SPECTATOR SPORT
Eeyore in flannels
Simon Barnes
THERE is a story about Angus Fraser bowling for England in a Test match against the West Indies last winter. He took the wicket of Brian Lara and went abso- lutely, and quite uncharacteristically, berserk. Naturally his team mates moved in to congratulate him, but this time he really did take an awful lot of catching.
`Nice wicket,' they told him when at last they got hold of him, 'Brian Lara and all that, jolly good.' Bugger Lara,' Fraser told them. 'I've now taken more Test match wickets than Ray Illingworth.' Fraser was the hero of that tour, and went on to become the hero of this summer. England has, unbelievably, won two successive Test matches and, with them, the series against South Africa.
Fraser took five wickets in three successive innings and three more in the final innings as England, against all expectation, finished the job and won a major series for the first time in 12 years. Yet Ray Illingworth, as chief selector, manager and coach, hated having Fraser around and had failed to pick him again and again as England, under his rule, went through the most appalling and chaotic passage in cricketing history.
If this series win indicates that England is at last beginning to push back the tide of defeatism, muddled thinking and inevitable disaster, it was entirely appropriate that Fraser should be the man at the sharp end. He has always been a thoroughly old-fash- ioned-looking cricketer, filled with thor- oughly old-fashioned virtues.
But Illingworth hated Fraser because he looked so bad on television. He is a glori- ously unglamorous sportsman, a huge man who carries with him a huger burden of weariness. Whichever end he bowls it is always uphill and into the wind. The first ball of the day always looks a ball too far.
The only emotion he ever shows is an occasional heartfelt kick at the hated turf when overcome with self-disgust. He is the world's gloomiest cricketer: Eeyore in flan- nels. He looks less like an athlete than any other player in the game, with hands and
feet far too big even for his colossal frame. He walks with a permanent stoop, as if car- rying an invisible rucksack filled with a thousand copies of Illingworth's greatest book, One Man Committee. (There was no irony, still less self-mockery, in his choice of this title.)
Fraser was born middle-aged. When he first played county cricket as a boy, he was already a wily old pro. He was, from the first, grudging, mean and carping, a man to whom every run conceded was sheer physical torture.
And captain after captain has turned to Fraser with thanks and relief because he hands them that most priceless of things in a cricket match: control. Let others of more extravagant gifts provide fireworks; Fraser is about consistency. And there are times when consistency is not only the highest form of achievement, but also of courage.
Stalky called Beetle 'a desponding brute', and the phrase fits Fraser to perfection. But Fraser has elevated the part of miser- able old git to the highest pinnacle of achievement for himself and his team. Eng- land winning a Test series! Whatever next? Fraser smiling? Oh, but he smiled all right, when it was all over. Wearily.
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