FIVE
DAVID GOWER
‘Part of the trick is to make them feel like they are international players and not very lucky schoolboys who have inadvertently pitched up to play for England.’
Even the greatest of the greats didn’t make batting look as effortless as David Gower. Bradman was a machine, Tendulkar brilliant, but with a game that is based around compact, short-arm punch shots and wristy deflections. The left-handed contenders are headed by Garry Sobers and Brian Lara, but their Caribbean ‘flava’ was more exuberant, as if unfurling drives down the first fairway. Perhaps only Colin Cowdrey’s fabled cover drive comes close.
Gower’s batting was languid in the extreme. He appeared to have so much time it was as if he had a switch that turned down the bowler’s pace by 10 mph. In full flow, he was simply awesome to watch. He was far too polite to be contemptuous of those trying to knock his head off, but had his shots not looked so elegant and his demeanour partly apologetic, they could have been labelled disdainful.
His dismissals, however, would see him incur the wrath of many a captain and commentator, as his demise would look lazy, the poorly executed shot always bereft of any semblance of foot movement. His aloof, laid-back air made him look like someone who was not trying. Appearances can be deceptive, though; it was simply the way he played. And thankfully he never tried to change.
Gower famously pulled his first ball in Test cricket to the boundary. He kept batting simple: he saw it, then caressed it, and remained true to his principles throughout his career. But you don’t score 8,231 Test runs without having the ability to fight; the calm exterior belied an inner steel. Gower remains second on England’s all-time run-scoring list. The man ahead of him is, of course, Graham Gooch. Players of my era, who grew up on these two legends, tend to be in one camp or the other. You’re either a Roundhead or a Cavalier. Gooch could be belligerent and beat an attack into submission with his mighty cudgel of a bat, but he was also about work ethic and output. Gower was less driven by the game, an artiste whose emphasis was more on aesthetics with a touch of devil-may-care thrown in.
I confess to being firmly in the Gooch camp, perhaps because I was an opener, and perhaps also because I had a penchant for the gladiatorial side of the game rather than the beautiful. But while Gooch was my hero, I could not fail to appreciate Gower’s unique gifts. Many of the qualities that characterised his batting Gower would also bring to his captaincy. Like plenty of the captains in this book, there was an inevitability about Gower’s rise to the top of the England tree. As so often, too, his appointment would signal a huge change of direction from his predecessor. Bob Willis had led England with a lot of drive and vigour from 1982 to 1983–84, but Gower would be a different type of captain. Gower believed in giving his players freedom and responsibility rather than dictating what they must and mustn’t do.
He was against the cricketing equivalent of the Nanny State. He wanted to give players choices about their own games and include them in decisions and the overall direction of the team. He was like a left-of-centre Tory, applauding tax cuts but wanting a little bit of hippy flower-power and all-round bonhomie thrown in, too. ‘My philosophy was to give responsibility to individuals and I can remember people liked that,’ Gower said. ‘Part of the trick is to make them feel like they are international players and not very lucky schoolboys who have inadvertently pitched up to play for England, which is what happens when you have the opposite sort of system, where the management and captain tell everyone what they want you to do. That way is all controlling, unfulfilling and dangerous, especially if you have got strong-minded people with very definite ideas of how they do things.
‘I always wanted a constant exchange of views, which keeps things ticking and keeps the player thinking they have control over their own destiny. That way they have responsibility and a vested interest in what they are doing. If they rely on you totally, then they are entitled to blame you when it goes wrong. If there is very much a 50/50 split – then we are in this together and I want you to feel that you have control. So that was important to me.’
Gower had applied these methods at Leicestershire, where he inherited the captaincy from one of the great captains, Ray Illingworth. He was largely unsuccessful. The fact he was away with England for a greater portion of the time, which contributed to a lack of continuity and direction, was a major factor, but even when Gower was playing there was a feeling that he was all too keen to get off after the day’s play.
‘I could have been more engaged with people individually after hours,’ Gower said. ‘Whether it was a quick pat on the back or a 30 minute “let’s talk through this” – I wasn’t good at the added extras because as a player I didn’t want too much of that. There were times when you would like to have a reassuring word from the captain, when doubts were there, but generally as a youngster you have confidence and exuberance and, if someone tells you what to do, you think, “sod that”. But I am now a firm believer that you do have to be able to spend the time to get your message across and look after people.’
The alarm bells are already starting to ring for me as I listen to Gower’s captaincy approach. So much of what he says about giving players responsibility and empowering them to become integral decision makers in the side is enlightened thinking. The problem is that if you’re not present yourself, and not supporting players through that process, there’s potential for anarchy. Not all captains lead from the front by setting strong examples – Brearley was no action hero. But players need to know who’s in charge and that the captain is prepared to take decisive action where necessary.
Gower’s first full series in charge of England in 1984 resulted in a 5–0 defeat to the West Indies. He gambled at Lord’s in the second Test by setting the West Indies 342 in a day. It was a positive attempt to get England back in the series, but Gordon Greenidge unleashed his full repertoire of strokes in a brutal innings of 214 not out as Clive Lloyd’s team hurried to victory by nine wickets inside 67 overs. Gower was powerless to stop the onslaught, as a combination of poor bowling and naïve field settings made Greenidge’s job easier.
There was no disgrace in losing to the West Indies at that time, however, and Gower’s phlegmatic character served him well. He shrugged it off and moved on. It was only when England reached India the following winter that his inclusive methods started to bear fruit. The empowering of Mike Gatting and Graeme Fowler, both of whom had been previously guilty of under-achieving, paid huge dividends. ‘Fowler had been a fringe player,’ Gower said. ‘Most captains would try to dictate to him, tell him what to do. I wasn’t so regimental about it. I would ask him: “How do you feel, what do you want to do, do you want some nets?”’
Fowler had a fine series, the undoubted highlight being a double-hundred alongside Gatting in Madras. Gatting, who had compiled his first Test century two Tests earlier in Bombay, added 241 with Fowler for the second wicket before bringing up his career-best 207 after a couple of cheeky reverse sweeps in the 190s. Gatting put his new-found confidence and freedom to express himself on that tour down to feeling part of the England set-up under Gower, something he describes in his own chapter.
‘The fact we were touring India helped team spirit,’ Gower said. ‘It was a four month tour, where because of the nature of the country you were inevitably together much more than you would be on some tours – Australia, for example. We had good people and there was a genuine willingness to stick together. Mrs Ghandi, the Indian Prime Minister, was assassinated and then Percy Norris, the British High Commissioner, was shot dead too, so we kept tight as a unit.
‘There was no Botham, who had a back injury; no Gooch or Emburey because of the ban due to the rebel tour to South Africa, so we had a bit of new blood. If you’ve got some good blokes who are also keen to impress, that makes the job easier.’
On that tour Gower was 100 per cent there for his players. There were few social distractions, which meant more time was spent together in a group environment. The players felt included, respected and in charge of their own destinies, yet Gower was obviously the captain, pulling the strings and available to sort out potential problems. Take Phil Edmonds. ‘When we got to India, Edmonds developed this stutter in his bowling action,’ Gower said. ‘I went to speak to him in his guesthouse room and said, “Philippe, can I have a quiet word?” He replied, “David, if you are worried about my bowling action, don’t be.” And I needn’t have been. He was the focal point of whatever we did over the next four months in India to win that series. His catchphrase, wherever he was, was, “Skipper, I’m not averse to an early bowl.” He was genuinely keen. He was strong enough to bowl loads of overs and I genuinely enjoyed having him around, whereas the perception was that he was a difficult man.’
Edmonds was not everyone’s cup of tea and would have wound up those with a more regimental approach to captaincy. Gower’s England, however, welcomed an eclectic mix of characters. Edmonds, free to express himself like never before, bowled England to a rare Test series win in India. Gower’s success in India was the perfect preparation for the Ashes of 1985. A harmonious team was strengthened with the reintroduction of Gooch and Emburey, who had served their ban after the rebel tour. Australia, meanwhile, had been hit by their own defectors, with Kim Hughes leading a strong rebel side to South Africa.
It was Hughes’s successor as captain of Australia, Allan Border, who kept the visitors in the Ashes. At times he fought a lone battle with the bat and it was his 196 in the second Test at Lord’s, together with the bowling effort of the excellent Craig McDermott, that helped square the series after England had won convincingly at Headingley. Australia maintained parity until the last two Tests of the six-match series, but England played the better cricket throughout. Eventually, Gower’s team ground Australia down, winning at Edgbaston and the Oval by an innings and 118 and an innings and 94 respectively.
Watching the Ashes that summer as a young teenager, I can remember England’s batsmen gorging themselves against some ordinary bowling – Craig McDermott excepted – on some flat pitches. The top four scored eight hundreds between them, none more prolific than England’s captain, who weighed in with two centuries and a double-hundred at Edgbaston. It was Gower’s zenith as captain of England. The batsmen put runs on the board, Botham bowled quickly and the spinners had plenty of time to whittle the Australians out. Gower kept the camp relaxed, which helped down the home straight of the series. His biggest problem had been finding the right combination of seam bowlers to support Botham. The solution was found just at the right time. Richard Ellison, the Kent swing bowler, was the eighth seamer of England’s summer. He proved an inspired choice, taking ten wickets in the win in Birmingham and proving it was no fluke with seven more at the Oval.
The Edgbaston match was pivotal. Ellison, swinging the ball late and at decent pace, accounted for four of the top six before returning to finish off the tail. Australia’s total of 335 looked competitive but was shown to be well below par by Robinson, Gower and Gatting. England’s elegant captain, sandwiched between two pugnacious right-handers, looked a class apart as he dismantled Australia. Edgbaston is a fast-scoring ground, yet the ball had no right to scorch across the grass, so delicately was it persuaded. Gower nonchalantly threaded the ball through gaps all day, scoring 106 in boundaries in his total of 215. To rub salt in Australia’s wounds, Gatting, all bristling intent, muscled his way to 100 off 127 balls and Botham, given a licence to have fun by his captain and the situation, smashed his first and fourth balls from McDermott for six in a little cameo of 18 from seven balls.
Gower then quickly got Ellison into the attack. On the fourth evening, after Andrew Hilditch had hooked Botham down long-leg’s throat – not for the first time in the series – Ellison produced the bowling spell of his career. As a young Kent and England fan, it was a sight to behold as Ellison, all mane and moustache, came in imperiously off his curved run, slips stretching right around to gully waiting expectantly. Not a ball missed its mark. Wood, Wessels and Holland the nightwatchman were sent packing before the best delivery of the lot zipped through Border’s gate, trimming the off bail.
It looked like game, set and match to England, but there was a sting in the tail the following morning, as rain spattered the window panes. ‘On the final day at Birmingham, we woke up in the morning to persistent drizzle,’ Gower said. ‘Border was giggling away, which he wouldn’t have done in 1989. We managed to get out in the afternoon and, although Phillips got 59, Beefy just steamed in and finished them off.’
That, of course, wasn’t the whole story because it took a freakish piece of good fortune to get rid of the Australian wicket-keeper. Phillips had been playing the seamers particularly well, so Gower turned to Edmonds. With the clock ticking down, Phillips rocked on to the back foot to punch the left-arm spinner through the covers but only succeeded in blasting the ball against a jumping Allan Lamb’s heel. The ball ricocheted into the air for Gower to take the simplest of catches. Border was dismayed the catch stood, as he believed it all happened too quickly for the umpires to be sure about its validity, but England had thoroughly deserved their victory.
Gower still had to avoid defeat at the Oval if the Ashes were to be regained. He got off to a dream start by winning the toss and electing to bat on a fine pitch before putting on a mammoth 351 for the second wicket with Gooch. Gower continued from where he left off at Edgbaston, scoring 157 off just 216 balls, while Gooch’s contribution was 196 with 108 scored in boundaries. In their contrasting styles, they flayed an Australian attack, which for the first time all summer showed signs of wilting. ‘I think behind the scenes in Australia’s camp they were getting a bit tired by now,’ Gower said. ‘They’d kept it going pretty well, but the loss in Birmingham had taken a bit out of them. You still worry as captain, however, that if they give it that last effort and you get it wrong, you could still lose the game and lose the Ashes.’
Australia fought hard on the second day. England, jubilant at 376 for 3 at the end of day one, were bowled out for just 464, the third top score being Paul Downton’s 16. Botham ensured there was to be no Australia fight-back, however, removing both openers as Australia succumbed for 241 to give Gower the option of making Australia follow on. ‘The first day was the best possible day you can have as a captain: win the toss, get loads of runs, be in charge of the game,’ Gower said. ‘Although they came back on the second day, we were able to bowl them out, but then when you get the chance to stick them back in you’ve got people saying, “Don’t let them follow on because it’s the only way they’ll get back in the game,” and “You have only got to draw this to win the series.” It was my choice. “They will follow on, end of story,” I said. If it goes wrong, of course, I look an idiot. But I’ve never claimed to be a psychic captain. I just thought it was the right thing to do and they were, as it turned out, largely spent and we were on a roll.’
Botham took early wickets again and Ellison ripped out the middle order, including the key wicket of Border, whose 58 was the only contribution of note. England had won by an innings in consecutive matches. ‘We came back from India on a high, beat the Australians 3–1 and I got a lot of runs in the process,’ Gower said. ‘If you combine winning and performing to a high level yourself, especially against the Aussies, nothing could be better. I’d go so far as to say that I have never played as well over the course of a summer.’
Gower rightly earned huge plaudits for regaining the Ashes. His relaxed demeanour, inclusive style of man-management and tremendous form had galvanised England into an impressive-looking unit. He had created an environment in which the players felt free to be positive and stamp their mark on a game. All of his big players came to the party, none more importantly than Botham, who had always enjoyed shaping an Ashes series. Rarely required to do too much with the bat, Botham channelled his energies into his bowling.
‘The Beefy who first played international cricket was a comparatively gentle swing bowler – it was the fact that the ball swung a lot that made him interesting,’ Gower said. ‘But in that Ashes series he steamed in and bowled persistently quicker than was normally the case. We used him in short bursts and he became more of a strike-bowler – it just happened. He just fancied trying it.’
Graham Gooch concurs with Gower’s analysis, ‘Botham had the “wood” over Australia. I’d say that generally his best bowling was at the end of the 1970s and in the early 1980s, but in that Ashes series he bowled really quickly. Whenever he played against Australia, he would invariably turn it on.’
He had actually started the series bowling first change, but Botham took the new ball in the third Test at Trent Bridge. A Gower hundred had put England in a strong position, but Graeme Wood and Greg Ritchie took advantage of a placid surface to fight back hard. Gower needed to make something happen, so he turned to his talisman.
‘We just needed something to get us a wicket,’ Gower said. ‘So I brought Beefy on and he banged one in to Ritchie, who cut it to third man, where Edmonds took a brilliant diving catch. We were all really pumped up, but when everyone turned round to the umpire, Alan Whitehead had his arm out calling “no-ball”.
‘Beefy said, “I don’t bowl no balls; I have never bowled a no ball.” The game ended up being a draw, but it was a pivotal moment in the series. Beefy was a mad bull and I had to calm things down. It all ended up in an unnecessary disciplinary hearing, but that’s how he bowled for the rest of the series and it worked for us.’
Gower was happy to indulge his superstar’s desire to bowl quickly but, while it was a ploy that worked well against Australia, it backfired against the West Indies the following winter. At the end of the Ashes series a victorious Gower had predicted – tongue pushed firmly in cheek – that the West Indies would be ‘quaking in their boots’ at the prospect of playing his England side. It was not meant seriously, but for a man who was later to make a fine career in broadcasting it was a touch naïve. Tony Greig had, after all, committed the biggest faux pas ten years earlier by declaring his intention to make the West Indies ‘grovel’. The quicker Botham bowled in the Caribbean, the harder Desmond Haynes and Greenidge hit it through the covers or over mid-wicket.
‘The Caribbean tour is one of those where, if I had my time again, I’d do things differently,’ Gower said. ‘Beefy was of the mind that it worked well against Australia, so he wanted to try it again: steam in and bowl quickly. I should have realised more swiftly that we needed to rethink the plan. It was a mistake. Haynes and Greenidge were one of the finest opening partnerships of all time. They played in the Caribbean a lot; they played against pace quite a lot, and simple pace wasn’t going to work. The error was not to have worked that out quicker.’
Gower admits the tactical error, but there was also a feeling on this tour that he was too soft with his mate Botham. He allowed him attacking fields and gave him extra overs when he was being continually pummelled to all parts. Off the field, too, Botham was allowed greater freedom than some of the other players. ‘There was the thing of how do you treat people differently?’ Gower said. ‘There were a lot of players on that tour that weren’t superstars like Ian Botham and they were annoyed at his approach and annoyed that I allowed him to treat practice in a different way to them.’
Botham never shirked a bowling stint on the field, but it was difficult for his teammates to see him playing poorly and putting so little effort into training. Gower was never a believer in endless hours of practice and saw little point in enforcing them upon his best player. Unfortunately, it took him a little too long before he broached the subject of his performance. ‘Ahead of the third Test I said to him, “We’ve had our meeting, we nearly dropped you.” To be thinking about dropping Ian Botham, still very much in his prime, was a big deal. It would have left a huge hole. The whole conversation was about five minutes long. The message was: “You are not performing as you should be, I am your captain and your mate, and I am telling you now you need to sort it.” It did improve from then on, but in many ways the damage was done. The West Indies were a better side and we were still going to get trollied.’
Gower was too close to Botham and too nice to really get to grips with him. Allowing players the freedom to express themselves and treating them all differently is to be applauded, but a captain has to be prepared to toughen up as a situation dictates as ultimately his responsibility is to the team. Gower acknowledges that Brearley, one of the finest man-managers, achieved a balance between unshackling Botham and encouraging him to play his natural game, and knowing when to take a firmer hand. It was a balance he could never quite achieve.
‘Beefy was a young man when Brearley was in charge,’ Gower said. ‘He had an in-built respect for his captain. And Brearley absolutely demanded and commanded that respect anyway – absolutely no problem with that. He was a very fine captain. He did have a way with Ian; he got the best out of him. He played to that larger-than-life attitude that Ian had, which in a way ignored reality and still does. They both just understood it. There was a natural respect there that doesn’t necessarily exist when that player is ten years more senior, so I had a different relationship. At that time Beefy was the senior bowler, the senior player, the big all-rounder.’
It’s a fair point and one that Brearley himself made previously in chapter one, but as you will later read, Gatting managed the situation better in 1986–87 when he cut a deal with Botham, while also giving him more responsibility. Gower’s methods, which had worked fine in India and in the Ashes of 1985, needed a tougher edge in the Caribbean.
Gower was sacked as England captain following defeat to India in the first Test of 1986. It was his sixth straight loss and the Ashes triumph the previous year seemed like ancient history. Gower had paid the price not just for defeat but also for his flippant manner during England’s tough times. Gower would argue that there is no point walking around looking glum all the time, but he gave the media far too much ammunition with which to shoot him down. On the fourth day of the Lord’s Test, as England were getting humbled by an Indian side with a poor Test record, Gower enjoyed a lunchtime drink in one of the sponsors’ tents. Peter May, the chairman of selectors, had seen enough. ‘It was more than likely that May had also been irked by my response to the national clamour for a more bullish style of captaincy – having thirteen T–shirts run off before the Texacos [one-day matches], one of which had the words “I’m In Charge” plastered all over the front, and the other twelve “I’m Not”,’ Gower said.
Gower’s way of dealing with difficult times was to poke fun at them. He might have looked like he didn’t care that much but that was the front he showed to the outside world. As he says in his autobiography, it was a defence mechanism.
I have usually presented a flip and light-hearted view of events instead of getting terribly serious. It is, of course, a form of defence that people like myself present to the world to cover up any insecurity or worries that they may have in the same way that many comedians have deeper, darker sides to their natures.
I’ve always been interested in the dynamics of a dressing-room. A new player, when confronted with an unfamiliar team environment, will find ways to fit in and be accepted into the group. He might be a joker or a ladies’ man, he might try to be one of the boys, or he might gravitate towards another part of the dressing-room and debate the government of the day. Rarely are these bonding relationships built on a deep level. Cricket dressing-rooms are not places for baring emotion, revealing vulnerability. People tend to keep their guards up whilst appearing jocular and matey. Over time you can end up becoming a caricature of your adopted persona.
My guess is it was all too easy for Gower to play the slightly aloof public schoolboy for whom everything came naturally. His peers related to him that way so that was the identity he subconsciously assumed. If you put yourself in a box with a clear label, it is easier for you and your colleagues to co-exist, and easier to hide weakness. When times got tough, Gower became more flippant, hence the T-shirts and the anti-establishment posturing.
Gower came through a difficult 1986 to play a significant part in Gatting’s defence of the Ashes in Australia that winter. Little did he know at the time that, come the Ashes of 1989, he would once again be entrusted with the England captaincy. In 1988, Gatting had been sacked, and Chris Cowdrey, John Emburey and Graham Gooch were tried, but following the cancellation of the winter tour to India and Ted Dexter’s arrival as the new chairman of selectors, replacing May, Gower was re-appointed.
All was not quite as it had seemed, though, as Gatting had been the preferred choice of both Micky Stewart, the manager, and Dexter, but the Middlesex man’s appointment had been vetoed behind closed doors at the TCCB by Ossie Wheatley, the cricket committee chairman. An unsuspecting Gower took charge of England for the second time, confident of repeating his Ashes success of 1985. He scored a double-hundred for Leicestershire at the beginning of the summer with the kind of batting that evoked memories of his finest hour. What he hadn’t legislated for was the change of approach by his opposite number.
‘Border was everybody’s mate in 1985, but nobody’s mate in 1989,’ Gower said. ‘In 1985, we talked all the time, but in 1989 I only heard him say “heads or tails” until about August. He was mean to the opposition, the press, and indeed to his own players. He sledged pretty fiercely too, which is something that doesn’t normally bother me too much, although on this tour it was hyper-unfriendly. In terms of his career, that turnaround in his approach was defining.’
The series got under way at Headingley, the scene of England’s greatest ever Ashes triumph and where Gower’s team had got off to a flying start four years earlier. Gower allowed himself to be talked into omitting a spinner and inserting Australia, hoping for some early seam movement. It backfired spectacularly. Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh both recorded their maiden Test centuries, as each of England’s four-pronged pace attack conceded more than a hundred runs. Border declared at 601 for 7. ‘I ran around attempting to offer words of encouragement,’ Gower said. ‘A captain is pretty well rendered impotent when every single one of his bowlers is off form. The second day was total carnage, with Waugh murdering us through the off-side, and the final humiliation was Merv Hughes scoring 71 in the final session.’
England fought back through a defiant hundred by Allan Lamb, before Robin Smith and Phil Newport saw the home side safely past the follow-on point. Australia, 171 to the good on first innings but with time against them, took the attack to England’s bowlers for the second time in the game. Border and Dean Jones hammered 72 in less than ten overs before the Australian captain declared, setting England a nominal target of 402 in 83 overs. From 67 for 1, England subsided to 191 all out. Terry Alderman bettered his first innings figures of 5 for 107 with 5 for 44, to earn the man-of-the-match award. It was a woeful England performance characterised by Gower being caught down the leg-side in each innings.
‘I was comprehensively rubbished in the press for my dismissals,’ Gower said. ‘Australia approached the match more positively than we did, and made all the right moves. We made all the wrong ones, and they came out of it so far ahead in mental terms that a lot of damage had been done to us. On the other hand, I still believed we could turn it round. If they can win at Headingley, I thought, where history pointed to us, then we can win at Lord’s, where history pointed to them.’
Alas, it was not to be. Fifties from Gooch, Gower and Jack Russell meant England reached 286, but it was not a par score, especially considering the form Waugh was in. He’d obviously heard about London buses, because having waited 27 Tests for his first hundred another one came along in the very next match at the home of cricket. England’s bowlers could find no way past him, as he motored to 152 not out, once again finding useful tail-end support in the form of Geoff Lawson. Lawson contributed 74 out of a partnership of 130, and Australia were eventually bowled out for 528. By the end of day three, England were 58 for 3 in their second innings and Gower was facing the statutory Saturday night press conference. He knew a barrage of criticism was about to come his way, so the defence mechanism kicked in and he located ‘flippant mode’, which further aggravated an already menacing throng of journalists. ‘The growing air of hostility all around the tent got to me and my brain fused,’ Gower said. ‘Mentally I was miles away and I thought it was now time to go in person. Up I got, announced that I had both a theatre engagement awaiting and a taxi running, and swept out of the tent with as much dignity as I could muster.’
After the rest day, most of which was spent trying to appease Dexter and the press, it was back to business for Gower, who resumed his innings 15 not out. ‘It occurred to me that I had never needed a century more than I needed one that day,’ Gower said. ‘Happily that’s how it worked out.’ Gower made 106, his hundred greeted by a rousing ovation from an adoring public, who had never fallen out of love with him. Smith added 96, but with Alderman to the fore once more England were bowled out for 359, leaving Australia to make just 118 for victory, which they achieved with little fuss courtesy of 58 not out from David Boon.
Gower had lost his eighth straight Test match as captain of England. Chris Broad, hero of Gatting’s triumphant Ashes tour two years earlier, was jettisoned for Tim Curtis, as England rang the changes. By the time the team got to Old Trafford, having drawn the rain-affected third Test in Birmingham, it bore little resemblance to the one that had started the series.
‘We were guilty of chopping and changing too much,’ Gower said. ‘If someone had a bad couple of games in those days, they could find themselves out the side. There was no continuity. Broad was one mistake in that series – he had played ever so well in 1986–87. It shouldn’t have happened. I was as much part of it as anyone. Their batters compared to our batters looked a lot more solid and we had bowlers changing every game. That was not entirely due to selection, as we had a lot of injuries.’
The Ashes were lost in Manchester, the Test following the pattern of the summer. England were bowled out for 260, of which Smith made 143, before Australia racked up 447. Taylor made 85, Waugh 92 and Border 80 before Alderman took another five-wicket haul to leave the visitors just 78 to win. At the end of the match, as Australia celebrated their regaining of the famous little urn, England were digesting the information that another rebel tour to South Africa had been announced. Tim Robinson, whom Gower had selected for the Old Trafford Test, was part of that tour party, which was to be led by Gatting, who had announced earlier in the summer that he would be unavailable for England’s winter tour to the West Indies.
Slowly but surely Gower started to put the pieces of the puzzle together, discovering that he hadn’t been England’s first choice captain at the start of the summer. ‘I’d been very happy to do the job despite the politics,’ Gower said. ‘But, looking back, that first press conference where I was announced as the England captain for the summer was a complete farce. “He is the man we want to captain England,” Dexter said – that was a shady use of words. I was completely oblivious to all the sub-plots going around. It would have made a great novel, but it wasn’t a great season!’
Ironically, Australia’s first match after winning back the Ashes was against Gower’s county side, Leicestershire. With the job already done, Border allowed himself to relax a little and accepted Gower’s invitation to a barbecue at his place. ‘I asked him round for something to eat and he turned up with Boon and Marsh,’ Gower said. ‘I lit the barbecue, took out a bottle of champagne and said, “The least I can do is congratulate you on winning.” I opened it with an axe, the cork flew out and a tiny shard of glass went off sideways and caught him just to the side of his eye. I think I said, “Congratulations, serves you right.” Later that evening, he said, “I’m kind of sorry because I have been a miserable git for the last two or three months,” and I replied, “Well, you’ve done it now, so relax.”’
It was business as usual for Australia’s captain when the series resumed, however, Border showing his beleaguered opposite number no mercy. Australia piled on the misery at Trent Bridge, with the openers Marsh (138) and Taylor (219) creating history by batting throughout the first day without being dismissed. Border declared on the third morning at 602 for 6 before Alderman and his cohorts knocked England over twice to win by an innings and 180 runs. Gower had lost ten of his last eleven Tests as England captain. The Oval Test fiasco summed up Gower’s summer.
If anyone reading this chapter bowled seam-up at upwards of 75 mph around the end of the summer of 1989, they can consider themselves unlucky not to have taken part in an Ashes Test. ‘We replaced Moxon and Curtis with Hussain and Stephenson, but no sooner had the team been released than the usual business of people dropping out started up all over again,’ Gower said. ‘Devon Malcolm went in the back, Fraser did his knee and DeFreitas, called in as a replacement having reversed his original decision to go to South Africa, pulled a hamstring. We replaced DeFreitas with Greg Thomas, who then said, “Sorry, I’m DeFreitas’s replacement for South Africa.” Norman Cowans and Ricardo Ellcock were both contacted at Middlesex, and both reported unfit, and Glamorgan’s Steve Watkin was described as being too jiggered to stand up for five days.’
Alan Igglesden, described by Stewart as ‘our 17th choice seamer’, which no doubt filled him full of confidence, was England’s 31st player of a torrid series, but at least he didn’t finish on the losing side. England salvaged a rain-interrupted draw out of the wreckage of their summer, but the eventual 4–0 series scoreline flattered England, who would, in all probability, have lost 6–0 had the weather not intervened. The mood in the England camp could not have been more different to that of the summer of 1985.
Four years earlier captaincy had all seemed so easy to Gower. He could do little wrong with the bat, while his players emphatically came to the party. In 1989, however, Border changed the context of the contest. It was no longer a party, it was a war, and Border had evolved into a tough sergeant major. Gower could not lead that way and his team were blown away.
‘I think people can re-invent themselves if they’re of the mind to do so, but I just tried to be me and be true to what I believed in,’ Gower said. ‘I remember Robin Jackman telling me when I was vice-captain in 1982–83 to just be myself when I became captain, and I thought he was right. But when it all unravelled, which happened far too quickly for comfort, it became a very dark time. In the midst of the darkness you become irritable, moody, pissed off, irrational – all the things that don’t help you as a captain.’
Mark Taylor and Steve Waugh, two players who amassed 1,345 runs between them in the series and who know a thing or two about leadership, are perhaps best placed to pass judgement on Gower’s captaincy in action.
‘I used to admire the way he batted and his free-flowing style,’ Taylor said. ‘We definitely made a decision to toughen up and get nastier and he just wanted to play the same way as he had in 1985. Border would put in a leg slip and he was getting caught there, flicking balls straight into the hands of the fielder. It was extraordinary.’
‘I don’t think he had it in him to be that tough,’ Waugh said. ‘As a captain you have to have a bit of a mongrel streak. If he was in charge of a really good side that was on autopilot, he would have been great, but when he had to rev people up and get them going that wasn’t really his style.’ No, Gower was not a mongrel. If he had been presented at Crufts, indeed, he would have been in a class of his own as a batsman and cricketer of rare pedigree. As a captain, however, he might not have won too many awards.