In my opinion, no game other than cricket has the ability to produce incidents that are humourous. I hope not many will disagree! There are many on and off the field incidents and jokes that have been recorded in various places - in autobiographies, media, articles, books, magazines etc. Humour adds to the fun and makes playing all the more enjoyable. That's what the game is there for!I have collected a few and here they are.
Fine job:
One day, the great leg-spinner ‘Tich’ Freeman was bowling so badly that he was being hit all over the ground. After one such over his captain told ‘Tich’ that he was doing a fine job and having the batsmen in two minds – whether to hit for a six or a four!
Request:
Facing fast bowler Ray Lindwall for the first time Johnny Wardle’s bat was shaking in his hands as he took guard. “Now come on what do you want?” asked Ray. “A slow full toss down the leg side please.” came Wardle’s reply.
Long run:
Roly Thompson of Warwickhshire used to take an unnecessarily long run to bowl. Joe Hardstaff told “He takes such a long run that you are out of form by the time he reaches the stumps.”
Staying tactic:
In an England-Australia match, Ray Lindwall was bowling to a new batsman who knew that he would not survive the fury of Lindwall, decided to at least spend some time at the crease. He wanted the sight-screen to be adjusted. He was not satisfied with any position of the screen even after five minutes. The umpires got furious and asked him where exactly he wanted the screen. “In between myself and Lindwall” came the batsman’s witty reply.
Dropped catches:
On the famous occasion when Victoria amassed 1107 runs against NSW for whom Arthur Mailey was bowling, his figures were 4 for 362. He said afterwards “I should have had even better figures if a bloke in a brown trilby hat in the sixth row of the pavilion roof hadn’t dropped three sitters.”
But, is he out?
During an Indian tour of New Zealand an umpire was declining every appeal by the Indians. B.S.Chandrasekhar once bowled a batsman and appealed “Howzzaat?” The umpire retorted “Can’t you see he is bowled?” Chandra asked “ I know, but is he out?”
Walking:
Australian captain Bill Lawry, the world knew, was no ‘walker’ when it came to being ‘out’. Once he was declared caught behind but stood his ground till first slip shouted “Move it Bill, waiting for a bus or something?”
Famous spoonerism:
Denis Compton, a fine commentator after his playing era, often got tongue-tied over cricketers’ names. The man who suffered most at his hands [or tongue] was Alan Connolly, the Australian quickie. Compton always announced him as ‘Anal Colony’, despite repeated corrections!
Hope realized:
When the bald Brian Close announced his retirement, a gushing reporter asked “Well Closey, have any of your childhood hopes been realized?” Close quipped “Yes, when my mother used to pull my hair, I wished I didn’t have any.”
Bad patch:
Once, JWHT Douglas was in a ‘bad patch’. In a match he was just blocking the balls. Someone in the crowd shouted “Johnny Won’t Hit Today.” referring to his initials.
Not out:
When another LBW appeal was negative, Fred Trueman, the bowler asked the umpire icily “I think that’d have hit the bloody wicket. Where do you think it would have hit, huh?” “How the heck should I know? The batsman’s leg was in the way.” replied the unruffled gentleman!
Biggest hit:
When asked which was the biggest ever hit made by Gilbert Jessop himself he was fond of saying “The one that went from Beccles to London.” A reference to a ball he had once hit into a railway truck passing by!
Grand piano
A batsman had played and missed a number of times. Someone in the crowd shouted “Send him down a grand piano and see if he can play that.”(that someone was "Yabba")
Fear of Typhoon
During a Test Match in Australia when a particular Australian batsman was going out to bat to Frank ‘Typhoon’ Tyson, he was so nervous that he could not close the latch of the pavilion gate after him. A voice from the crowd shouted “Leave it open buddy, you won’t be long.”(Again one from Yabba)
Testing Cricket:
The most famous cricket ignoramus was probably George Bernard Shaw, who on being told that England won the Australian Tests asked “What have they been testing?”
Owzzaat?
Notts ‘keeper Tour Oates was happy to become an umpire at the end of his playing career, when in one of his early matches as umpire at the bowler’s end saw the batsman hit squarely on the pads. “Owzzaat?” he shouted, filled with sudden excitement! “Out” said the bowler. And out it was!
Most garbled call:
In a letter the “The Times” in 1935, Mr. Charles Ponsonby wrote “I was playing in a match last year, and as the bowler delivered the ball the umpire muttered “B-v-v-v..” and after a sudden pause, added “I beg your pardon, I meant to say no-ball. But I dropped my teeth!”
Cunning Grace:
Bobby Abel was all set for a ton, on 96 at lunch. The fielding captain Dr.W.G.Grace told Abel that he’d help him reach his century by bowling a slow full toss just after lunch. Abel happily hit the ball from Dr.Grace not knowing he had a fieldsman placed on the mid-wicket boundary for that very purpose, only to be caught easily. Abel while walking back grumbled at Grace that he was a ‘big old toad’.
Grace ball:
Once, Dr.W.G.Grace was a guest player against a village team. Their fast bowler uprooted Grace’s , middle stump first ball. Grace fixed a piercing eye on him and said “That was a very good trial ball, and now let’s begin.”
Boundary:
In the match between Sussex and West Indies at Hove, N.I.Thomson hit a ball from Valentine to leg and a black dog bounded on the field, seized the ball and carried it over the boundary, hotly pursued by players and umpires. The four runs were credited to Thomson, not the dog.
Thompson’s catch:
Long ago, a batsman lifted the ball high into the clouds. A few fieldsmen got underneath it in an attempt to catch it. Suddenly, someone shouted “Leave it to Thompson.” None tried to catch it and the ball fell in a ‘forest of legs’. Thompson was not playing!
Monkey tricks:
In a country match in some English village, Dr.W.G.Grace had made 20 runs or so when he played out at a ball and missed it. The local ‘keeper snapped up the ball, whipped off the bails and screamed at the umpire in appeal. The umpire said “Not out, and look ee’re, young fellow, the crowd has come to see Doctor Grace and not any of your monkey tricks.”
Australian creatures:
During the Ashes series in England, Norman Yardley the England captain got a letter from an old woman like this: “I have no interest in cricket and I do not care who wins. But the other day, quite by accident, I listened for a few minutes to the Test Match commentator. He said that someone or something called Lindwall bowling. It sounded purely a name to me, but when he proceeded to say this bowler had two long legs, one short fine leg, I was shocked. Tell me Mr.Yardley, what kind of creatures are these Australian cricketers? No wonder our Englishmen can’t win!” [From a book “Too many legs”]
Bert's batting reputation:
Bert Ironmonger, not the best of batsmen, had just gone in to bat when his wife rang up and wanted to speak to him. The room attendant said “I’m sorry, Bert has just gone in to bat” Mrs.Ironmonger replied “Don’t worry, I’ll hang on, he won’t be long.”
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Forgotten greats of Cricket
The game of cricket has seen numerous great cricketers since the first Test match between Australia and England at MCG in 1877. They did not merely uphold the spirit of cricket; they gracefully embodied it. In addition to their distinctive talents to remain at the top of the game, the blend of characters enabled the game to reach its present phase of evolution. The life histories of some of the greats seem to have been vanished due to some enigmatic reasons. Amongst these, there were batsmen who took batting to an unearthly plane, fast bowlers who mastered in all conditions with powerful, rhythmic approach, unwavering control and late swing brought a hush to arenas all over the world; spinners who bamboozled the batsmen with their wizardry: fielders with absolutely splendid athleticism, sublime catching ability and breathtaking speed in the field.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Jack Iverson
Jack Iverson's mystery grip
Everyone is talking abt Ajanta Mendis's mysterious bowling but he is not the only one bowling like that. Jack Iverson who played for Australia back in 1950 was a similar type of bowler.
It is commonly said that nothing in cricket occurs for the first time. Players reset statistical benchmarks, of course & attain new standards of excellence. But styles & theories of batting, bowling, fielding & captaincy allegedly exist in a cycle of creative reinvention, endlessly echoing those gone before. The former Australian captain Victor Richardson used to tell his grandsons, the brothers Chappell: "Don't believe taht anything is new in Cricket. It's all tried before....If you hang onto a suit long enough it will come back into favour."
Fifty years ago, however, there appeared a tall, shy, shambling Australian named Jack Iverson who challenged this verity. He bowled like no man before & a mere handful since, clasping the ball snugly between the thumb and a folded middle finger as though giving it a secret handshake. And extending that middle finger while maintaining the fulcrum of the opposable thumb turned cricket physics on its head; from the same grip, with slight alterations of the arm's angle at release, Iverson bowled top spinners & wrong ones that looked like leg breaks, leg breaks that resembled off breaks. If slow bowling is the art of deceit, Iverson rankswith the perpetrators of greatest forgeries in history.
They called him, allusively, a 'mystery spinner', nicknamed him 'The Freak'.And when he routed England in a test in Sydney in January of 1951, Jack Iverson & his spin bowling sub-genre of one became the sensations of their time. " He has skill extraordinary and the demeanour of a thoughtful player," wrote English journalist John Kay. " His like come seldom. When they arrive, every effort should be made to keep them on the scene!" But stay he did not. Within a few years, all that remained of Jack Iverson in cricket's annals were memories, statistics & a few fading photographs of that impossible grip.
Comet-like cricket careers are themselves not unusual in Australian cricket; about 4 in 10 players in its record books have played no more than 5 tests. Usually it is because Test cricket's unique demands strech them beyond their talent & temperament, or because form deserts them at inopportune moments, or because rivals of similar ability are in abundance. But again, none of this applied to Iverson. For the seven years from his unannouced appearance in sub-district ranks to the end of his first-class career, he was perhaps the world's most destructive bowler, harvesting in all classes of cricket more than 500 wickets at a cost of just over 12 runs each. He headed the bowling averages in Brighton's premiership season of 1947-48, then in Melbourne's of 1948-49. The following season he headed the Sheffield Shield averages and First-class averages on an undefeated Australian tour of New Zealand. Finally he led the test averages in a 4-1 Ashes victory in 1950-51.
After a handful of further first-class matches, however, Iverson faded from view, like a line of handwriting where the ink has unexpectedly petered out. The bowler whom Keith Miller & Richie Benaud still believe would have dissolved batsmen on contact in English conditions never went there, preferring to become a suburban estate agent collecting rents & pacing out frontages. He died young, at fifty eight, in apparently benighted circumstances, and considering himself a "broken-down old cricketer" whom "no-one remembered".
Jack Iverson
Australia
Player profile
Full name John Brian Iverson
Born July 27, 1915, Melbourne, Victoria
Died October 24, 1973, Brighton, Victoria (aged 58 years 89 days)
Major teams Australia, Victoria
Batting style Right-hand bat
Bowling style Legbreak googly
Batting and fielding averages Mat Inns NO Runs HS Ave 100 50 4s 6s Ct St
Tests 5 7 3 3 1* 0.75 0 0 0 0 2 0
First-class 34 46 27 277 31* 14.57 0 0 13 0
Bowling averages Mat Inns Balls Runs Wkts BBI BBM Ave Econ SR 4w 5w 10
Tests 5 8 1108 320 21 6/27 6/52 15.23 1.73 52.7 2 1 0
First-class 34 8878 3019 157 7/77 19.22 2.04 56.5 9 1
Career statistics Test debut Australia v England at Brisbane, Dec 1-5, 1950 scorecard
Last Test Australia v England at Melbourne, Feb 23-28, 1951 scorecard
First-class span 1949/50 - 1953/54
Profile
John Brian Iverson, who died in Melbourne on October 24, aged 58, was an unusual bowler who created something of a sensation during a brief career in Australian cricket. He bowled fast when at school, but took no part in cricket for twelve years afterwards. While on Army service in New Guinea, Big Jack, as he was known, developed a peculiar method of spinning the ball, which he gripped between his thumb and middle finger. This enabled him to bowl a wide variety of deliveries, including off-breaks, leg-breaks and googlies, without any change of action. He first attracted attention in big cricket in 1949-50 when he took 46 wickets for Victoria at an average cost of 16.12. In the following autumn with W. A. Brown"s team in New Zealand, he, in all matches, disposed of 75 batsmen at a cost of seven runs each and in the next Australian season, at the age of 35, he was chosen for his country against the England team captained by F. R. Brown. So perplexing did the visiting batsmen find the bowling of this tall man that in the Test series he obtained 21 wickets for 15.73 runs apiece, including six for 27 in the second innings of the third Test at Sydney. During the fourth Test at Adelaide he suffered an ankle injury when he trod on the ball. He played in only one game in each of the next two seasons and then gave up cricket altogether. Family commitments and his job in managing a real estate agency resulted in him disappearing from the first class cricket scene in 1951. However, he again played for Australia in three unofficial "Tests" played by a 1953-54 Commonwealth team. He later became a commentator for ABC radio.
In his early 50s Iverson developed atherosclerosis of the brain, which caused him to suffer from recurrent depression. He committed suicide with a gunshot wound to the chest aged 58.
Wisden Cricketers' Almanack
Nicknamed "Big Jake" and "Wrong-Grip Jake", Iverson's unique style caused Australian captain Lindsay Hassett, a fellow Victorian, to hide his action during training sessions for the national team. Hassett prohibited Iverson from bowling to New South Wales batsmen to prevent them from analysing his bowling action, making him more effective in Sheffield Shield matches for Victoria against New South Wales. This led to conflict with New South Wales batsmen. When Iverson was put on to bowl during the Tests, Hassett would remove Keith Miller, a New South Welshman, from his position at first slip and move him to mid on, so that he was standing behind Iverson and could not understand how Iverson's bowling action worked.
He explained his action thus:
I woke up to the fact that whichever direction I had my thumb pointing so would the ball break. .. If my thumb was pointed to the left or offside as I let the ball go, the result would be legbreak. If it pointed to the right or legside the result would be a wrong'un. If it pointed directly at the batsmen, it would be a topspinner.
His style was praised by one of his contemporaries, fellow Australian leg spinner Richie Benaud and national captain, who stated
"There have been plenty of spin bowlers around for more than a hundred years but the four, for me, who have broken the mould and made batsmen think seriously about what was coming down the pitch at them, have been Bernard Bosanquet, Jack Iverson, John Gleeson and Shane Warne."
in reference to Iverson's innovation which changed about spin bowling thinking among the cricket community
Friday, July 18, 2008
AEJ Collins
1899
AEJ Collins: a place in history
AEJ Collins: four afternoons, 628 runs © The Cricketer
In 1899 a 13-year-old orphan at Clifton College established a world record which stands to this day. Over four June afternoons, Arthur Edward Jeune Collins scored 628 not out in a junior house match, guaranteeing him cricketing immortality, saddling him with a reputation that haunted him for the rest of his brief life.
Collins's feat should be put into context. House matches were a part of public-school life in those days, and participants ranged from the keen to the no-hopers. The game itself was played on Clifton's Junior School field (used by those under 14) and the playing area was far from conventional. The ground was only 60 yards long, with the boundary on one side was formed by a wall some 70 yards away, while on the other the field sloped away towards the sanatorium in the distance. All hits down the hill had to be run, while other boundaries earned only two runs.
On Thursday, June 22, Collins, described as small, stockily-built, and fair haired, won the toss for Clarke's House against North House and chose to bat. In only 150 minutes that day, he reached 200 not out, being dropped when on 50, 100 and 140.
He resumed the following afternoon, and as news of his progress circulated, spectators, who had been watching the battle between the College and the Old Cliftonians on College Close, began to gather. The Bristol Evening News reported that Collins hit the ball "into Guthrie Road, sometimes into the churchyard, and not infrequently sending the ball away down towards the sanatorium for five or six."
At around 5.30 on the Friday - some five hours after he started - he overtook AE Stoddart's then world-record score of 485 to rapturous applause, and by the end of the second day he was unbeaten on 509. On the Friday his 309 runs had been made at over two runs a minute, and Clarke's House closed on 680 for 8.
After a weekend break - Saturday was the day for inter-school matches, and day boys, like Collins, would not have been in school, and Sunday a day of rest - the massacre resumed at Monday lunchtime. A large crowd gathered and Collins did not disappoint. In 55 minutes he scored 89 more, taking his score to 598, and surviving a fourth chance when on 556. Given that the ninth wicket fell early in the session, Collins had to thank Tom Redfern, the No. 11, for staying with him through to the close on 804 for 9.
The fourth day's play again got underway at 12.30, but the authorities extended the hours available for play in a bid to speed the end of the match. As crowds continued to gather and media interest escalated, the disruption to school life was considerable. Collins played his part, his approach described as "downright reckless" as he hit out, being dropped twice more when on 605 and 619. The slaughter was brought to an end when Redfern was caught at point for 13 - he and Collins had added 138 for the last wicket.
A plaque on the ground - now known as Collins' Piece - where the innings took place © The Cricketer
In all, Collins batted six hours 45 minutes, and his innings was made up of one six, four fives, 31 fours, 33 threes, 146 twos and 87 singles. The scorebook hangs in the pavilion at Clifton, but the task facing the scorers was unenviable and one of them, Edward Peglar, is reported to have said that Collins's score was "628, plus or minus twenty shall we say". Coincidentally, the other scorer was JW Hall, whose father had batted with Edward Tylecote in 1868 when he had set an early world-record score of 404 not out, also at Clifton College. In 1938, Hall wrote a letter to the Times in which he recalled: "The bowling probably deserved all the lordly contempt with which Collins treated it, sending a considerable number of pulls full pitch over the fives courts into the swimming baths to the danger of the occupants."
Faced with such a daunting total, exhausted by chasing leather, and probably desperate to restore some normality to their lives, North House were skittled for 87 in 90 minutes. Collins, who opened the bowling, took 7 for 33 in 21 five-ball overs. Play ended at the completion of the innings. On the Wednesday, the fifth day, North House again meekly surrendered, making 61 in a little over an hour, with Collins taking 4 for 30, as his side won by an innings and 688 runs.
For a while Collins was public property. "Today all men speak of him," wrote one newspaper. "He has a reputation as great as the most advertised soap: he will be immortalised." But even when the immediate impact waned, Collins was constantly reminded of his achievement.
He continued to play cricket (and rugby, boxing, rackets, cross-country, and swimming) and won a place in the Clifton XI in 1901 and 1902, with some success. He chose to follow an Army career, and that severely limited his sporting opportunities, and he never came close to playing first-class cricket, although as a lieutenant in the Royal Engineers he did make 58 and 36 against the Royal Artillery at Lord's in 1912. The following year, aged 27, he returned to England on leave, and played a few games for Old Cliftonians, scoring two hundreds during their annual cricket week.
Collins married Ethel Slater in the spring of 1914, and later that summer was sent to France when war broke out. He was killed in action during the first battle of Ypres on November 11 of that year. His two brothers also died during the war.
On the seventh day Collins rested
One hundred years ago this month 13-year-old Arthur Edward Jeune Collins entered cricket history. His passport was an innings of 628 not out, scored over four afternoons in a junior house match at Clifton College. No higher score had ever been made, nor, in any corner of the earth, has a higher been made since.
Around the world millions of games of cricket have been played since June 1899; in none of them has Collins' sextuple-century been matched, though he was run mighty close by Charles John Eady just over two years later, in Tasmania. Eady, playing for Break-o'-Day against Wellington at Hobart in March 1902, scored 566 in under eight hours.
Clifton College, although founded in 1862, had a thriving cricket tradition by the end of the 19th century, not only because W G Grace sent his sons there. The college ground, Clifton Close, had witnessed no fewer than 13 of W G's first-class hundreds for Gloucestershire in the County Championship. A Clifton schoolboy named Edward Tylecote had scored 404 not out on the Close in 1868, then the all-time highest individual total.
However, by the time Arthur Collins entered Clark's House as a new boy at Clifton in 1897, five higher quadruple-centuries had been made, including A C MacLaren's 1895 first-class record of 424 for Lancashire v Somerset, and A E Stoddart's 485 for Hampstead v The Stoics in 1886.
Furthermore, Clifton Close achieved literary immortality during Arthur's first year at the school when Henry Newbolt, an Old Cliftonian, published a slim volume of poems entitled Admirals All, which included the poem Vitai Lampada with its celebrated last line, "Play up! play up! and play the game!"
Arthur was born in India in 1885, the son of a judge in the Indian Civil Service. By the time he started at Clifton he was an orphan whose guardians lived in Tavistock, Devon. He was a reserved boy, short and stockily built, fair-haired and pale. He was remembered by contemporaries as one who led by example, rather than by inspiration, although paradoxically he was regarded as likely to fall short of the highest standards as a cricketer because of his recklessness at the crease.
A photograph of Arthur as a schoolboy reveals a serious, handsome countenance. He was academically bright, and popular. He was modest - throughout his life more annoyed than grateful for the attention his childhood feat brought him. He Played the Game.
A E J Collins led the Clark's House XI to face the North Town Junior XI in a game that began on Thursday, June 22, 1899. The boys (all around the ages of 12 or 13) were not playing on the sacred Close, but on a lesser school ground of irregular dimensions. Hitting the ball over short boundaries on three sides counted just two runs, and on the fourth there was no defined boundary at all, so all runs had to be fully run out.
Collins opened the batting and in the 2.5 hours of play that afternoon scored 200. On Friday he continued in even more commanding form. By the end of the second day he had passed Stoddart's record 485 and reached 509 not out, having been dropped on a mere 400 by 11-year-old Victor Eberle at point.
For some reason the game was not continued over the weekend, but resumed on Monday afternoon, after class. There was only time for 55 minutes' play, and Arthur advanced to 598, still undefeated at the close of play. None of his partners had contributed much in the way of runs, the No 7, Whitty, hit 42 to claim the next highest innings, but several hung around for quite a while as Collins moved serenely on. None more so than the last man, Tom Redfern, who came in with the score 698 for nine, of which his captain had made well over 500.
With much more cricket time on the half-holiday of Tuesday, June 27, Collins, with the dogged Redfern, added yet more to his mind-boggling total. His concentration was perhaps not what it was, for the hero was dropped in the slips at 605 and at square leg at 619. Shortly after the second reprieve, the youngest player on the field, Eberle, made himself highly unpopular with the crowd, hoping for the game's first 1,000, by catching Redfern at point. A E J was left stranded on 628 (out of 836).
His domination of the match nonetheless continued unabated. North Town were dismissed for 87 and 61, Collins taking 11 for 63 in the two innings. On the sixth day Clark's House wrapped things up by an innings and 688 runs. On the seventh day, no doubt, Arthur Collins rested, having become as instantly famous as it was possible to be in 1899.
The score of this truly epic innings survives, and while some have cast doubt upon the recording skills of the youthful scorers, there can be no doubt that Collins made well over 600. One scorer, Edward Peglar, in later years cast an "element of doubt on the last two digits of Collins' total" but stated that "the score was substantially correct - 628 plus or minus 20, shall we say".
So Arthur at worst made 608, and might even have reached 648. The exact figure really doesn't matter; the innings was indisputably the highest ever compiled and is rightly being celebrated at Clifton College 100 years on, with commemorative games, a dinner, a special coaching day and the manufacture of 628 special ties.
Unlike Eady and Stoddart, who actually played against each other in the 1896 Lord's Test, Collins never played first-class cricket. Indeed, he returned to the ranks of mortals in matters sporting. He played for the Clifton XI with some distinction, and for Old Cliftonian teams up until 1913. He became a soldier and played many Army cricket matches. He played once at Lord's, in 1912, scoring 58 and 36 for the Royal Engineers against the Royal Artillery. He was commissioned and returned to India. He married Ethel Slater in the spring of 1914, and barely four months later Lieutenant A E J Collins, RE, was one of the first to leave to fight in France. (Commander-in-Chief Earl Haig was also a Cliftonian.)
Many obituaries in the 1915 Wisden instil into the reader a shocking sense of wasted life, destroyed youth; none more so than that of Arthur Collins, killed in action in November 1914, aged 29.
© The Daily Telegraph
The boy who knew no boundaries
In June of 1899, A. E. J. Collins scored 628 not out, and by doing so established a world record that has stood ever since: The Highest Innings on Record.
By coincidence, Collins played his innings in a school match at Clifton College, where an earlier holder of the record, E. F. S. Tylecote, had made his score. However, as it was a junior house match, Collins played on the Junior School field, situated to one side of the college buildings, and not on the College Close, where senior games took place and where Tylecote made his 404 in 1868. The conditions for play were unusual. An Old Cliftonian described the Junior field in The Athletic News Weekly for July 3, 1899:
"It is 60 yards wide and 100 yards long. Then the ground abruptly slopes (down) nearly three feet ... As they (the wickets) were placed across the narrow section of the ground, there were only 19 yards behind each set of stumps. To the wall, square with them on one side was a distance of 70 yards, while on the other, down the slope . . . all hits had to be run out, there being practically no limit to the space in that direction, for the land shelves away to the sanatorium in the far corner."
Although two sides of the boundary were thus very near to the wicket, all boundary hits -- including those to the wall -- were worth only two runs. Collins, 13 years of age, was playing for Clark's House against North Town in a junior house match towards the latter end of the summer term, 1899. The game began on Thursday, June 22 at some time between 3 and 3.30 p.m. Collins won the toss for Clark's and, with Champion, went out to open the innings. He began quietly, not scoring particularly fast at first, but by the drawing of stumps at 6pm he was 200 not out. He was missed three times: a difficult chance in the outfield when about 50; a fairly easy chance to print at 110; and another difficult chance, this time to third man, at 140.
The next day play began at about the same time. Of course, little attention was being paid to the game at this stage. It was, after all, a relatively unimportant school match. Only a short distance away, though, a large crowd had assembled to watch the Clifton College v Old Cliftonian match on the Close. (This fixture was great event in the school's calendar; half holidays were given on the two days that it took place -- which is what enabled then to be play in the house match on Thursday and Friday.) Collins meanwhile was batting in brilliant fashion, and went quickly to his, third century. Gradually, as the news got around that a young lad was approaching Tylecote's college record, the big match ceased to be an attraction and everyone began crowding around the enclosure where the juniors played. When Collins passed 350 it was to cheers from the spectators. A man had been sent down by The Bristol Evening News to follow the Old Cliftonian game and he was able to clinch something of a scoop for the stop-press, although he listened to too much gossip:
"Collins, a lad under 10, put on runs at an extraordinary rate, and amid considerable enthusiasm he beat the school record of 404. In front of his suddenly-acquired audience Collins was not in the least nervous as he continued to collar the bowling. The brilliancy of his strokes and his reserves of energy -- he never seemed to tire -- were marvelled at. There he was driving the ball up against the college buildings, over the wall into Guthrie Road, and sometimes into St Emmanuel churchyard, and, not infrequently sending the ball away down towards the sanatorium for five or six."
Every landmark in his innings was being loudly signalled by the crowd. Collins was nearing the world record, but still the enthusiasm of the spectators, and his own natural desire to break A. E. Stoddart's record of 485, in no way affected his play". At 5.30, to great cheers -- though the batsman himself seemed quite unconcerned -- the record went. Collins was hitting with as much power as when he commenced and by the close at 6pm he was 509 not out. He had added 309 runs that afternoon in something over two-and-a-half hours, and had become the first batsman ever to score a half-thousand. The total was in the region of 680 for 8, after nearly five-and-a-half hours.
On Saturday the newspapers were full of the story of the wonderful cricket score made by a Clifton College boy. Rather amusingly, W. G. Grace, who had a regular column with The Bristol Mercury and Daily Post, had written an article that appeared that morning specifically about A. E. Stoddart and his 'world record score' of 485! The 13-year-old Collins was now the toast of the nation and the junior house match more talked about than the Test match starting in Leeds that Thursday.
(Owing to a long-standing error in Wisden that states Collins batted on five afternoons it has been supposed that there was play on Saturday. This was not the case. Collins's innings lasted only four afternoons; it was the match that lasted five. If for no other reason, play this day would be out of the question because North Town were day-boys and they would not be at school on Saturday -- even if it was only to play cricket!)
Collins resumed his innings on Monday after a break of two days. Usually one afternoon would have sufficed to see a march like this completed, but it was accepted practice that they were played to a finish, so this game now -- with no half-holidays left to assist -- had to continue when it could. This meant the hour's leisure that began at 12.30pm. Thus on Monday there was some 50 to 55 minutes' play. A large crowd gathered, and Collins batted superbly once more. He added 89 and took his score up to 598, giving one chance in the long-field when 566. A wicket had fallen quickly and the innings looked to be finished, but Redfern was the ideal last man. He gave admirable support and stayed to the close, at which point the tenth wicket had added 106, of which Redfern's share was 12.
The national press were lyrical about Collins the next morning. And The Guardian had got hold of his background:
"The hero of the match is an orphan, and was born in India, where his father was engaged in the Civil Service. He went to Clifton College in the winter term two years ago. He had been at school at Cowes and at Bath College previous to going to Clifton, and though he played cricket there, he has, he says, learnt eractically all his cricket at Clifton ... he is remaining there for four years longer, and then intends going to Woolwich. Standing in an easy way, he plays remarkably straight, but watches the ball sharply with his keen blue eyes, and seems as cool as a cucumber. His style suggests that he is a 'born cricketer', and he says he is fond of the game."
At 12.30 on Tuesday the game resumed once more, before another large attendance of spectators, Collins and Redfern going out to the wicket with the total at 804 for 9. All the players had probably by this time been urged to take a positive approach; world records were all very well but the disruption they caused to a school was considerable, and already one pupil could not call his life his own.
Play was extended beyond 1.30pm to help bring about a result. Collins took a two off the first ball he received to give him his 600, and he seemed ready to get a move on -- being 'downright reckless', giving chances at 605, to slip, and at 619. Redfern's was the wicket to fall though, caught at point, after 25 minutes' play, in which time Collins had added 30 and Redfern a single. Collins thus carried his bat for 628 through the innings of 836. North Town, shortly after, went in and were all out in 90 minutes for 87. Collins took 7 for 33 in 21 overs. They had their second innings on Wednesday afternoon and were bundled out for 61, Collins this time taking 4 for 30.
Collins, during his huge innings, had been batting about 6 hours 45 minutes, 6 hours 50 minutes at most. He gave six chances - probably more. On Friday everyone was so dazzled by his brilliant play that they failed one and all to remark on its purity. It seems that the fielding could not be criticised for lacking in effort, despite the ferocity of Collins's batting. His scoring strokes were given as: one six, four fives, 31 fours, 33 threes, 146 twos and 87 singles, but the scorebook is near-illegible in parts, crammed with figures, and these totals could well be wrong. It must have been a trying experience for the two scorers, E. W. Pegler and J. W. Hall. Apart from anything else, they were the only means the large crowd -- and the press -- had of knowing Collins's rapidly-changing score,
Hall, many years later, wrote: "I was myself (subject, I hope and believe, to checking by a master) the depressed and over-worked scorer for the losers during most, if not all, of that innings ... the bowling probably deserved all the lordly contempt with which Collins treated it, sending a considerable number of balls full pitch over the fives courts into the swimming bath to the danger of the occupants."
This was written in a letter to The Times in March 1938, prompted by the recent death of E. F. S. Tylecote. Hall's father, Henry Sinclair Hail, had actually batted with Tylecote during his innings of 404, and was at the wicket with him when he passed William Ward's celebrated score of 278.
The match was over, but the boy Collins found himself in ever-greater demand. He was pestered to death for portraits, photographs and interviews. Meanwhile, congratulations poured into the school for him, including one he must have prized above all: a letter and a bat from A. E. Stoddart. But it was Collins's fate to be constantly reminded of, and associated with, his 628. The score was so immense, its maker so diminutive, that the grotesqueness was, and is, compelling. Collins was, whether he liked it or not, famous. One contemporary newspaper got it right when it said:
"Collins at the age of 13 has sprung into worldwide fame. Who knew him a week ago except his schoolmates and his aunts? Today all men speak of him; he is a household word; he has a reputation as great as the most advertised soap; he will be immortalised in cricket guides; and his name will shine out conspicuously in the lists of records."
Notes
1. Probably through a mistake when the figures were first released to the press, Collins's score was initially given as 501 at the end of Friday's play, but later corrected to 509. This error led to confusion over how many runs Collins scored on Monday, his total varying according to what it was thought he had begun the day with. The alteration of Collins's score from 501 to 509 has also assisted the belief that there was a short period of play on Saturday.
2. At the time, the total at the end of Friday's play was always given as 650 for 8, but this seems to take no account of the extras scored to that point.
3. If there were two scorers, one for Clark's and one for North Town, presumably there were two scorebooks. Whether both remain in existence is another matter. One hangs in the cricket pavilion at Clifton College.
Simon Wilde
The late lamented
The late lamented
Frith brings to life a man who was as much a hero to Australians as Bradman
Mike Coward
April 26, 2008
The Archie Jackson Story is achingly sad. Even now, 75 years after his death, there remains a profound sense of loss at the passing of the man.
The death of a young person is always deeply distressing and Jackson was cruelly claimed by tuberculosis at the age of 23.
And, of course, he was not just any young person. He was a cricketer who had been kissed by the gods; a batsman who evoked in old men memories of the immortal Victor Trumper; a batsman who, dare it be said, stood comparison with Don Bradman.
When he scored his one Test century - on debut against England in Adelaide in February 1929 - the incorrigible legspinner, cartoonist, journalist and raconteur Arthur Mailey commented that it was Don Bradman's bad luck to have batted with a partner whose brilliance would have overshadowed any man.
As David Frith notes in his introduction: "In such premature death there is a danger that the legend becomes gilded: That is not the case here."
True, this is not the case. Frith, who has served the game with distinction as a historian, author, editor and archivist for many summers, has given Jackson more than an identity in this splendidly researched and warm account. He has gently and affectionately given life and personality to an uncomplicated and self-effacing young man who was as much a hero as Bradman to Australians of all ages from 1926-27 to that dreadful Bodyline summer of 1932-33.
Frith is a meticulous researcher and when he embarked on this most worthwhile project in the early 1970s he established a close rapport with Jackson's best mate, Bill Hunt, a left-arm medium pacer and slow bowler who played 18 times for New South Wales and once for Australia, against South Africa in 1931-32. Hunt, who died in 1983 at the age of 75, provided Frith with priceless insights into the life of Jackson and his family and social intimates.
Jackson played only seven more Test matches after his tour de force at Adelaide at the age of 19 years and 152 days. His health began to deteriorate on the tour of England in 1930 and he died at Albion, Brisbane on February 16, 1933 as England took an unassailable lead in the Bodyline series at the nearby Gabba. His body was taken back to Sydney in the same coach of the mail train that carried the solemn Test cricketers of Australia and England.
At least in the pages of cricket literature Jackson is assured a long life. And for that we are all a little richer.
From the book:
The second coming of Trumper had been short-lived, but the course of cricket history was changed by a few degrees. When Jackson's summers were gone forever, men, women and children grieved. A torrent of words came forth in the vain wish to do justice to the young man and his deeds. Then life went on again, almost as before, leaving only photographs, grey columns of prose, a few handwritten letters, and, over a plot of Australia's hard brown earth, a gravestone on which the inscription proclaims with beautiful simplicity: "He played the game."
The Archie Jackson Story
by David Frith
The Cricketer, 1974
Frith brings to life a man who was as much a hero to Australians as Bradman
Mike Coward
April 26, 2008
The Archie Jackson Story is achingly sad. Even now, 75 years after his death, there remains a profound sense of loss at the passing of the man.
The death of a young person is always deeply distressing and Jackson was cruelly claimed by tuberculosis at the age of 23.
And, of course, he was not just any young person. He was a cricketer who had been kissed by the gods; a batsman who evoked in old men memories of the immortal Victor Trumper; a batsman who, dare it be said, stood comparison with Don Bradman.
When he scored his one Test century - on debut against England in Adelaide in February 1929 - the incorrigible legspinner, cartoonist, journalist and raconteur Arthur Mailey commented that it was Don Bradman's bad luck to have batted with a partner whose brilliance would have overshadowed any man.
As David Frith notes in his introduction: "In such premature death there is a danger that the legend becomes gilded: That is not the case here."
True, this is not the case. Frith, who has served the game with distinction as a historian, author, editor and archivist for many summers, has given Jackson more than an identity in this splendidly researched and warm account. He has gently and affectionately given life and personality to an uncomplicated and self-effacing young man who was as much a hero as Bradman to Australians of all ages from 1926-27 to that dreadful Bodyline summer of 1932-33.
Frith is a meticulous researcher and when he embarked on this most worthwhile project in the early 1970s he established a close rapport with Jackson's best mate, Bill Hunt, a left-arm medium pacer and slow bowler who played 18 times for New South Wales and once for Australia, against South Africa in 1931-32. Hunt, who died in 1983 at the age of 75, provided Frith with priceless insights into the life of Jackson and his family and social intimates.
Jackson played only seven more Test matches after his tour de force at Adelaide at the age of 19 years and 152 days. His health began to deteriorate on the tour of England in 1930 and he died at Albion, Brisbane on February 16, 1933 as England took an unassailable lead in the Bodyline series at the nearby Gabba. His body was taken back to Sydney in the same coach of the mail train that carried the solemn Test cricketers of Australia and England.
At least in the pages of cricket literature Jackson is assured a long life. And for that we are all a little richer.
From the book:
The second coming of Trumper had been short-lived, but the course of cricket history was changed by a few degrees. When Jackson's summers were gone forever, men, women and children grieved. A torrent of words came forth in the vain wish to do justice to the young man and his deeds. Then life went on again, almost as before, leaving only photographs, grey columns of prose, a few handwritten letters, and, over a plot of Australia's hard brown earth, a gravestone on which the inscription proclaims with beautiful simplicity: "He played the game."
The Archie Jackson Story
by David Frith
The Cricketer, 1974
Saturday, January 26, 2008
A better batsman than Bradman?
Don Bradman's name is almost as famous as the game itself. But, for an all-too-brief time at the start of his international career, it appeared likely that
Although he was a year younger, Archie Jackson burst onto the cricket world a year before Bradman. He made his first-class bow aged 17, scoring 86 on his debut and exactly a hundred in his second outing a week later.
It was Bradman, however, who played for
the infamous Bodyline series in 1932-33,
He toured
But while Bradman, whose career was also blighted by illness, went from strength to strength,
A hundred at
But
He was picked for the first NSW match of 1931-32 but was caught in a rainstorm, and collapsed in his hotel room coughing up blood shortly before the team left for the ground. He was rushed to hospital, but believing he had flu, discharged himself.
|
| |
At the insistence of the Australian board he was taken to a sanatorium but proved a poor patient. Restless, he often sneaked off into
He resumed playing grade cricket in
Still, buoyed by newspaper reports, the public clamoured for him to be included in one of the representative sides to meet the MCC. Those close to him knew his body would never hold up to the strain.
He started writing articles for Brisbane's Daily Mail and told friends he harboured a belief that he would be fit enough to return to England on Australia's 1934 tour.
He was still playing for his club at the start of 1933, but by then he was so breathless than he had to use a runner. His last innings was on January 22. With his former NSW team-mate Cassie Andrews running for him, he made 77 in 94 minutes, telling a friend that he was "still in pretty good form".
On February 1, almost four years to the day since his Test debut, he collapsed again and was rushed to hospital. The tuberculosis had spread to both lungs, and his family, still in
On February 10 the fourth Test started a few miles down the road at the Gabba. A number of players visited him before and during the match but it was clear he was dying. On February 15, with
That day he lapsed in and out of consciousness. Shortly after midnight he asked for the Test score and was told
With flags flying at half-mast, the teams took to the field at the Gabba later that morning wearing black armbands.
|
| |
Forgotten genius
He was rated better than Bradman, scored 164 on his Ashes debut for Australia
He made a sensational Test debut in the Ashes for
Archie Jackson, the third of four children by Sandy and Margaret, was born in Rutherglen on September 5, 1909. His father, trying to support a growing family and having spent part of his formative years in
Sport was part of
Archie was also a useful footballer, but as he lived just 100 yards from
In his book Archie Jackson, The Keats of Cricket, David Frith describes the day that the cricket-mad Jackson and his mates experienced Test cricket for the first time when
“They wagged off school at lunchtime, hopped on to a hearse on its way to the city, and spent their threepence lunch money to get into the ground, where they watched the international stars play and went hungry.” The experience left a lasting impression on the 11-year-old boy and gave him the desire to succeed at cricket.
Blessed with a natural batting ability, his style and elegance put many in mind of the legendary Victor Trumper who had dominated the Australian scene for a decade and a half.
In 1924, he made his first-grade debut for Balmain only one month after his 15th birthday. The stick-thin lad with the over-sized pads and a full-size bat may have looked a comical sight, but he quickly won the respect of the opposition attack and the crowd, displaying the guts and courage to go with his ability.
In the build-up to his debut for New South Wales in 1926, he came up against another precocious teenager from the rural town of Bowral who was creating his own wave of anticipation — Don Bradman. Although a year younger than the Bowral Boy,
On that NSW debut against
It wasn’t until the crucial 1928-29 season that Bradman, for the first time, eased ahead in the pecking order, securing a place in an ageing Australian side for the first Test against
It was a blisteringly hot day,but he went on to finish on 164, destroying the English attack with some exquisite shots. At the end, he left the field to a standing ovation.
Despite those heroics,
Once in
Archie also caught up with uncle James and his family in Scotland, and although he was not called upon to bat in Australia’s official match with Scotland at Raeburn Place in Edinburgh, a couple of days later he was delighted to get a chance at Hamilton Crescent, Glasgow, only a few miles from his birthplace. At the time, Bradman was fresh from his world record 334 in the third Test at
Spoiled by Bradman’s fireworks, the crowd then goodnaturedly barracked their own cricket hero, who took it in good humour and went on to make a solid 52 not out.
Dropped for the fourth Test,
But his was a brief career.
By the end of the year, although he was so ill he could only watch from the sidelines, he still managed to write about the infamous 1932-33 Bodyline series for the Daily Mail. But during the fourth Test on February 10, 1933, he collapsed and was admitted to the
Hours later,
The Archie Jackson story
Harold Larwood
|
| |
When first approached to write a foreword I politely refused. However, it was explained by this persistent fellow that he had spent considerable time researching on a cricketer he believed I must have admired. I asked who this could be? His reply left me humbled, for it was none other than Archie Jackson.
It hit me just about as hard as Archie did that day at Adelaide in 1929 when, in his first Test innings for Australia, with 97 runs against his name and having had his back to the wall, he cover-drove me to bring up his hundred. That ball was delivered as fast as any I had ever bowled previously.
That glorious stroke has lived in my memory to this day for its ease and perfect timing. I am sure that few among the many thousands present sighted the ball as it raced to the boundary.
I personally had a very great admiration for Archie, and I am sure we `Poms' counted him as one of us. He never failed to congratulate the bowler or fieldsman whenever he was dismissed by a good ball, and at the same time he would be the first to let you know when he thought you were not bowling so well. He would say: `You must have had a late one last night, Harold!'
He was always friendly, no matter the tenseness of the situation - you just had to find a place in your heart for a fellow like him. The respect he showed for others grew on you.
I remember once, in
I never knew him to flinch or complain at any time.
No, Archie Jackson, like his hero Victor Trumper, was born to be great, and great he was, for he received the same respect from us `Poms' as from his own team.
But we had a feeling that something was amiss with this young fellow in 1930. Those of us who were closely associated with him knew that the English climate did not suit him; he was not himself. He still batted with the same charm that only he was capable of, but it was apparent that he was not the same Archie as that of 1928-29.
One of my most cherished possessions to this day is a personal telegram sent to me by Archie while undoubtedly a very sick boy in Brisbane; it congratulated me on my bowling in that controversial Test of 1933. At the time he must have been very close to meeting his Maker, but he was still conscious enough to remember an old friend.
I remember also a number of us Englishmen visiting Archie in the private hospital in
It was hard to believe. We knew that our loss was
Adapted from The Archie Jackson Story by David Frith, published in 1974 in a limited edition of 1000, and out of print since 1975.
Archie Jackson
Australia
Full name Archibald Jackson
Born September 5, 1909, Rutherglen, Lanarkshire, Scotland
Died February 16, 1933, Clayfields, Brisbane, Queensland (aged 23 years 164 days)
Major teams
Also known as Archibald Alexander Jackson
Batting style Right-hand bat
Bowling style Right-arm offbreak
Education Rozelle School
| Mat | Inns | NO | Runs | HS | Ave | 100 | 50 | 6s | Ct | St | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Tests | 8 | 11 | 1 | 474 | 164 | 47.40 | 1 | 2 | 0 | 7 | 0 |
| First-class | 70 | 107 | 11 | 4383 | 182 | 45.65 | 11 | 23 | 26 | 0 |
| Mat | Inns | Balls | Runs | Wkts | BBI | BBM | Ave | Econ | SR | 4w | 5w | 10 | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Tests | 8 | - | - | - | - | - | - | - | - | - | - | - | - |
| First-class | 70 | 86 | 49 | 0 | - | - | - | 3.41 | - | 0 | 0 | 0 |
| Test debut | Australia v England at Adelaide, Feb 1-8, 1929 scorecard |
| Last Test | Australia v West Indies at Melbourne, Feb 13-14, 1931 scorecard |
| Test statistics | |
| First-class span | 1926/27 - 1930/31 |
| Notes |
| Profile |
There are those who argue to this day that had he lived, Archie Jackson would have rivaled Don Bradman as the greatest batsman off all time. Jackson's death from tuberculosis at the tragically young age of 23 meant that he gave only glimpses of what might have been. Jackson was a graceful batsman, his innings punctuated by delicate leg-glances, wristy flicks through the covers and exquisite footwork. He made his debut for New South Wales at the age of 17, and within a year was touring New Zealand with Australia, although he had to wait until the fourth Ashes Test of 1928-29 to make his Test debut. In it he hit 164 and a remarkable career beckoned. He struggled for form on the 1930 tour of England, his courageous 73 at The Oval when he added 243 for the fourth wicket with Bradman a rare highlight. But his successes were made against the backdrop of his failing health, and his appearances grew rarer. He died on February 16, 1933, the day that England regained the Ashes in the Bodyline series.
Martin Williamson
Wisden obituary
JACKSON, MR. ARCHIBALD, the New South Wales and Australian Test cricketer, died at Brisbane on February 16, the day that England defeated Australia and regained the Ashes, at the early age of 23. His passing was not only a very sad loss to Australian cricket in particular but to the cricket world in general. A native of Scotland, where he was born on September 5, 1909, he was hailed as a second Victor Trumper--a comparison made alike for his youthful success, elegant style and superb stroke play. Well set up, very active on his feet, and not afraid to jump in to the slow bowlers and hit the ball hard, he accomplished far more in big cricket than Trumper had done at his age. He first attracted attention when at school at Balmain, Sydney, and later at the Roselle School. So quickly did he mature that, at the age of seventeen, he gained an assured place in the New South Wales team. In his first season of Sheffield Shield cricket he scored 464 runs at an average of 58; next year he achieved a feat no other batsman of his age had performed, by making two centuries in a match--131 and 122 against South Australia. For a time Jackson had something of a reputation of being a second innings batsman, for often he failed at his first attempt and then made a good score in the second innings. This weakness, however, he overcame and he soon established himself as an opening batsman for New South Wales. Given his place in the Australian team when the M.C.C. side, under the captaincy of Mr. A. P. F. Chapman, toured Australia in 1928-29, Jackson, on his first appearance in Test cricket against England, made a hundred--the youngest player to do so. This was at Adelaide where in the Fourth Test Match, which England won by 12 runs, he scored 164. For sheer brilliance of execution his strokes during this delightful display could scarcely have been exceeded. He reached three figures with a glorious square drive off Larwood in the first over after lunch and was one of the very few Australian batsmen who during that tour could successfully jump in and drive J. C. White. An innings of 182 in the Australian Test Trial--regarded as the finest he ever played--made certain of his inclusion in the team which visited England in 1930. Unfortunately, English cricket lovers did not in that tour see Jackson at his best, for although he scored over 1,000 runs he failed to reveal his true form until towards the end of the summer. Then, in the final Test Match at the Oval, he put together a score of 73 and helped Bradman in a partnership of 243 for the fourth wicket which still stands as a record in a Test Match between Australia and England. Jackson, of course, never saw Trumper play, but Kippax, in style and stance and in some strokes, was not unlike Trumper; and Jackson, consciously or unconsciously, and while giving full play to his natural tendencies, took Kippax as his model. He had a splendid return from the deep field and, if not so fast a runner as Bradman, covered ground very quickly. His later years were marred by continued ill-health and his untimely end was not unexpected. While lying in hospital on what was to prove his death-bed he was married*.
Wisden Cricketers' Almanack
* This is incorrect - he got engaged while in hospital.
Forgotten Greats of Cricket
The game of cricket has seen numerous great cricketers since the first Test match between
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
