Cricket
Prospects
Alan Gibson
As the new season gets under way, I permit myself one cheerful thought. The weather ought to get better. We have had four wet and often cold seasons. Back in 1976, you may remember, we suffered from intense heat and drought. Never in modern history were so many fervent prayers for rain uttered. There was once a Welsh preacher, famous for his power in prayer. He led his flock to the top of neighbouring hill, in a time of drought. With his 'Amen', the first drop of rain fell. Six months later it was still pelting down. Once more they went to the hilltop, though they had to travel most of the way by boat, so deep were the floods. 'Lord,' cried the preacher, 'we praise and bless Thee for thy bounteous rain . . but for St David's sake, Lord, have a bit of common.' That is the prayer of cricketers just now.
Another, though lesser,reason for a touch of optimism is that it is an Australian year. Even though the West Indies might be good enough, at present, to beat England and Australia combined, Australia are the original rivals, and the country we most like to beat. It is the oldest major international cricket contest (I put in the word 'major' because the United States first played Canada in 1844, 33 years before what is now reckoned to be the first Test match between England and Australia). There is not quite the same excitement about an Australian tour as there used to be. Test matches are played far too often. It will be the fifth time in seven years that we have seen, for one reason or another, an Australian side, and we are too familiar with them. The magic of my youth— when Australia came once every four years, and as soon as a tour was over we began discussing prospects for the next — has departed. In those days an Australian tour was a great event, eagerly expected. In the Star at High Littleton I was recently asked, 'Who's coming over this year, then?' and when I said,'Australia' ,the response was a bored, `Oh, them again'. This endless proliferation of Test matches (we are to have six of them this season) is done in the sacred name of money; but it will get its comeuppance in another decade or two. There is such a thing as the doctrine of diminishing returns.
It is rather sad, except to the severest partisan, that Greg Chappell has decided not to come. Apart from his grandeur as a batsman, he was well liked in Somerset, when he played for them. His behaviour in the last-ball 'grubber' incident seemed uncharacteristic. It will be fine to see Lillee again, as soon as he recovers from his bout of pneumonia, and so long as he does not begin the bowling in the first Test with an aluminium ball. And there will be Marsh: few Englishmen have grown to love him, but he has acquired the status granted to ageing and valorous warriors. Hughes, who has succeeded to the captaincy, is certainly an attractive batsman, and the kind of man who suggests we might have a goodtempered series. They have brought over four fast bowlers and only two spinners. This will not increase the interest in the play except for those who like blood. In 1934, Australia brought over three leg-spinners, and two fast bowlers. Of the fast bowlers, Wall was not a severe menace (I was sorry to read, recently, of the death of this faithful worker, who did not rank as high as he might have done, because he followed Gregory into the Australian side, and Larwood was the English fast bowler in the earlier part of his career) and Ebeling only played in the last Test because Wall was unfit. Grimmett and O'Reilly, leg-spinners, were the men who won Australia that series. It is true that they had Bradman, but England would have saved the series comfortably had it not been for Grimmett and O'Reilly. Fleetwood-Smith, the third legspinner, took a hundred wickets in an English season, but could not get in the Test team.
Well, that was long ago, when cricket was much more interesting. We shall see nothing of the kind this summer. I see that Bill Bowes, in the current Cricketer, has come out strongly for extending the leg-before law to the leg side, in the hope that it might bring the leg-spinner back into the game. This would be a good idea, and might help, but leg-spin is not the fashion of the modern cricket world. We live in an age of recession (which means, 'I don't know whose fault it is, but it's damned well not mine'). Keep it tight, keep the seamers on. If you can run to a fast bowler, even if he comes from Taiwan or San Francisco, grab him. Someone who can knock their heads off. They will have to wear more protective gear, of course, but that will be good for business. We can get `Superhelmee and ‘Superbox' to pay a lot for the prime advertising placards (so long as the match is covered by the telly).
Another good thing is that a hundred overs will now have to be bowled (with any necessary deductions for weather) on a Test match day; also, the hundred-overs firstinnings limit in the county championship, which has done much to ruin English middle-order batting, has been abolished. An even better thing would be if the counties pluck up their courage and carry out the intended limitation of overseas registrations. I bet they will flinch from it. They are trying to dodge it already, by registering overseas players as Englishmen, under the barmy regulations. It does not matter whether a county wins the championship or not. Hell, Jam sounding like Sir Pelham Warner: it does matter whether they preserve the sporting spirit, and fidelity to their counties, and countries, more than temporary success. Professional cricketers have brief lives, and share everyone's tendency to greed. A few at the top are taking a disproportionate part of the game's profits (thanks to the sponsors and the agents). The ordinary run of county cricketers do not do too well, though it must be pointed out that Jack Simmons of Lancashire, a thoroughly genial and admirable chap, but never good enough to play for England, has recently received a taxfree benefit, getting on for £100,000, Even in the days of inflation, this ought to set him up for a while.
But still, however one may grouse while waiting at Didcot for a cold and damp day in the parks, I look forward to the summer, damn it.
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