This was the first time that Janie (Daisy) ever visited Lord’s.
It was my second ever, and last, visit to Lord’s in the 20th century. It was also the only time I actually bought tickets for Lord’s that century, having been taken as a guest on my sole previous visit there:
Unaccustomed as I was to buying tickets for Lord’s back then…oh boy have I made up for it since…and probably a bit slow of the mark for the World Cup to boot, I ended up getting Lower Compton seats some rows back. All has changed since (he says, 25 years later), but back then the Lower Compton was a wind tunnel affair through which you got a somewhat restricted view and in particular had no clear view on a scoreboard.
Who knew that it can be really cold in London at a cricket match in June? Who failed to learn from this 1999 experience?
Once I became better acquainted with Lord’s for a while I would book the Lower Compton front row, which avoided the wind tunnel and tended to have a decent view. But never again did I make the mistake of buying tickets in the middle or rear of that stand. The new Lower Compton is SO much better.
Returning to 1999, we nevertheless had a great day, despite the ordinary seats. It is so difficult not to have a good day at Lord’s. It was even, somewhat surprisingly, a good match, with Neil Johnson & Murray Goodwin keeping Zimbabwe in the hunt for most of the match. All the Cricinfo resources for this match can be found here.
…again to play with Barnardo’s, but this time also with The Children’s Society.
I know that Ian Theodoreson and Bob Harvey gave us and their Barnardo’s charges every encouragement to make these evenings happen, but I have a feeling that neither of them made it to either evening.
Anyway, it was a very jolly evening and a great chance for people to get to know each other as well as mess around a bit playing cricket.
Not only did Barnardo’s still supply a bunch of dudes who knew what they were doing – see photo above…
…The Children’s Society was also blessed with some half-decent cricketers, including Chief Executive and glove man Ian Sparks:
Ian Sparks on gloves, Harish Gohil at bat; presumably this was warming up pre contestCharles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett – starting as he meant to go on
I can’t remember in detail the playing conditions we came up with for this particular evening, but sort-of having three teams in an after work round robin in August was never going to work brilliantly as matches. I have a feeling we played sort-of eight a side with additional supply fielders from the sides that weren’t batting.
No slide rule – but the Barnardo’s score book and my own trusty light meterReservoir Dogs but without the ultraviolence? Kevin Parker (striding, front left), Rupert Stubbs (hatted, central), Michael Mainelli (arms folded in disgust, right).Spot the ball (obviously going uppishly to backward square leg, that’s me batting)Mainelli looks relieved to have been dismissed.
I still think the whole idea had started with Kevin Parker and some of the Barnardo’s team he was working with – I wonder if I can extract a confession from him.
With thanks to DALL-E for collaboration with the images
This is the tale of a memorable moment, a short and sweet vignette, that went on to help forge many years, indeed decades of friendship and kinship over cricket.
The Sweet Anecdote Of That July Day
I had arranged to spend the afternoon with Jeff Tye at a Children’s Society project in Mitcham; one that Jeff had chosen to be a pilot in our seminal performance measurement and recording project, MART.
I think I had already arranged to visit my parents in Streatham that evening, so I think there was an element of opportunism in the choice of project, although I recall that Mitcham was one that Jeff was especially keen to involve.
I had arranged to pick Jeff up from Children’s Society HQ, having spent the morning with another client relatively nearby (Regents Park).
Jeff was a relatively new client to me then – I think I had only met him a couple of times before this day. I remember rehearsing in my mind a way to broach the question of possibly putting the radio on with test match special as we drove from Clerkenwell to Mitcham. I ended up with a form of words along these lines, just before starting the engine:
Please feel free simply to say no, but would you mind if I put the radio on with test match commentary as we drive from here to Mitcham?
Jeff beamed from ear to ear.
Oh my goodness, I’d been wondering all morning whether or how to ask you exactly the same question. I’m so pleased you asked me!
I thought Jeff might give me a hug, he seemed so pleased.
As we drove along, Jeff explained to me that almost everyone I knew and was working with in that charity was fanatical about cricket, not least: Ian Sparks, Edward Bates, Charles Bartlett, Nigel Hinks and himself.
He also explained that he and several others (including Nigel and Charles) had recently spent a day at Edgbaston watching the first day of the test series.
Jeff and I did our bit at that Mitcham project. When we came out, the sun was shining on a glorious summer’s day. I had arranged to drop Jeff at Tooting and then go on to my folks.
Janie, with Nobby, at his last resting place
I had recently acquired Nobby; my wonderful souped-down Honda CRX, which was convertible by dint of removing its solid roof. Jeff was keen to enjoy the benefit of that, even for a short drive.
You’ve got to take advantage of that feature when you can. How many times have you taken the roof off? [Once before, I think was the answer. Perhaps twice.] Anyway, you’ve got to show off that feature to your parents by arriving at their house with the open top.
Of course Jeff was right. So there we were – big Jeff – quite clearly oversized for a small car like Nobby – in the passenger seat – me – in the driving seat – driving along Tooting Broadway and Tooting High Street, listening to the cricket.
South Africa were only four down and nearing 200. I stopped at some traffic lights. Then a crescendo from the radio:
…the umpire’s given him…
Jonty Rhodes, LBW, b Angus Fraser.
Jeff and I both cheered and (to the extent that you can leap when wearing a seatbelt) leapt in the air. Passers by must have thought that we were a pair of lunatics.
The Traditions Forged
Those summer weeks of 1998 were, for me, a reawakening of my devotion to cricket. We had arranged a second game of cricket with the Barnardo’s people; I re-engineered it to include Children’s Society folk as well as Z/Yen and Barnardo’s
Of course, I cannot write the story of the actual origins of The Heavy Rollers. That story can only be written by one of the people who attended Day One of the Edgbaston Test in June, witnessing a rare example in those days of England batting long.
In fact – let’s name names here – the true Heavy Rollers origins story can probably only be written by Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks, who can also relate tales of proto-visits to matches with colleagues before the 1998 outing that is deemed, by all the leading authorities, to be the first actual Heavy Rollers event.
It’s hard to believe that the Heavy Rollers tradition will be quarter-of-a-century old this year, as I write in January 2023.
When I look at the names connected with the, for me, seminal summer of cricket that was 1998, I am still in touch with so many of them. Not just the Heavy Rollers, but also Kevin Parker and Ian Theodoreson who initiated the playing of cricket tradition that was later adopted even more wholeheartedly by the Children’s Society gang. Even Angus Fraser, who took the wicket that made me and Jeff leap. is still in my orbit, through my Middlesex and Lord’s activities.
I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.
Quintessential Harris shot, late 1990s: the uppish leg-side hoick
Between 1984 and 1998 I pretty much didn’t play cricket at all. Perhaps the odd knock around when I was in my mid twenties, then there were the dog years of the early 1990s following my catastrophic back injury in the summer of 1990. After that, my cricket “career” was limited to a bit of watching and the odd umpiring stint…
…until the summer of 1998.
That summer, Z/Yen was still doing work with Barnardo’s and had also by then got heavily involved with The Children’s Society. Thus it transpired that our main client contacts, especially at the latter, were keen cricketers.
But the initial challenge came from Barnardo’s and I think it was Kevin Parker who initially picked up the challenge. The idea was promulgated with the blessing of Barnardo’s senior folk, Ian Theodoreson and Bob Harvey, but sadly not their presence.
So like buses, no cricket for years and then two matches came along in a row. The first of them was just Z/Yen and Barnardo’s.
Z/Yen – a tiny company with about 10 employees in those days. Barnardo’s employed several thousand people, a great many of whom worked at the Barkingside campus.
Barnardo’s had quite a lot of people who knew what they were doing for a cricket match…
One of the Barnardo’s IT team, if I recall correctly
…whereas Z/Yen didn’t. I press-ganged a few likely folk and we tried our best against adversity, but adversity…by which I mean Barnardo’s…were destined to win.
By the time we got to this first match, I think that the plans for a second match, which ended up including people from The Children’s Society, were already in place, so I think we all saw this first one as a bit of a warm up.
But Micky’s one and only experience of cricket had very little to do with warm up. Micky is from Belgium and fancied having a go. He’s that sort of “have a go” chap. Back in 1998, he wasn’t exactly displacing a queue of Z/Yen people who wanted to play…
…let’s be honest about this, we were struggling to get a team together; hence the cunning plan to bring in The Children’s Society enthusiasts for the next one.
…I thought Micky might be safest patrolling the boundary.
But Micky did no warming up or keeping warm exercise ahead of the ball coming vaguely in his direction about 20-30 minutes into the match. He set off enthusiastically around the outfield only to pull up with a hamstring tear some 10 yards shy of the ball.
So when it was Z/Yen’s turn to bat, we not only had to explain the way batting works to Micky, we also had to provide him with a runner and explain how that arcane aspect of the laws of cricket works too.
Not ideal.
Yet still a good time was being had by all.
My other very clear memory is my own experience batting in partnership with a gentleman named Nigel. He was Karen Moore’s partner or husband, so qualified to play for Z/Yen on those grounds. He might otherwise have seemed like a ringer.
Nigel was no cricketer but he was a fitness instructor and had a Mr Motivator manner and clearly was a talented all-round sportsman.
I was scratching away, barely able to put bat on ball…
…well I hadn’t played for 14 years or so…
…until Nigel came to the crease, only to start whacking the ball using just hand-eye and natural talent.
Come on Ian, you can do it…
…Nigel hollered encouragingly and convincingly from the non-strikers end. And strangely, feeding off Nigel’s ill-founded confidence in me and the freedom that added to my game, I started to score some runs and contribute well to our partnership.
OK, we couldn’t turn the game around, but we had a decent knock – perhaps I put on 10-12 – which I remember making me feel well chuffed.
I think the match took place near Barkingside – I think Fairlop – perhaps Old Parkonians – my diary is silent on detail.
Postscript: my memory has served me well. I wrote this up for Now & Z/Yen at the time thusly:
Z/Yen defied all the spread bets by coming a close second in a cricket competition in late July, against Barnardo’s, at Fairlop. Z/Yen highlights included Jane Beazley taking a wicket, Michael Mainelli scoring 16 runs “baseball style”, Michel Einhorn pulling a hamstring and a stunning undefeated partnership of 36 runs in three overs between Ian Harris and Nigel Moore.
None of these stunts were enough to prevent Barnardo’s from deservedly winning by 23 runs. Unlike our good friends at Barnardo’s, Z/Yen took the obvious precaution of bringing some children along with us, only one of whom succeeded in getting a black eye trying to retrieve the ball. It was an amazing summer evening, which showed the weather characteristics of spring, autumn and winter during the two hours of play. The weather improved once we retired to the sports centre for beer and cake. Watch out for the next similar event; it was a smashing evening.
The full stack of pictures (from both matches) might help savvy locals to work it out:
25 years ago, I got very excited when I scored a rare (or relatively rare) book in a second hand bookshop. Latterly, if I want such a book I sit on my backside for a few minutes, possibly only a few moments, find the book on-line, part company with my money and wait for the nice delivery person to bring the book to my door.
Back then, I made occasional trips to Hay-On-Wye and kept lists of books that I particularly wanted.
One such book was the original Boundary Book – a collection of essays about cricket from 1961. Not the oft-found “Second Innings” Boundary Book – also produced as a Lord’s Taverners fundraising machine – I acquired a copy of that easily enough and would always see multiple copies of that one in the Hay-On-Wye shops. It was the “hard to find” original I wanted.
I particularly remember the unlikely circumstance in which I found the book. Not in any of the shops that had decent sports/cricket sections (where I was repeatedly told that the original Boundary Book was hard to find), but in a small, generalist bookshop that had caught my eye for some other reason. I asked, almost as an afterthought, if they had any cricket books. “Possibly”, I was told, “there’s just a shelf or two of sports books over there”.
There, on one of those sparse shelves, was my long-sought-after book. Not only a copy, but a copy in excellent condition, with the dust jacket in well preserved order and even the original cricket bat bookmark on a piece of ribbon. £3. I thought about it for a fraction of a second and eagerly bought the book. “Ah, you found a cricket book”, said the shopkeeper. “Believe it or not, I found the very one I was looking for”, said I. He smiled, probably thinking I was just being polite…or trying to be funny.
I didn’t really know what I would find in the original Boundary Book – other than a collection of essays written just before I was born. But for some years I had longed to satisfy that archetypal book-lover’s quest, to track down a particular desired book. In any case, I had the sense that some of the best essays that Lesley Frewin gathered for his charity fundraising cricket books project over the years will have been in the first of those books…and I was right about that. There are many truly excellent essays in that original Boundary Book.
One essay in particular was to have a profound effect on me and my future following of cricket – an essay by Stephen Potter (the One-Upmanship fellow), called Lord’smanship.
It was that essay, in which Potter confesses to being a member of Middlesex CCC (MCCC) but not a member of Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), that caused me to plan to join Middlesex as a life member on my fortieth birthday, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Now I am a life member of both MCCC and the MCC. But I still like Bach and I still have a beard and I suspect that the sound I would emit saying “MCCC” would still be indistinguishable from “MCC”, especially if I were to say it after two or three G&Ts.
2023 marks the 25th anniversary of the very first Heavy Rollers day watching cricket – on 4 June 1998 – when Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks, Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett, “Big Papa Zambezi” Jeff Tye, David “David Peel” Steed & Paul “Fifth Beatle” Griffiths witnessed the first day of the test series between England & South Africa at Edgbaston.
In this guest piece, Nigel reflects on the tradition that started that day and the events that led to its birth. Questions such as “How did we get here?” and “Why curtains?” I add to the piece with theological and ethnomethodological interpretations of Nigel’s epiphany, plus, more importantly, some pictures and cricket links.
My initiation into the tradition itself was the following year, 1999 – you may see a write up of that occasion by clicking here or the link below.
A quarter of a century ago an early gathering of cricket enthusiasts assembled before a more buoyant South African touring side than exists currently. The tight group of participants applauded the carefully negotiated seating, oblivious to the fact that this would one day swell to eleven; the perfect accommodation arrangements (courtesy of The Children’s Society’s residential training centre) and the prospect of emergent friendships, forged through shared cricketing passions.
‘Yard’ cricket games would take place in one garden adjacent to a severe slope that would once take down Charley when in ever- increasing pursuit of a forward defensive gaining pace down the hill; and within public spaces that would entice inner-city youths to “come and have a go” in the best possible tradition. Indoor nets alongside the real thing have even been secured. No one could forget the pre-Ashes game in the garden fashioned from a farmer’s field by Big Jeff, where a surprise-addition associate walked-off with both of the tacky commemorative trophies.
Nobody could have predicted the longevity of this annual pursuit. When the familiar, and sometimes less so, would gleefully reconvene. Life’s troubles, work stresses were forgotten immediately insults, and warm greetings, began to be exchanged.
The crucial purchasing of tickets has been handed on baton-like, never once dropped until the best seats are secured. The catering responsibilities likewise, although the standards set by Mrs Malloy remain beyond any imitation, with personally labelled sandwiches for the fussy and egg-phobic in colour-coded wrapping.
Or, indeed, how this creation would withstand the accusations of elitism, vain efforts by senior personnel to muscle-in on the action, the eventual disintegration of our prized accommodation and, more poignantly, the redundancy of several Rollers.
Such was the strength, and singularity of purpose, as these cricket-friends, undeterred by adversity, toured a variety of alternative venues, some appalling and others more convivial (See links to pieces referencing Harborne Hall and The Hotel from Hell).
Second generation Rollers have been initiated, along with some of their mates, with one or two notable “one-hit wonders” who came and went. Other respected Associates were also invited to make repeat appearances.
That First Day Of Heavy Rollers At The Cricket: 4 June 1998
Memories fade. The 1998 Heavy Rollers day is the least documented and most temporally remote, nearly 25 years later. Yet the cast of characters (five) was documented many years ago, in 2012, during our rain -ruined sojourn. The following snippets emerge from me (Ian) interviewing Nigel.
The tradition of most rollers staying overnight at Wadderton and dining together the night before the match would have been initiated. Only Paul “Fifth Beatle” Griffiths simply joined the Heavy Rollers at the ground on the day (legend has it arriving late and leaving early).
Jeff Tye’s prediction betting game was there, at least in embryonic form. Paul struggled to engage with the game realistically, either because he really had no idea how a test match day tends to pan out or perhaps as an act of rebellion against the game. But everyone else participated as best they could.
Nigel – reflecting at Wadderton, 2003 – photo by Charles
Indeed, the post-lunch wooziness that affected all Heavy Rollers who chose to imbibe might well have induced a reflective phase in Nigel’s mind. “How did we get here? What sequence of events has led to this glorious day at the cricket with friends? What might it all mean?”
The answers to those tricky questions will lead us down many thought paths and to several prior events. But if I am to deconstruct Nigel’s answer to one word, that word is “curtains”.
How A Search For Curtains Revealed The Inner Truth Of Nigel’s Faith In Cricket, January 1995
DALL-E 2 imagining: “curtains of fine woven linen and blue, purple, and scarlet thread; with artistic designs of cherubim”
On the Monday [5th day] of that January 1995 Adelaide Test, I had decided to take a little time out of the cricket to-and-froing underway at the Adelaide Oval. I had already witnessed Mike Gatting’s retirement after his final Test century, and five-ball duck; a moody Glen McGrath when not selected; Craig McDermott’s late entry after the previous evening’s dodgy crocodile dinner; plus, together with Geoff, my scouse-Aussie mate, a forceful exchange of views about Mike Atherton’s captaincy credentials with the late Tony Greig, by the wheelie-bins.
Thus I sought solace in my host’s offer…..to go shopping…..for bedroom curtains.
What possessed this decision to accompany Mercedes (Geoff’s wife), a delightful Spanish-Aussie, to buy curtains from a low-budget retail outlet in the port area of the City, will remain a mystery.
It has been suggested that accompanying Mercedes was an ideal antidote to Greg Blewett’s maiden century on debut, and 40 degree centigrade temperatures. But, curtains? For goodness sake.
The curtain spotting excursion was progressing as only these things can, until Geoff, my Scouse-Aussie mate, managed to convey (via one of those new-fangled mobile phones) something of the excitement now unfolding [at the Adelaide Oval] that would make any further curtain exploration instantly less appealing. In fairness Geoff had consistently eschewed the idea of curtain shopping and was now fully vindicated.
He made it known that we had to get to the Oval asap, as Phil De Freitas was in the process of doing something far more attention-worthy than the selection of a durable, mid-priced fabric for a teen’s [Geoff & Mercedes daughter, Carmen’s, to be specific] bedroom. Consequently, following the De Freitas wonder-knock, and equally memorable bowling from Chris Lewis and Devon Malcolm, England secured what was once a very unlikely victory.
It is here that the gossamer-thin, embryonic conception that would eventually create the Heavy Rollers begins to emerge. It was in the post match euphoria, just after David Gower added his signature to that of former captains, M J Atherton and……D A Reeve, that I promised myself that I would be witness to [at least part of] all further Ashes series when back home. To do so with cricket loving colleagues and friends would be my ambition, but just how to make it a reality didn’t yet enter my thoughts; it was still just a dream.
The Adelaide Oval some 10 years later
Interviewing Nigel some 28 years after the exciting events of the 1994/95 4th Ashes Test at the Adelaide Oval, it was clear that none of the sense of euphoria from that day has departed Nigel’s soul. It was one of those life-affirming, never-to-be-forgotten memories that remains vivid for Nigel – it was a cricket epiphany.
I have investigated Biblical references to curtains to try and understand the profound meaning of this particular epiphany. In Exodus 26, the curtains for the Tabernacle are specified in some detail.
“Moreover you shall make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine woven linen and blue, purple, and scarlet thread; with artistic designs of cherubim you shall weave them. The length of each curtain…”
Intriguingly the very first thing that God specifies for the building of the Tabernacle is the curtains. Personally I’d start with the structural stuff, but then I couldn’t create much in six days, let alone the entire universe and all that is in it, so what do I know?
Emanuel Swedenborg believed that the significance of the “curtains” in that Exodus 26 passage is the interior truths of faith. Thus it was fitting that Nigel went in search of curtains on the morning of the 5th day of that 4th Test at Adelaide, when his faith in cricket was failing him; yet also the very day when, just a few hours later, the interior truths of his cricketing faith were revealed to him.
On the other hand, for all we know, poor Carmen – Geoff and Mercedes daughter – might never have been bought the promised curtains. Nigel neither knows nor cares whether the aborted shopping trip was ever rescheduled. Carmen’s side of this story, a sorry tale of teenage disappointment at the hands of her parents and their visitor, might be intriguing in all sorts of ways.
The Day Nigel Delivered On the First Bit Of His Self-Promise: Day One Of The 1997 Ashes, Edgbaston, 5 June 1997
A different England v Australia Day At Edgbaston around that time
The groundworks were to be dug still further in June 1997 when I made my introduction with Charley at the residential training centre [Wadderton], the venue for future Heavy Roller gatherings.
I was buoyant, if rather red-nosed, after the first day of play at Edgbaston, when Australia had been bowled out for just 118. An exciting Test was now in motion, despite a threatened Aussie comeback with the ball.
Charley became instantly engaged with the recall, having regularly checked progress throughout the day. Devon Malcolm’s tumbling catch in the outfield to end a spirited Shane Warne fight back was specifically relived but well clear of the infamous hill-end that would claim Charley in years to come. There was still time to describe the standing rendition of D-I-S-C-O by those occupying the seats in front after every boundary.
This very first meeting with Charley, who was staying over for a more mundane work matter, led to the beginnings of a plan for the following year. We vowed to return, possibly with other enthusiasts, for the Edgbaston Test match. I confess to wondering if this expressed enthusiasm was going to be akin to a brief holiday romance, where numbers are exchanged but never acted upon.
However, Charley was true to his declaration. He was definitely up for it when it was time for me to start phoning Edgbaston ticket office for the following year’s fixture.
(Those were the distant days when phone calls to real people at places like Edgbaston’s ticket office were still possible). I secured a handful of excellent tickets. I then approached Big Jeff who was an immediate selection, as was David Steed, who managed Wadderton.
Intriguingly, I had never previously realised that Nigel met Charles for the first time, in the summer of 1997, a few weeks before I met him. It was truly fortuitous that they met in that context at Wadderton on the evening of Nigel’s return from the cricket. It really is conceivable that the Heavy Rollers might never have happened had it not been for the combined enthusiasm of Nigel and Charles seeing through on that 1997 promise to make the idea of a cricket gathering at the Edgbaston test in 1998 a reality.
That whole 1998 test series was extraordinary. Here is a highlights reel for the whole series.
There would be scope for others to participate. Could there possibly be like-minded enthusiasts about? That idea following Adelaide ’95 was slowly becoming a reality it seemed.
Indeed, it was only a few weeks after that very first heavy rollers event that my “field trip” with Jeff brought me into the fold for the following year and the ensuing decades – click here or below.
Such was the unqualified success of this ‘first’ episode. Despite there being no presumption of repetition, it duly was and other stalwart Rollers were snapped up (Ian “Ged Ladd” Harris, Harish “Harsha Goble” Gohil, Nick “The Boy Malloy” Bartlett, Dan “Dan Peel” Steed) to provide illustrious and valued membership, some to this day.
I am writing in January 2020, on the day the U19 Cricket World Cup in South Africa is starting.
Last time the U19 Cricket World Cup was in South Africa was early 1998. That was also the last time (and so far the only time) that England won the U19 World Cup.
Rob Key had a fine tournament, although not such a magnificent final.
It was Stephen Peters who topped the scoring/batting averages for England in that tournament and who scored the “man of the match ton” in the final.
It turns out that Peters was Essex in those days and hails from Harold Wood – Charley “The Gent” Malloy territory.
That thought made me realise that, in February 1998, I had only recently met Charles through our work at The Children’s Society and I had neither met Nigel “Father Barry” nor “Big Papa Zambesi” Jeff…yet. At that juncture, Charles was working mainly with Mike Smith. Coincidentally, Janie and I spent the evening with Mike and Marianna less than two weeks ago as I write:
It wasn’t until that summer, 1998, by which time I was also working with Nigel and Jeff, that I learnt that Chas, Nigel, Jeff…they all had a passion for cricket.
It must have been July, that topsy-turvy 1998 test series between England & South Africa was well under way. Jeff and I were going to visit a project in Mitcham – I had arranged to drive over to Clerkenwell, meet to plan the visit and then drive Jeff out to Mitcham.
When we got to the car, I tentatively asked Jeff if he would mind if I put the test match on the radio while we drove out there. Jeff’s trademark big beaming smile appeared on his face and he said,
I’d been trying to work out how to phrase that question politely to you…
…we listened all the way to the project (while also discussing cricket of course) and then again when we left the project. I arranged to drop Jeff at one of the Northern Line Tootings or Balham before I went on to see my folks.
It was a very hot late afternoon and I took the roof off Nobby – one of the very few times I did that. Big Papa Zambesi Jeff must have been grateful for the extra head room in a topless Nobby (as it were).
Janie, with Nobby, at his last resting place
I recall England taking a wicket when we were stopped at traffic lights somewhere around Tooting and we must have looked a right pair of charlies in that car leaping for joy at an announcement on the radio.
But returning to the U19 World Cup Final match on 1 February 1998, I realise that Nobby was just a twinkle in my and Janie’s eyes on that day. I think we had seen Mack the day before that final and arranged to buy Nobby. The deal was done the following Saturday…
…and I think it was the Saturday after that, in deep midwinter, that Janie and I visited the Mainellis in Nobby to see their newborn baby, Xenia, at the end of which Rupert Stubbs and the other visitors insisted on seeing us drive off with Nobby’s roof off. We drove round the corner, put the roof back on and tried to stop shivering all the way home.
I was trying to recall how I followed the tournament and that 1 February 1998 match.
To some extent, I think
No on-line all the time Cricinfo in those days. Ceefax was the only source of constantly updating cricket scores.
But I think also, in those days, Janie and I could hear sky commentary on her Videotron cable TV arrangement. She didn’t have the additional Sky sports subscription in those days – most of the cricket was terrestrial, free-to-air, but the scrambled channels, such as the sports ones, had sound all the time with the picture scrambled. I have a feeling we followed bits of that final that way.
But my main reflections are of how long ago all of that was and the journey I have shared with so many of those characters over the decades…
…and of the cricket careers that have come and gone for those (then) youngsters who fought that final. Most of the finalists went on to professional careers, many international ones. Some glorious, some less than glorious, but all interesting.
I am writing this memory piece on 4 December 2019, having just learnt that the great fast bowler and latterly cricket pundit, Bob Willis, has died today.
For those who cannot be bothered to click through, Graham and I really did meet Bob that day in 1977, down in the tube station, an hour or so after stumps, as we were all heading to different households in Streatham, in his case to visit friends on the test match rest day.
I doubt very much whether Bob recognised me 20 years later on our second encounter; on this occasion in the Albertine Wine Bar in Shepherd’s Bush.
Teresa Bestard was working with me on several projects with Broadcasting Support Services, who at that time were based in Shepherd’s Bush. I had arranged to meet Teresa and David Highton to go through stuff late afternoon/early evening and we agreed we’d have a drink after work together. Teresa chose Albertine because she wanted to celebrity spot.
The bar was not so crowded when we got there and Teresa was a little disappointed not to recognise any celebrities in the bar.
The only person I recognised, on the far side of the bar, was Bob Willis. He was with two other people; one turned out to be the cricket journalist Michael Henderson, the other a mustachioed Aussie, who looked like a superannuated version of Merv Hughes but who was in fact a wine producer.
I told Teresa that a former great England cricketer was in the bar, which was celebrity enough for me. It was celebrity enough for David Highton too, who is/was a keen follower of cricket and indeed was a decent player in his own right when he turned out for the charity matches.
Teresa let it be known that former cricketers did not meet her stringent criteria for celebrity.
David didn’t hang around for very long.
Teresa asked me a bit more about Bob Willis. In the absence of any celebrities who met her stringent criteria, she suddenly promoted Bob to the “worth asking about” level.
I told her a little and suggested that she approach Bob and chat with him.
Teresa was not at all keen on that idea…
…until she progressed to a second glass of wine…
…when she asked again about this cricket business and that cricketer and I suggested that she approach Bob Willis with a greeting along the lines of…
…aren’t you Bob Willis, the great fast bowler and former England cricket captain…
…and take it from there.
So imagine the scene. Teresa Bestard, a pint-sized young woman with a big smile and a heavy Catalan accent, wanders to the other side of the bar, looks up to the relative giant, Bob Willis, presumably saying the above short speech.
I couldn’t hear from my distance, but I did see the astonished expression on Bob Willis’s face and gales of laughter from the group.
Teresa was then chatting with them for a short while, before Michael Henderson came over to me.
You set that up, didn’t you?…
..said Henderson…
…that was really funny. Is she your girlfriend?
No, I said, Teresa’s a work colleague.
Well, anyway, she’s perfectly safe with those two.
Henderson and I chatted a while, which is how I found out, amongst other things, that “Merv Senior” was a wine producer.
Soon enough, Bob, “Merv Senior” and Teresa came over to our table – I think the Bob Willis party had been on the verge of leaving when Teresa intervened with them, so all three of them made to leave.
Is this your girlfriend?…
…Bob Willis asked me, pointing to Teresa.
Oh no, blushed Teresa, you should meet his girlfriend Janie, she’s lovely!
Bob Willis turned to me, saluted me and said…
…mon capitaine…
…before all three of Bob’s party left us, with warm farewells.
Picture taken from the Compton Stand at a Test some 20 years later.
There are only cryptic messages in my diary, but I do remember this day well:
Cookie Lords
Charlie Barnett 98 before lunch
Olly
Heather Rabbatts
Cookie in this instance is James Cooke, who was doing a bit of associate work with us, mostly introductions. As it turned out, the most fruitful introduction Cookie made (from my personal/selfish point of view) was introducing me to Lord’s.
Believe it or not this was my first visit to Lord’s. Little did I know then how much of my time I would end up spending in that wonderful place.
Why Cookie mentioned and I wrote down that factoid about Charlie Barnett, is a mystery. Perhaps Cookie had met or was related to Charlie Barnett?
I wrote down the names Olly and Heather Rabbatts in different coloured ink from the other notes – I’m guessing I wrote the latter two while at Lord’s with Cookie. I cannot remember who Olly is/was. I do recall that Cookie wanted to introduce us to Heather, whom he knew. She was a high flyer who at that time had recently become Chief Executive at Lambeth.
It was an informal invitation – just the two of us, me and Cookie sitting in the Compton Stand. That stand was still quite new then and did not yet have the sweep/link to the Grandstand, as the new Grandstand was still a year away.
England were not a good side in the mid 1990s and looked out of their depth batting against that fine Pakistan bowling line up, which included Wasim, Waqar and Mushtaq.
I remember Cookie providing a splendid picnic – I guess that was to be the prototype for my informal hospitality picnics in the coming decades.
I’m sure I thanked Cookie at the time but there is no way I could have thanked him sufficiently for planting that Lord’s seed in my psyche. So 20+ years and hundreds of visits later, I’d like to thank Cookie again for the introduction to Lord’s.
Young Brian Lara’s a batsman, Who’s wanting to score record runs; Fours, Sixes, And no-one stops him scoring tons. The bowlers are so frustrated, They cannot get Brian Lara out; They’re knocked away, round the park all day, And this is what those bowlers shout.
CHORUS 1
{boom boom boom bomm} Bowl Lara a yorker, {boom boom boom bomm} Bowl Lara a goog-l-ie, {boom boom boom bomm} Pick stitches off the seam, It’s our only chance to bowl out his team.
VERSE 2
But back in his native West Indies, They wanted young Brian in Trinidad; His girlfriend moaned, “he’ll not come home”, Although that Sobers spinner had.
CHORUS 2
{boom boom boom bomm} Is Lara a lover? {boom boom boom bomm} Will Lara just leave her? {boom boom boom bomm} Despite his record cache, He still can’t score off his maiden match. ({boom boom boom bomm} Tell Lara to lob her, tell Lara to feel her….)
Below is a video of Ricky Valance singing Tell Laura I Love Her, with lyrics on the screen.
