May 14th
Lester Martin’s dad once played for England: just the once in 1947, but he did, he really did, and Lester still sported the England sweater to prove it. Jack Martin was a burly fast bowler for Kent, called up in his country’s time of need, and junked, like a politician, immediately thereafter. Lester was captain of my school’s under 15. I was his deputy. I didn’t have a dad who’d played for England, after all – but don’t get the feeling I’m in any way bitter about this forty years on. And the one match I captained, when Lester was ill, we beat the City of London School easily, thanks to my unusual and cunning bowling changes. (City of London all out 57: P. Wootton four wickets for three runs, Cross three for seven) I don’t remember us winning any others that season.
Anyway, leaving personal animus to one side, one great thing Lester did was to get me the autograph of Les Ames. If I hadn’t carelessly mislaid it in my late teens it would still be a treasured possession.
Ames was probably the best wicketkeeper/batsman Kent and England ever produced, playing regularly for the national side in the nineteen thirties. The only one to rival him would have been the more recent player Alec Stewart, and although the stats suggest the two were comparable in their batting skills, anecdotally Ames was the better of the two ‘keepers.
The wicketkeeper is the lynchpin of a cricket team. He gets a lot of batsmen out, by catching them, or stumping them (if the batsman leaves his ‘ground’ when trying to play a ball), or completing a run-out if the batsmen try for a run injudiciously and fail to complete it before the ball is returned. He makes bowlers feel good, constantly telling them they’re the world’s best and how the last delivery didn’t dispatch the hapless ****** batter he’ll never know. He supplies energy to a flagging team, and keeps fielding standards high. He knows more about the prevailing conditions because he, best of all, sees what the ball is doing in the air or off the pitch. He can get in the batsman’s ear, and unsettle him with humour or comment. There’s a lot of standing around in cricket, and it’s possible to spend the whole of a multi-day match without contributing a great deal, but the wicketkeeper’s always in the action. Wicketkeepers are often eccentrics: rarely introverted.
But being a great wicketkeeper often isn’t enough. Les Ames’ contemporary in the Kent side was a man called ‘Hopper’ Levett. From what I’ve told you, you might think the hopping bit referred to some unusual quirk of his movement, but in fact Levett was the son of a hop farmer, born in the Wealden hill-top village of Goudhurst, as lovely a place as any Tuscan town, even today. Levett was a fantastic wicketkeeper, perhaps even better than Ames, ticking all the boxes outlined above. But he was a poor batsman, and although he had a fine career deputising for Ames in the Kent team, he never played at the highest level. Touchingly, the county indoor cricket school in Canterbury was named after the two of them.
This balance of requirements between ‘keeping and batting troubles England team selectors still. Prior, the English wicketkeeper of the moment is a fine bat – one of the radio commentators offered the opinion the other day that he’s worth his place in the side for that alone, which is maybe only a slight exaggeration. However pretty well everyone’s agreed he’s not the best wicketkeeper in the country. He dives for the ball when a simpler movement would do. He too often has hard hands. There’ll be some moments this summer when he’ll make important mistakes.
We’ve tried a few in recent years. There was Geraint Jones, the Kentish Australian, who played against the Aussies in the last home ‘Ashes’ series. Jones is spunky and a most attractive batsman (in good form at the moment), but his keeping can be gawky. Another adopted Antipodean, Tim Ambrose, has been tried and found marginally wanting because bowlers too easily find his batting limitations and bowl to them. James Foster is the best wicketkeeper, and has scored stacks of runs, but rather unfairly he’s having to live down memories of fallibility for England earlier in his career. However he has the English coach on his side: they share the county of Essex. Paul Mustard from Durham is tall for the job (there’s a lot of bending involved!), and on his day can be a devastating hitter. In the wings is the very talented Steven Davies, who has perhaps been unlucky not to have been previously selected at national level. His time must surely come.
We’ll perhaps see more than one of them play during this summer. I wonder whose autograph the boys will be collecting in twenty years time?
Lester Martin’s dad once played for England: just the once in 1947, but he did, he really did, and Lester still sported the England sweater to prove it. Jack Martin was a burly fast bowler for Kent, called up in his country’s time of need, and junked, like a politician, immediately thereafter. Lester was captain of my school’s under 15. I was his deputy. I didn’t have a dad who’d played for England, after all – but don’t get the feeling I’m in any way bitter about this forty years on. And the one match I captained, when Lester was ill, we beat the City of London School easily, thanks to my unusual and cunning bowling changes. (City of London all out 57: P. Wootton four wickets for three runs, Cross three for seven) I don’t remember us winning any others that season.
Anyway, leaving personal animus to one side, one great thing Lester did was to get me the autograph of Les Ames. If I hadn’t carelessly mislaid it in my late teens it would still be a treasured possession.
Ames was probably the best wicketkeeper/batsman Kent and England ever produced, playing regularly for the national side in the nineteen thirties. The only one to rival him would have been the more recent player Alec Stewart, and although the stats suggest the two were comparable in their batting skills, anecdotally Ames was the better of the two ‘keepers.
The wicketkeeper is the lynchpin of a cricket team. He gets a lot of batsmen out, by catching them, or stumping them (if the batsman leaves his ‘ground’ when trying to play a ball), or completing a run-out if the batsmen try for a run injudiciously and fail to complete it before the ball is returned. He makes bowlers feel good, constantly telling them they’re the world’s best and how the last delivery didn’t dispatch the hapless ****** batter he’ll never know. He supplies energy to a flagging team, and keeps fielding standards high. He knows more about the prevailing conditions because he, best of all, sees what the ball is doing in the air or off the pitch. He can get in the batsman’s ear, and unsettle him with humour or comment. There’s a lot of standing around in cricket, and it’s possible to spend the whole of a multi-day match without contributing a great deal, but the wicketkeeper’s always in the action. Wicketkeepers are often eccentrics: rarely introverted.
But being a great wicketkeeper often isn’t enough. Les Ames’ contemporary in the Kent side was a man called ‘Hopper’ Levett. From what I’ve told you, you might think the hopping bit referred to some unusual quirk of his movement, but in fact Levett was the son of a hop farmer, born in the Wealden hill-top village of Goudhurst, as lovely a place as any Tuscan town, even today. Levett was a fantastic wicketkeeper, perhaps even better than Ames, ticking all the boxes outlined above. But he was a poor batsman, and although he had a fine career deputising for Ames in the Kent team, he never played at the highest level. Touchingly, the county indoor cricket school in Canterbury was named after the two of them.
This balance of requirements between ‘keeping and batting troubles England team selectors still. Prior, the English wicketkeeper of the moment is a fine bat – one of the radio commentators offered the opinion the other day that he’s worth his place in the side for that alone, which is maybe only a slight exaggeration. However pretty well everyone’s agreed he’s not the best wicketkeeper in the country. He dives for the ball when a simpler movement would do. He too often has hard hands. There’ll be some moments this summer when he’ll make important mistakes.
We’ve tried a few in recent years. There was Geraint Jones, the Kentish Australian, who played against the Aussies in the last home ‘Ashes’ series. Jones is spunky and a most attractive batsman (in good form at the moment), but his keeping can be gawky. Another adopted Antipodean, Tim Ambrose, has been tried and found marginally wanting because bowlers too easily find his batting limitations and bowl to them. James Foster is the best wicketkeeper, and has scored stacks of runs, but rather unfairly he’s having to live down memories of fallibility for England earlier in his career. However he has the English coach on his side: they share the county of Essex. Paul Mustard from Durham is tall for the job (there’s a lot of bending involved!), and on his day can be a devastating hitter. In the wings is the very talented Steven Davies, who has perhaps been unlucky not to have been previously selected at national level. His time must surely come.
We’ll perhaps see more than one of them play during this summer. I wonder whose autograph the boys will be collecting in twenty years time?
