Sadly Tony Greig had been doing his homework on what had happened to the West Indies over the winter. ‘Sadly’ for two reasons. First, his analysis led him to make a most unfortunate public pronouncement. Second, perhaps because his research had overlooked the disgraceful scenes in Jamaica, he failed to foresee the possible consequences which this pronouncement might have.
Being interviewed by the media, he correctly identified that the West Indies team and its performance had recently been volatile, not least in the recent series in Australia, and that when they were good they were very good, but when they were down ‘they grovel’. ‘I intend to make them grovel’, he finished. Inspirational words, perhaps, but there was always the danger that it would be the West Indian team, and their many supporters in England, whom they would inspire the most, as indeed would prove to be the case. By the end of the summer, they had even become the subject of a reggae song in the pop charts.
In the heightened racial tensions in Britain at the time, which would see riots in Brixton in 1980 and Toxteth in 1981, leading to the Scarman Enquiry, it was perhaps not the wisest language for a blond-haired white South African to use in respect of a black West Indian cricket team. However Greig had intended the words (and he had surely uttered them innocently and spontaneously), the West Indians certainly saw them as an affront, an affront which they were determined to avenge.
The West Indies touring party of 1976 included three genuinely quick bowlers: Roberts, Daniel and Holding, plus another, Julien, who could still produce a quick bouncer when he needed to. The veteran Vanburn Holder could provide the West Indian equivalent of Max Walker if called upon. It was not long before they were in action.
The traditional MCC match against the tourists saw a side packed with batting and captained by Richard Gilliatt. Dennis Amiss was recalled to try to reclaim his place in England’s opening partnership. In the continued absence of Boycott, it was widely felt that he now possessed the best technique of any English batsman. Mike Brearley was chosen as his opening partner and the match also featured a young Derek Randall.
When it came time for the MCC to bat, Amiss soon misjudged the length of a ball from Holding, largely because of the extreme pace at which it was delivered, and ducked into it. Again, it was a miracle that cricket did not witness its first fatality. Bleeding profusely from behind his ear, and with blood running all over his cricket whites, Amiss was helped, semiconscious, from the field. Richard Gilliatt was so appalled at the sight that he sent in a bowler, Phil Carrick of Yorkshire, to protect the remaining batsmen. Perhaps he thought that the West Indies would be chivalrous enough not to bowl short at him. They weren’t, but he did manage to hang on for a while with Brearley. Later his only real memory would be of Brearley greeting him on his arrival at the wicket, Amiss’s blood clearly visible on the grass, with the immortal line from Beyond The Fringe, ‘the time has come, Perkins, for a useless sacrifice’.
John Woodcock wrote in The Times: ‘bouncers, and the terror that springs from them, must be kept in check … [Amiss’s injury] was another reminder to the umpires that the first-class game … will soon have a death on its hands.’117
Amiss’s injury was a massive blow, practically as well as psychologically: practically because England had been hoping he might fill one of the opening berths; psychologically because he was thought to have a sound technique against fast bowling.
With Amiss out of the reckoning for the foreseeable future, Brearley was preferred as Edrich’s opening partner, thus gaining his first cap. The last ever selection by England of someone who had played as an amateur under the old system was one of two notable aspects of the team selection. The other, though it had been widely trailed in the press and by Greig himself, was the recall of Brian Close.
The West Indies themselves were flabbergasted. They had been sceptical whether even Edrich would be chosen, at the age of 39. Now here was an England team featuring a 45-year-old who had last played Test cricket nine years previously. The press, predictably, loved it. It was a hugely romantic decision, redolent of Close striding down the wicket to Hall and Griffith back in 1963, and taking a battering on the body for his pains. Romantic, yes, but would it work?
West Indies meantime had selection problems of their own when Michael Holding went down with suspected glandular fever and had to be hospitalised. This scuppered Lloyd’s plan to play four fast bowlers but he decided to stick as closely to it as he could, preferring Holder to a spinner.
When West Indies won the toss and batted, Greig chose to set fairly defensive fields from the start in an effort to slow West Indies’ scoring rate. These tactics were partially successful, but could not stop Viv Richards from scoring 232, and his team 494. The introduction of Underwood was strangely delayed until quite late in the innings, but he made an immediate impact, taking four wickets, including the vital ones of Richards, Kallicharran and Lloyd.
When England began their reply on the Saturday they quickly lost Brearley for a duck, but Steele and Edrich then spent nearly three hours together in bringing up 98. Steele would go on to a hugely popular century, well supported by Woolmer, as England scored 332. Brian Close survived just three overs.
West Indies then blazed a whirlwind 176-5, Richards again leading the way to set England a target of 339, but with time having been lost through rain and bad light there were now only about two sessions to go; the old stagers Edrich and Close safely batted out the draw, Close batting for over three hours and seeming to vindicate his selection.
For the second Test at Lord’s, England lost a key player, while West Indies gained one and lost one. John Edrich, who had batted for almost eight hours in the first match, pulled a muscle and was replaced by Barry Wood. Michael Holding returned from glandular fever, but Viv Richards, his tour room-mate, succumbed to it. Such was West Indies’ confidence in their batting that they replaced him with a specialist spinner, Raphick Jumadeen. England also altered the balance of their team, bringing in a spinner (Pocock) for a seamer (Hendrick).
England batted first and lost two quick wickets: Wood and Steele. This time it was Brearley and Close who dug in against the West Indian bowlers. Each would bat for almost three and a half hours, Close being struck repeatedly on the body, but after they departed only Woolmer seemed to be able to resist. England finished on precisely 250.
The fabled West Indies batting machine for once failed to work properly. Despite good knocks from Greenidge and Lloyd, the rest collapsed tamely against superb bowling by Snow and Underwood, resulting in an unexpected first innings lead for England of 68.
In their second innings England were again indebted to Close, and this time to Steele, who resumed normal service with 64, ground out over four and a half hours. Their total of 254 set West Indies 323 to win. Incidentally, during the England innings Clive Lloyd showed another facet of the ‘four fast bowler’ approach which would be cynically exploited over the coming years: the ability to slow the over-rate down to about twelve an hour. Of course Cowdrey had employed similar tactics back in 1968, so England were hardly in a position to criticise.
West Indies seemed unable to decide whether to go for the runs or not, alternately attacking and defending. In the end, the match finished with the whole England team gathered round the bat, still needing four wickets to win. Close warned Steele to be ready to catch a rebound off his head at short leg, but sadly for this narrative no such trademark Close dismissal was to occur.
A flurry of illness and injuries before the Old Trafford Test match would see Brian Close and John Edrich opening the batting for England, and Hendrick and debutant Mike Selvey the bowling. Frank Hayes came into the side to bat down the order. Richards came back for West Indies, but Lloyd used the absence of Holder through illness to keep a spinner, Padmore this time, in the side.
Even at the time, asking Close to open seemed a strange and unfair thing to do. He had never been a regular opener, having done so only occasionally as a stand-in. As if that was not bad enough, there was general agreement that the Old Trafford square was a mess (a fact which Lancashire vehemently and angrily denied) and the pitch not fit for Test cricket.
Mike Selvey, on debut, exploited the seam movement and variable bounce in the pitch to take four wickets, and West Indies were at one time 26-4 before a good stand between Greenidge, who scored a superb century, and Collis King pulled them around. Even so, they could manage only 211. England were then summarily dispatched for 71 by a combination of bouncers and yorkers. Particularly dangerous deliveries were bowled at Pocock and Underwood, balls which would only a few years previously have been received with outrage, but now seemed to be accepted with resignation by the batsmen, and ignored by the umpires.
Gordon Greenidge now made his second century of the match, signalling his belated arrival as one of the game’s great opening batsmen. Some years later he would win a game single-handedly on this same ground with a double century on the last day, coming to it with a six. This time too, the crowd were treated to a real spectacle, with Richards also batting imperiously for a century at the other end.
The 552 which England were set to win, with over two days to go, was academic. However, what the crowd and the watching television viewers were now to witness over the remaining hour and 20 minutes of the day’s play would shame the game of cricket, and the reputation of Clive Lloyd and the West Indian team, for ever. Pat ‘Percy’ Pocock, who was playing in the match, describes the events of that evening session as ‘the most appalling and unforgivable that ever I saw in all my years in firstclass cricket.’118
Making no attempt at all to bowl at the stumps, Holding, Daniel and Roberts directed ball after ball at the batsmen’s bodies. In good light and on a sound pitch it would have been disgraceful, unsporting, and against the laws of cricket. In poor light, and on a treacherous pitch, it was vicious, premeditated violence. Being outside the laws of cricket it was also illegal, and had either Close or Edrich been killed then a prosecution for manslaughter could well have been brought against captain and bowler.
As for the captain, he stood impassively at slip while Close and Edrich ducked, weaved and were hit, Close repeatedly. One ball seemed to most observers obviously to break a rib, and set Close shaking involuntarily before, squaring his jaw, he took guard again. Mike Selvey remembers:
‘These two old boys, England’s oldest opening pair, refusing to get out. I can’t speak too highly of Closey that night … what we saw then was an extremely brave man. He went up massively in my esteem, as did John Edrich.’119
As for the umpires, they delivered just one official warning, to Holding, who showed his contempt for it by immediately bowling another short-pitched delivery which hit Close in the ribs again. He then stalked back past the umpire (Bill Alley), as if daring him to do anything about it; he didn’t, of course.
Ironically, the Australian Alley had in his time himself been a fearless player of fast bowling, despite having been hit on the head while batting, an injury which forced him to retire from his (undefeated) career as a middleweight boxer after 28 fights as he was unable to get his medical certificate renewed. Sadly, on this evening his courage failed him. This was doubly unfortunate since the other umpire, Lloyd Budd, was standing in his first Test, and looking to Alley to give him a lead.
An excuse proffered on behalf of the umpires, both that evening and generally during the dark ages, is that they were reluctant to intervene because they feared they would not be supported by the authorities if they did so. This may well have been founded in truth.
ICC proved over the years completely unable to do anything about the situation because the West Indies and their allies simply voted down any proposals to clarify the laws on intimidatory bowling. One is forced to wonder, though, why the MCC did nothing. Then, as now, they were responsible for the laws of cricket, and could quite simply have introduced specific wording to deal with this unacceptable behaviour. Similarly, one wonders why the TCCB did not simply cancel the rest of the series and state that they would not play the West Indies again, either at home or abroad, unless and until they agreed to toe the line. West Indian cricket was at that time almost totally dependent financially on tours of England to fill their coffers, and could not long have withstood such a tactic, particularly if other countries (India?) had joined England in a more general boycott.
Even if true, however, such an argument does not exonerate the umpires, no matter how much one might sympathise with their plight. As Simon Wiesenthal said, in order for evil to flourish, all that is necessary is for good men to do nothing. Pocock says simply that it was ‘the biggest umpiring disgrace I have ever seen’.120
As for the captain, it is difficult to find words to describe his behaviour. To wish to win by playing the game hard but fairly is one thing. To place the wish to win above respect for both the spirit and the laws of the game is quite another. For the record, Lloyd would later say (1) that it was for the umpires, not the captain, to intervene if they felt the bowling was against the rules and (2) that it was England’s fault in picking old men that Close and Edrich were hit so often. If that sounds both callous and cynical, it is because it is. Let us remind ourselves of what Christopher Martin-Jenkins had written the previous year:
Cricket should be played not at the discretion of the umpires, but of the players. This has always been one of the great hallmarks of cricket, indeed the one characteristic which sets the game apart from others. It should be played toughly but fairly, and the tradition of cricket, its spirit, ought to indicate to players what is fair without their having to be told by the umpires.121
Many watching this cricketing GBH were shocked, appalled and sickened. Several journalists wrote of the obvious danger of someone being killed if such behaviour was allowed to continue. It would be comforting to be able to record that even at this late juncture the cricketing authorities stepped in to put an end to this madness. Comforting, but false. The MCC, the TCCB, and the ICC, it seemed, were prepared to see someone get killed rather than rock the political boat. Clive Lloyd had put the establishment to the test and found it wanting. That he should subsequently have become an international match referee brings to mind the explanation by Tom Lehrer that he gave up writing satirical songs after Henry Kissinger won the Nobel Peace Prize because he felt that satire had nothing left to say.
In fairness to the TCCB, they did take resolute action. They fined Tony Greig for suggesting to the press that the pitch was sub-standard. Those who have read this far will perhaps no longer find it surprising that under the warped moral code of the English cricket establishment they should punish someone for telling the truth, but not for breaking the laws of cricket. Perhaps Close and Edrich were doubly fortunate not to have been more seriously injured; if they had been, they might have been fined for time-wasting.
Though the result of the game now seemed academic, as it had to Bishen Bedi in Jamaica, one should report for completeness that, predictably, England fell a long way short of their target the next day, blown away by Andy Roberts. Brian Close would bat for nearly three hours in total in making 20, savouring his last Test innings to the full, though clearly restricted in his movements. He had refused to go to hospital overnight with his broken ribs, preferring whisky and strapping.
In contrast to the pitch at Old Trafford, the last two Tests took place on good batting surfaces. For Headingley, England tried their fourth opening partnership in four Tests (the Oval would make it five out of five), promoting Steele and Woolmer, awarding first caps to Peter Willey and Chris Balderstone (a First Division footballer), and recalling Frank Hayes; Edrich, Close and Gooch missed out.
Neither Edrich nor Close would ever play Test cricket again. Edrich has a fair claim to be reckoned one of England’s best opening batsmen, with a Test average of 43.54 and a triple century to his credit. Close’s contribution to the game has already been acknowledged. For anyone who saw it, the image of them ducking, weaving and being hit on that infamous evening at Old Trafford will surely live in the memory, like a scene from some black and white film in which the middle-aged sergeant and the reprobate released from the guardroom bravely sacrifice themselves holding the pass against a rampaging enemy, so that the young lads in their platoon can make good their escape. Fittingly, but ironically since they were now both discarded, Edrich and Close would finish the series in first and second place respectively in the batting averages.122
At close of play on the first day at Headingley, the good news for England was that West Indies had lost nine wickets. The bad news was that they had made 437 runs at over five an over, both Greenidge and Fredericks making big-hitting centuries. Only one result now seemed possible, though England recovered well, making 387 with centuries from Greig and Knott, and Bob Willis then taking five wickets to bowl West Indies out in their second innings for 196. A target of 260, though modest, proved beyond them, as they were bowled out by the West Indies pace quartet. Tony Greig was once again the hero for England, with 76 not out.
At the Oval England brought back Dennis Amiss to form their fifth opening partnership of the summer with Bob Woolmer, thus ending the Test career of Frank Hayes, the golden-haired wonderkid who had burst onto the scene with a century on debut, but then made less than 140 runs in his other 16 Test innings.
In fact, no less than seven English cricketers would play their last Test in this series: Balderstone, Close, Edrich, Hayes, Snow, Steele, and Ward.
Amiss made a triumphant return at the Oval, but joined that select band of batsmen who have made a double century but still ended up on the losing side, a feat emulated by Paul Collingwood at Adelaide in 2006, though Brian Lara, as so often, tops the list, scoring both a double century and a century at Colombo in 2001 but still losing to Sri Lanka.
The reasons here were twofold. First a majestic 291 by Viv Richards, one of the great all-time Test innings. Then hostility and persistence combined by Michael Holding gave him fourteen wickets in the match on a lifeless wicket, one of the great all-time bowling performances. Greig, when he was bowled by a Holding yorker in the second innings, having lasted just four deliveries, gave a mock grovel to the largely West Indian crowd, underlining that, for him at least, his remark had never been intended that seriously.
The featherbed wicket at the Oval, produced partly by one of the longest heatwaves in British history, had drawn the sting of the West Indian attack. Forced to bowl conventionally, Holding had done so and underlined the fact that he was one of the best fast bowlers ever to play the game. Yet this should not obscure the fact that this series marked a dramatic turning point in the game of cricket, demonstrating two things in particular.
It demonstrated beyond all doubt that within the last few years a new breed of captain and fast bowler were prepared deliberately (or at least recklessly) to inflict serious injury on batsmen, and dare the authorities to do something about it. Unfortunately it also demonstrated beyond all doubt that the authorities were either unwilling or unable to rise to the challenge. Knowing, or at least suspecting this, the umpires did nothing.
In the case of the ICC, international consensus proved impossible. With only six members (until the admission of Sri Lanka in 1981) after the expulsion of South Africa, West Indies only ever needed to get two other members to vote with them to create deadlock. In any event Australia, to whom England had traditionally looked for support, were not keen on seeing the activities of Lillee and Thomson, their most potent weapons, curbed.
The case of the TCCB is more difficult to understand. They could simply have refused to play any more Tests against West Indies, at least in the absence of playing conditions which clearly defined intimidatory bowling, and enforced a minimum number of overs a day, backed up, say, by a penalty of five runs for every over remaining unbowled at close of play.
Whatever the reason for their inaction, there could no longer be any doubt that cricket had now been fully exposed to the modern era, and brutalised in the process. Once again, however, trouble was brewing on the other side of the world which would shortly present the cricketing establishment with perhaps its greatest challenge ever; a challenge which, perhaps predictably, it would comprehensively mishandle.