered.
Stoddart made no secret of his expectations. England, he said, would be bowled out twice that day on that mudheap. He was right, with over an hour to spare.
Everyone expected Giffen to start with Albert Trott, but it was Trott snr who spun his legbreaks, with Turner at the other end, often beating the bat but kicking the ball well over the bails. It was as if the ball was being jerked on the end of a piece of string.
Ward went first, caught low down by Turner the bowler, and after much patting of the pitch and nimble attempts to counter the ball, Briggs swung, missed and was bowled by Harry Trott, who next spun one out of Stoddart’s reach, but not wicketkeeper Jarvis’s. The stumping of the captain, who had more marks on his shirt-front than on his bat, made it 31 for 4. Turner had three short legs for Brockwell, and when he switched to around the wicket, the batsman played firmly to midwicket, only to see Darling’s hand thrust up for the catch: 40 for 5.
The fair-minded romantics now felt that justice would be done if the pitch eased, for Australia’s early agony had been dispelled by better batting conditions, of which Graham, Darling and Albert Trott had taken massive advantage. Such was not England’s fate. The ball went on leaping impossibly, no less when Giffen gave himself a bowl as Ford came in. He licked his fingertips, ran in easily, and spun one across the left-hander, who played to leg but was caught at point.
The only Australian error of the day came when Giffen missed a return catch from Brown. Peel was smartly stumped by Jarvis for his third successive Test duck, and at lunch England, half-drowned, were 59 for 7, Brown 20, Philipson 0.
Philipson resumed with a four off Giffen, who then had him caught at midwicket and held a low left-handed return catch in his followthrough to get Richardson and close the innings for 65. The pitch was rolled and rendered a little less spiteful, and England went in again. This time, Turner and Giffen completed the job.
Brown opened with Ward and was bowled fourth ball, yorked as he aimed a big drive at Giffen. Stoddart desperately lofted Turner towards the ladies’ stand and was caught without scoring, and when Bruce stuck up a hand to arrest a crisp hit by MacLaren, England were 5 for three wickets, all those dismissed being scoreless.
Stoddart’s spirits were low. ‘It’s the worst wicket I’ve ever seen,’ he was heard to say, ‘absolutely the worst; and not only is it the worst I’ve seen,’ he added, in case anyone should have been left in any doubt, ‘but it’s miles the worst!’
With Philipson, Ford and Major Wardill he had driven to Coogee on the rest day, to the Australians’ camp, but he must now nave felt little like fraternising.
Ward realised that his usual caution would be misplaced, so he hit out—and Darling ran in, steadied himself and held the catch: 12 for 4. Peel was then stumped again, getting his second ‘pair’ running in some style: 14 for 5. Ford and Brockwell found the boundary, but it was merely to reduce the degree of humiliation. Life had to be short. Brockwell got hold of a ball from Turner, but Bruce held the catch to give CTB Turner his 100th Test wicket, though very little fuss was made about it.
Bruce now fielded in close as Giffen bowled to Briggs, and a mighty swipe was parried by the Victorian left-hander, the catch gently held on the rebound: 47 for 7. Next, Ford hit Giffen straight back only to see Darling pocket another neat catch. With one wicket to fall—Lockwood again out of action, his arm in a sling—a macabre day’s cricket neared its close with the square-leg umpire taking a whack on the side of the head from Richardson’s leg-side heave during a ninth-wicket stand of 20 which was the highest in either England innings. It was a matter of euthanasia when Philipson drove back to Turner and the final score was 72, giving Australia victory by an innings and 147 runs, their heaviest to date. Turner gave the ball to Giffen, who presented it to a lady in the reserve.
The Australians were greeted warmly in the pavilion, and the Sydney Morning Herald shrewdly observed that ‘they were no longer Victorians or South Australians or New South Welshmen, they were all Australians, and all jolly good fellows.’
Throughout the carnage, Jarvis had coped well enough to allow only 12 byes and to complete four stumpings as the ball hopped and buzzed and skidded. It was remarked that England’s bowling lacked variety in that it was either fast right-arm or slow left-arm. Turner and Giffen, more potently, brought the ball back at the batsman.
Australia’s bowlers had unquestionably done all that was expected of them as the series was levelled. But victory would not necessarily have been theirs had not Harry Graham carved out his wonderful century. ‘Game as a pebble’, he was said to have found everything in Sydney agreeable except the passionfruit. Among the gifts heaped upon him were four pipes, three hats, a box of cigars, orders for three suits, and a new bat.
Ecstatic he may have been, but the Englishmen were slightly wary of the large crowd of spectators who still waited by the exit long after play had ended. Billy Brockwell, top-scorer in the final innings with a mere 17, and whose home was The Oval, eyed the gathering with a certain suspicion, and wrote: ‘It is a demonstrative, ribald crowd that, especially the boy section of it, has so much to say in a way that is personal that even a big man like Lyons won’t face it alone.’
Victoria’s ‘little dasher’ Harry Graham, who hit a stirring
hundred at Sydney in his first home Test and helped
Australia level the series.
The tables turned: after Turner and Giffen had wrought
havoc, England have been thrashed in the fourth Test, reversing
the amazing outcome of the opening Test of the series at
the SCG.
And a sense of humour was also called for in the face of some of the mail received. Drewy Stoddart received a letter the next day, in a neat hand, which read: ‘One Australian and two Yorkshire lassies wish to express their deepest sympathy with Messrs Stoddart & Co at their misfortune in only making five duck eggs, & send the enclosed to make the half dozen. Having staked their “little all” on the event & lost, they cannot afford to have it gilded, but trust that after the Melbourne event you will be able to put it in a golden case.’
In their anguish, the girls got one simple thing wrong: there were not five English ducks in their sad innings of 65 and 72. There were six.
The evils of the Sydeney pitch are examined at close quarters
minutes after the fourth Test had ended.
Sydney Cricket Ground, February 1, 2 (no play), 4, 1895
Toss: England
Debuts: None
12th Men: CE McLeod (Aust) and LH Gay (Eng)
Umpires: C Bannerman and J Phillips
Attendances: 8277, no play (4158), 15,953. Total: 24,230 (excluding second day) Receipts: £1178
Close of play: 1st day Eng 1-11 (Ward 5, Briggs 4); 2nd day no play.
AUSTRALIA WON BY INNINGS AND 147 RUNS
