A match of the one-armed v the one-legged, the bail that flew 211 yards, and other tales
Zeeshan Mahmud29-May-2015Sometimes life forces us to acknowledge matters which otherwise we wouldn’t have. One such nudge came in the form of rummaging through my bookshelves after I was forced to look for the biography of a mathematician named Tarski. A book by Neville Cardus fell on my lap, and I realised that I possessed a miniature heavenly library of cricket books, enough to make many fans envious.I slowly stacked up the volumes and what emerged was a collection of books and a necessary attachment that bogged me down. Along with my numismatics and philately collections besides some vintage editions, these books were indispensable and I knew I had to tug them along everywhere I go. Honestly, I did not mind. As I glanced down the stack, a plethora of visual montages bombarded me like a paranormal artist gleaning information solely from psychometry. Here are some memories from the books I’ve read:Alletson’s innings
For some reason this got fried in my braincells. My first love was a book by Andrew Ward, Cricket’s Strangest Matches. A dream book par excellence, it combined quirky tales with a generous dosage of cricket history. It did not have photos – which in my opinion makes a book cheesy rather than realistic – and ascribed to a painter’s interpretation on the cover, befitting a vintage idealism.My vade mecum, I carried it everywhere and even in my cabin baggage in case my luggage gets misplaced. I remember Ted Alletson’s name because he played a brutal innings for Nottinghamshire against Sussex in Hove in May 1911, which viscerally came to life in the author’s words. At lunch on the third and final day, Nottinghamshire were 260 for 9 in their second innings, leading only by nine. The legend goes that Alletson, who was unbeaten on 47, asked his skipper if it really mattered how he played with a wicket to go. Jones replied that it did not. Upon getting the green light, what followed next was total massacre:
Tim Killick’s last over (which included 2 no balls) yielded 34 runs to a rampant Alletson (the record until Sobers smashed 36 off Nash). However, the two new bowlers introduced immediately after the over, Cox and Relf did seem to contain Alletson a bit, but Alletson was beginning to hit them as well when he was caught at the boundary (all reports say that the fielder was actually outside the boundary). In the course of 5 consecutive overs- 3 from Killick & 2 from Leach, Alletson scored 97 runs out of a 100. Notts was all out for 412 & nearly won the game as Sussex hung on for a draw at 213-8, needing 237 to win.
I learnt of matches such as one-armed v one-legged, smokers v non-smokers, and when both teams were out for nought. I advertised the book everywhere and even though sceptics would squint their brow, the fact remains Ted Alletson’s innings is forever immortalised in history.A hundred-year old who played cricket
Speaking of apocryphal stories, although was my first book, it was soon followed by the purchase of a couple more from eBay and Amazon. The paper-thin kept me awake with many factoids, but what amused me most was a certain William Adlam who played cricket at the ripe age of 104 in Taunton, Somerset, in 1888.Needless to say, when combing through such a thin opus, one should always take anecdotes such as this one with a grain of salt. But it also puzzles me, why would one otherwise tuck in a false memory among other air-tight facts? Google I did, but I could not find any leads to this mystery.The tale of the one-legged batsman
Steve Waugh stole the show after pulling a calf muscle and being carried off the field in a stretcher at Trent Bridge. Far from being fully fit, he would promptly return to take part in the tour later on, and it seemed that through sheer willpower he limped his way to a century at The Oval. It was inevitable that I would learn of this forgotten tale after ordering the by Mark Baldwin.Although was filled with many fun facts, such as Alvin Kallicharran being given not-out in a run-out decision after two-and-a-half hours of deliberation or say Geoffrey Boycott carrying his bat in Perth in 1979 to remain 99 not out, another book that accompanied it was also filled with such delights.It is Nick Callow’s . Every time I read this treasure trove, I always find some new hidden gems.Of the Golden Age
I knew that James Southerton was the oldest debutant, but Callow’s book caught my imagination for the chief reason of introducing Wilfred Rhodes’ name. Rhodes played a Test in Kingston in 1930 at 52 years and 165 days against West Indies. As the entry has it:
The Yorkshire all rounder went from playing number 11 in his debut Test […] to opening the Test batting with Jack Hobbs.
The flying bail of Morcom of Cambridge
A long break would follow before I picked up any cricket books. Gradually, I was getting disenchanted of an unknown sport in a testosterone-driven American culture. However, it was in America, from a used bookstore, that I would buy a book to learn of Morcom.Again, it may be an exaggeration, but due credit must still be given if one were to consider the tale fictitious. In his pages that paid homage to fast bowlers, Learie Constantine writes in how one Morcom of Cambridge bowled with such speed that the bail flew 211 yards to hit a spectator.This still remains a record, and this I will never forget as I read it in an otherwise gloomy evening, in the parking lot of a shopping mall, with mom away for picking grocery.Ball caught on knife
In the meantime, I also received my first when Dad came back from Calcutta with my list of cricket books to be bought. Imagine my thrill upon thumbing through my first . It surely wasn’t like my first love but it was a ! If reading fine prints can be a pain in the bottom, then I was a serene yogi on bed of nails. But it’s not any of the tales featured in the 2013 edition that remain etched in my mind. The association the yellow brick always brings to my mind is about the story of how a ball got caught on a knife in the crowd, which I found from “Index of unusual occurrences” of another .Vultures prowling
Dad also brought me , which always made me cringe because it was elementary, as if cut for a school boy. To add to that, it had a foreword by Harsha Bhogle, a not-so favourite commentator of mine. This book does, however, take me back to Saqlain Mushtaq’s bowling when he had the whole field up close in one shot: the bowler, the umpire, the two batsmen, and ten fielders in a vulpine manner.The American Lillee
Another book I quickly picked up was , edited by Ramachandra Guha. Ralph Barker’s essay on Bart King remains my favourite. It would not do any justice to his style and prose to reproduce his piece in a span of few words and I strongly urge others to check out the incredible showmanship of Bart King.And finally, the maestro himself: Neville Cardus.Of rope dancers and snake charmers
How I envied others for possessing vintage cricket books, that I forgot I was sitting on a goldmine myself. When I saw in the used bookstore and immediately knew I had to have it, and pounced on it.Apart from unbelievably beautiful illustrations and vintage names, the master’s inimitable style can only be appreciated firsthand. It is lamentable that authors sacrifice the fluff and flower in favour of austere, if not downright dull, dour and insipid technical details in their writing. To infuse a little bit of life in an otherwise stale world of cricket literature, I leave you with the of cricket writing himself:
“He’s no batsman,” said the Australian George Giffen, “he’s a conjuror!” When he turned approved science upside down and changed the geometry of batsmanship to an esoteric legerdemain, we were bewitched to the realms of rope-dancers and snake-charmers; this was a cricket of Oriental sorcery, glowing with a dark beauty of its own, a beauty with its own mysterious axis and balance. Bowlers threw up their hands to high heaven as he made his passes of flexible willow and they say their thunderbolts enchanted from the middle stump to the fine-leg boundary – it was like a shooting star, all wrong in our astronomy, but right and splendid in some other and more dazzling stellar universe. “‘e never made a Christian stroke in ‘is life, ‘ said an old Yorkshire cricketer. And why should he have? His name was not Grace but Kumar Shri Ranjitsinhji.
