Rendered forever memorable
P. J. Kavanagh One hundred and thirty-seven years of Wisden come to life as we relive some of the most dramatic and strangest moments of cricket history in this entertaining jour- ney through the pages of the most famous sports book in the world.' For once the blurb has got it just about right. A series of actors read accounts of cricket matches and of cricketers — from W. G. Grace to Graeme Hick — which are interspersed with oddly appropriate snatches of clarinet music, jolly and mournful at the same time, which is the right tone for cricket.
It is also, incidentally, an 'entertaining journey' through recent English prose. The journalistic formalities of the past, or, some might say, the discarded pomposities, cre- ate as much nostalgia as the descriptions of the games: Wilfred Rhodes had 'improved out of knowledge', and his record 'still obtains': some other occasion (there are six hours of these tapes) 'was rendered forever memorable'. We don't write like that any- more and it is pleasurable to be reminded that our fathers did. They could be just as truthful. Wilfred Rhodes was 'not a man known for affability', which tells us all. His habit was to 'natter' on the field. Neville Cardus (I think it was; the rewind-button is not easy for fmgers more accustomed to turning pages) defined 'natter' as 'talking to oneself with the intention of being over- heard', which must have been unsettling, and subtler than what is now called 'sledg- ing'. And why is it called that? You half expect to hear an etymological analysis of the word, because no detail is too small for examination, which is the point of Wisden, and of cricket.
The Almanack has been going for 137 years, and the three pairs of double-sided 'Next, the actual costume used in The Emperor's New Clothes. ' tapes are called '137 Not Out', 'Tea in the Pavilion' and 'Overseas Tour', but all fol- low the same formula — player profiles, match accounts, oddities — and are read by the same actors. It would be good to know which of them reads 'Notes by an Editor' during the reign of Norman Pre- ston, because he is perfect. Preston's Notes range from the regretfully admonitory to the righteously indignant, from the Olympian to the congratulatory, and always with an old-world courtesy that a bad actor might be tempted to send up, as they so often do when reading anything written in a period not their own.
There is continuity — Jack Hobbs played against W. G. Grace — and there is change: the first teams were of twelve and sometimes took on 22. Overs consisted of four balls and batsmen scored a strange number of 'fives'. Either the fielding was more lethargic or fives became sixes, we are not told. After the abandonment of breeches and three-cornered hats edged with gold lace the England team wore white shirts with pink spots. If only David Gower had known that.
There were gimmicks then, as now. In 1879 a match was played on ice, by moon- light: scores, 15 and 17. There was crowd trouble — 'unseemly conduct of some per- sons', 'an immoderate expression of feel- ing', 'thought must be given to the abandonment of this fixture altogether unless the crowd could control itself, ('Eton v. Harrow', 1872). And ah, yes, how well we recognise the summing-up of the Test series of 1921: 'England were not only beaten, but overwhelmed.'
There are amusing oddities. In South Africa an Australian hit a six which landed in a pitch-side pan frying calamari. It was ten minutes before the ball was cool enough for the fat to be wiped off and it still remained too greasy to bowl with. You learn surprising personal details: the great Richie Benaud barely made it as a crick- eter at all, he fractured his skull as a boy: the youthful Imran Khan broke his arm so badly that during his whole career he had difficulty holding a cricket bat; a safe bet that neither ever let their opponents know these things.
Peter Roebuck has a touching piece about the enigma Graeme Hick, 'The light that flickered'. Hick's journey was
a search for contentment and simplicity and he found it at home, with his family. It may sound like a defeat but it isn't a defeat at all. Indeed, it is a sort of victory.
Nobly spoken.
It is all great stuff for anyone interested, ideal for playing in the car when driving through January rain, or after hearing that England are next-to-nothing for ten, and Hick safely back with his family.
Mr Punch Audio £9.99 each, 120 minutes. To order all three for only £21.97 post free in the UK call The Spectator Bookshop on 0870 155 7288.
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