WISDEN EXTRA

WisdenEXTRA • The Ashes in England 1© John Wisden & Company Limited 2013 Wisden is a trademark of John Wisden & Company Limited

Harry Trott may be best remembered as the lateral-thinking Australian captain who regained the urn in 1897-98, when England were thrashed 4–1. But I prefer the story told in Gideon Haigh’s Game For Anything. Presented with a royal cigar by the Prince of Wales during the 1896 tour of England, Trott was later puzzled to be asked what he had done with the memento. “I smoked it,” he said.

We all make repeated efforts to distil the essence of the Ashes, but that act of lese-majesty does the job more than adequately: the Poms as blue-blood patricians, upholders of the faith; the Aussies gloriously egalitarian, unimpressed by the demands of decorum.

Somehow the stereotype still passes muster, and the eighth edition of Wisden EXTRA leads with a lovely piece from Alistair Gildard about the significance of one of Test cricket’s last remaining five-Test series.

The Australians’ reputation for cutting to the chase has been unwittingly buttressed in recent weeks by the punch David Warner aimed at Joe Root in a Birmingham bar, and the astonishing decision – less than a fortnight before the First Test at Trent Bridge – to sack coach Mickey Arthur.

Even before all that, people were wondering if this was the worst Australian side to visit England since 1989. And Malcolm Conn, perhaps the most strident of anti-English voices while they were losing eight Ashes series in a row leading up to 2005, examines the comparison here. Some are now wondering whether they are the most distracted too.

WisdenEXTRAThe Ashes in England

Divided by a common spor t

150 editions of the world’s most famous sports book

Eagar’s Eye For Patrick Eagar, the doyen of cricket photographers, sport has no greater contest than the Ashes, which he has covered for well over 40 years. In the following pages, he picks ten personal favourites from the many thousands of images he has taken while the battlelines were drawn on English soil.

No. 8, July 2013

But we are not just concerned with recent history. Rob Smyth’s imaginative précis of more than 130 years of Ashes cricket – summed up in ten deliveries – stretches all the way back to The Oval in 1882 (the Book of Genesis, as far as the urn is concerned). And our archive material includes Bob Massie’s swing-happy destruction of England at Lord’s 90 years later.

We also have cameos from lyricist and cricket-lover Tim Rice, and author and cricket-lover Tom Holland, who remembers his first Test (Headingley ’81, or some such). Tyers and Beach shed crocodile tears for the Aussies, and Benedict Bermange rummages into his menagerie of stats.

You can also find details later in these pages of Wisden’s special World XI competition, in which you get to pick your best XI from the last 150 years – the lifespan of the Almanack. The selection that comes closest to matching that of Wisden’s team of experts wins £100 worth of Bloomsbury Sports titles, plus subscriptions to All Out Cricket magazine and The Nightwatchman, our new quarterly home for long-form cricket writing. For more details, please click here.

And if quirky cricket-related music is more your thing, there’s a chance to win one of ten copies of Sticky Wickets, the new album from The Duckworth Lewis Method.

Happy reading – or listening. Your comments, as ever, are very welcome.

Lawrence Booth

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WisdenEXTRA • The Ashes in England2

Sibling rivalry rather than culture clash? Alistair Gildard peers inside the urn to investigate…

Brothers at arms

The Big Hit

Some you win, some you don’t: defeated Australians in the Baggy Green watch Andrew Strauss and team celebrate at Sydney, January 2011.

Pic: Hamish Blair, Getty Images

WisdenEXTRA • The Ashes in England 3

continued overleaf

International cricket can be a sociopolitical tinderbox. From the apartheid-era South Africans to the regional pride of the great West Indians, rare is the cricket contest that doesn’t find itself encumbered with baggage from beyond the boundary. In the past decade alone, England have conducted series against Zimbabwe and Sri Lanka that prompted debate at government level, while Kevin Pietersen of all people was lauded as “statesmanlike” after leading England back to India in the wake of the Mumbai bombings.

It’s not all about broad themes either. One needs only think of the toxic fallout of the Monkeygate saga involving Andrew Symonds and Harbhajan Singh, or Mike Gatting’s run-in with Shakoor Rana at Faisalabad, to recognise that all too often in cricket a moment of indiscretion can, like the proverbial butterfly, lead to a series’ worth of earthquakes. And that’s before we even consider the motherlode that is India v Pakistan, the ultimate example of sport as George Orwell would have understood it.

In the midst of all that, the Ashes represent an island paradise, a chance to breathe easy every two or so years and soak in a cricket contest that really is all about the on-field action. That fact was perhaps most keenly felt when England travelled to Australia in the autumn of 2010. The prospect of defending the urn in Australia for the first time in 24 years was a rest cure compared to the poison that had seeped into England’s home summer, courtesy of the spot-fixing scandal that erupted in the final month of Pakistan’s visit.

By contrast, 80 years have elapsed since Bodyline, the one truly diplomatic incident between England and Australia. It is almost as though the prospect of losing an empire over the small matter of a cricket match has dissuaded either team from getting quite so over-sensitive again. Which brings us, indirectly, back to Gower’s recent point. It’s not that Australia lacks culture as such, it is that England and Australia lack a clash of cultures. Theirs is a sibling rivalry, but it’s far from a blood feud.

The context of the Ashes rivalry is one thing, but it would mean nothing without the content. In an era that is designed to rush past in a blur of instant updates, the opportunity to luxuriate in a contest that stretches across 25 playing days is rare to the point of anachronism. And yet the world still stops for an Ashes series precisely because it allows us enough time to slow down and take it all in.

It is the dramatic pauses in Test cricket that make it the most engrossing sport in the world. Even in 2005, the most storied Ashes series of all, fever pitch was not reached until the ninth day of the campaign, the stage at which most modern-day Test series tend to be winding towards a conclusion. Instead England’s two-run win at Edgbaston guaranteed that the remaining 15 – fifteen! – days would be worth tuning in for.

It was David Warner who expressed it most eloquently. No, really.

With a single booze-fuelled swing at England’s angelic starlet Joe Root, Australia’s ocker opener ripped the lid clean off any apparent embargo on pre-Ashes repartee and got everyone buzzing about the greatest rivalry in sport.

Admittedly it was an odd way to reignite Anglo–Australian passions. But rather than focus on the violence, let’s instead marvel at how the incident resonated without too much vibration. Cricket Australia may have high-handedly branded Warner’s actions “despicable” but, with details emerging of fake beards and jaegerbombs, this was no ordinary Birmingham bar brawl. Warner’s idiocy (and subsequent apology) misses the point that most Englishmen were too busy laughing to take any real offence.

Leaving aside the horrified moralising from Down Under, this was Ashes banter in extremis, an extension of the sort of fisticuffs that have occurred down the years on the grass banks of Adelaide and Perth without anyone seriously suggesting that the relationship between England and Australia is anything other than exemplary. It’s the sort of stuff that, 20-odd years ago, inspired the Barmy Army to hit back with song rather than limb because, as David Gower clumsily reiterated in a recent interview, Australians are too culturally illiterate to cope with such a highbrow approach. And, whoops, off we go again...

The Warner incident even earned a special mention on Channel 4’s Friday night gameshow, The Million Pound Drop – one of the most prominent slots cricket has occupied on TV since the 2005 Ashes. “What did Solihull Police tweet was on the loose this morning?” was the question. “A boomerang”, “a wallaby” and “Australian cricketer David Warner” were the three possible answers.

The contestant instantly piled her cash on to our Dave, correctly reasoning that (a) “he punched Joe Root” (honestly, what would have been the chances of a member of the public knowing such details about, say, Wahab Riaz?) and (b) “Solihull is in Birmingham”. Unfortunately she was wrong and lost all her money (the answer was, in fact, the wallaby) but that does not detract from her impressive grasp of the facts. Cricket is back on the public agenda. With favourable form and forecasts, the Ashes effect could keep it there until January next year.

Unlike his occasional opening partner, Ed Cowan, Warner may not fully appreciate the power of symbolism. “No offence, mate, but I want to knock your block off ” is a sentiment that might as well have been snarled by every Aussie cricketer from Spofforth to Siddle. Like Derek Randall goading Dennis Lillee at the Centenary Test, you can picture Root doffing his cap in response and getting on with his evening. In a sport so often riven by cultural sensitivities, that is actually a deeply refreshing state of affairs.


Botham’s Ashes was even more of a slow burner, taking until the rest day of the Third Test to spark into life. By modern standards, that series could have ended up as memorable as England’s recent tour of New Zealand, which required some hasty revision after Matt Prior’s final-day rearguard at Auckland enlivened an otherwise humdrum tour.

Unfortunately, three and out is the standard rule for modern Test series. In the course of his 198-Test career, Sachin Tendulkar has played in just three five-match rubbers, most recently in the West Indies in 2001-02, and he has never made more than 500 runs in a series (though he has come mighty close, with 493 in four Tests in Australia in 2003-04).

More’s the pity for such a box-office performer because, like a beautifully woven film dialogue in which passing conversations hold the key to future plot twists, little details crop up in the course of five-Test series that only become fully apparent in the final act of the play – Ian Botham’s frosty reception from

the MCC members in 1981, for instance, or Kevin Pietersen’s insouciant six-smacking in an otherwise tame defeat at Lord’s that set the parameters for the Oval onslaught to follow.

What’s more, in an Ashes summer, it’s best to start watching even before the title sequence appears. In 2005, Darren Gough’s vein-popping display in the Rose Bowl Twenty20 was a hint of the lively fare in store, as was the character Paul Collingwood showed in his confrontation with Matthew Hayden in the Edgbaston one-day international.

And who knows, by the end of August, David Warner’s indiscretion in the Walkabout may come to be viewed as the first sign of Aussie disintegration, or the first sign of a fighting spirit that is crying out to be corralled. Either way, the beauty is that there is so much time for all of this to matter. Even to the Friday night gameshow fraternity.

Alistair Gildard is a freelance cricket writer

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Even though the technology had been around for decades, this must have been one of the very first colour photographs of Test cricket in England. That’s because the two leading photo agencies – Sport & General and Central Press – had the Tests sewn up between them. Occasionally a local paper such as the Yorkshire Post might wangle their own snapper into the ground, but essentially every photograph taken of international cricket was by those two agencies. Their clients were the dailies – and they wanted black and white only.

But in 1972, the exclusive agency agreement came to an end, and freelance photographers had a chance to see what they could do. And this Test at Old Trafford – the first of the 1972 Ashes – was only my second as an official photographer. (Jim Swanton had pulled a few strings to get me into Headingley back in 1965, but the agencies closed ranks to make sure it didn’t happen again.)

Colour took far longer to process than mono images, but as I was selling my wares to The Cricketer rather than the papers, it was a luxury I could afford. You can see there’s a bit of early-season greenness to the pitch, and maybe that’s done for Alan Knott – caught Rod Marsh bowled Dennis Lillee in both innings, though England did go on to win by 89 runs. I like the life in this one; in fact, it has a modern air to it, even though it’s more than 40 years old. Not bad, even by today’s standards! Shame I couldn’t have made it a bit looser and not had to lose some of Lillee. In those days, though, you were stuck with a fixed lens, so it was a question of getting all of the keeper or all of the bowler…

Eagar’s Eye 1


I’m cheating here, as Jeff Thomson isn’t bowling in a Test. But it’s an arresting shot of a towering Ashes figure. I’d been to Australia for the 1974-75 series, but never quite managed to crack that amazing Thommo action. Later, as I watched the review of the series, which included a slow-motion sequence of him bowling, I realised there was a split second in his action that just summed up his raw speed and power. Thommo was over in England for the 1975 World Cup, and Australia had a warm-up game against Middlesex. So I hopped off to Lord’s and devoted a roll of film to trying to capture that moment as a still. I didn’t quite manage it even then, as no matter where I was, the non-striker got in the way. This is the best I got, and it’s done me proud over the years. It appeared in The Sunday Times and on the front page of The Age, and there’s even a copy in the Australian National Museum in Canberra.

Eagar’s Eye 2

6Wisden EXTRA • New Zealand v England


From the Archive Wisden 2006

If Australia had been rolled over in a couple of balls on the fourth morning, which was wholly possible, this would still be remembered as a great Test match: it produced exciting, fluctuating, often brilliant cricket from day one. But the crowd that turned up and filled Edgbaston on the Sunday seemed to sense they would be seeing something more worthwhile than three minutes’ cricket and a victory singsong.

They still got the win they desperately wanted and expected, but in a manner that will never be forgotten. When the Old Trafford Test began four days later, The Greatest Test DVD was on sale. And no one was arguing with the description. On that sunlit fourth morning, England strode out on to the field with Australia 175 for eight, chasing 282. The main batsmen were all gone, and so was the swaggering confidence that had characterised Australia’s Test performances for almost the whole of the previous 16 years.

But sometimes there is nothing quite as invigorating as a hopeless situation. Warne started brightly, Lee jumped solidly behind the ball, collecting bruises as well as runs, and the target ticked down. Warne trod on his stumps with 62 wanted, but still it wasn’t over. The bowlers dug the ball in too short and too straight, aiming for catches off the splice rather than in the well-stocked slip cordon. England’s confidence turned to concern to alarm to panic. And the last pair, Lee and Kasprowicz – with plenty of help from Extras – whittled the target down towards single figures.

With 15 required, Kasprowicz flicked Flintoff uppishly to third man, where Simon Jones failed to hold on to a difficult catch as he dived forward. England’s last chance appeared to have gone. But finally, with just three wanted, Harmison banged one into the left glove of Kasprowicz, who hunched down horrified as the ball looped down the leg side and Geraint Jones plunged for the winning catch, the signal for tumultuous celebrations. A mournful Kasprowicz said afterwards:

“It just got big quick, and I didn’t see too much of it.” Nor did umpire Bowden.

After umpteen TV replays, it was possible to conclude that Kasprowicz’s left hand was off the bat at the moment of impact and, technically, he was not out. Bowden, however, would have needed superhuman vision to see this, and an armed escort involving several regiments to escape the crowd had he actually refused to give it out. It was also the right decision for cricket: 2–0 to Australia would have been the signal for the football season to begin; 1–1 lit the blue touchpaper. The Greatest Test became the Greatest Series, and the pyrotechnics illuminated the summer. The final margin was the closest in England–Australia Tests, edging the three-run thrillers at Old Trafford 1902 and Melbourne 1982-83 – and neither of those could match this one in its relentless unmissability.

The drama began before the toss, when McGrath trod on a ball during practice and tore his ankle ligaments. Despite losing his leading fast bowler, Ponting decided to field on a cloudy morning, influenced by some gloomy predictions about the pitch, which had been under water less than a week beforehand after Birmingham was struck by a mini-tornado. But, in keeping with Australia’s flawed backroom work throughout the tour, Ponting’s decision ignored well-informed local opinion on both the weather and the tendency of Edgbaston wickets to deteriorate.

Vaughan could hardly believe his luck, and Ponting rapidly got the sinking feeling of a captain who has made a very, very big mistake. Against a McGrathless attack, England shed their inhibitions and their vulnerability, and hurtled to 407 inside 80 overs – not the full 90 – the most conceded by Australia on the first day of any Test since 1938. Trescothick led the way with a blazing 90, as the

England, one down after the First Test at Lord’s, hung on for grim death to shade the closest of all Ashes Tests. Like everyone else, Steven Lynch was on the edge of his seat

Edgbaston’s Ashes cracker

continued overleaf

Scorecard: click here

At Birmingham, August 4, 5, 6, 7, 2005. England won by two runs. Toss: Australia.

http://www.cricketarchive.co.uk/Archive/Scorecards/83/83209.html


bowlers obligingly served the ball into the perfect groove for his crunching cover and off-drives. He hit 15 fours and two sixes, but was out shortly after lunch, in sight of his first Ashes century. Bell followed third ball, and Vaughan hooked straight to long leg, but that set up a crucial stand of 103 between the big-hitting pair of Pietersen and Flintoff.

Unsure at first against Warne, who wheeled away through 25.2 overs, Flintoff hit his way out of trouble, carting Warne into the stands and once swatting a Lee bouncer over the rope despite taking his eye off the ball and trying to withdraw the bat. Few innings of such power and importance have conveyed so little authority: Flintoff was feeling his way uncertainly into the series but, once he got there, he commandeered it. After 45 overs, the official halfway mark, England were already 236 for four, a day’s ration in the dour 1950s and ’60s.

Flintoff had carved five sixes and six fours when he became Gillespie’s 250th Test victim, just after tea. But then Pietersen, who had intelligently held back while Flintoff flailed, took over to score his third half-century in his first three Test innings, this time wafting a forthright 71 with a six and ten fours, several from a whipped forehand drive to midwicket reminiscent of the tennis court, more Borg than Border. The tail joined in too: Simon Jones was the fifth man to hit a six on a day which featured ten of them, as well as 54 fours, and the eventual scoring rate was a breathless 5.13 an over. Australia did manage to bowl England out on the first day – but for 407.

Rain prevented Australia from batting on the first evening, and they started badly next day when Hayden drove his first ball straight to cover, his first Test duck for 40 months and 68 innings. Langer dug in after being hit on the head in Harmison’s first over – he said his old coach always liked to see him get hit early on, as it sharpened him up. And he resisted for four and a half hours, lasting long after Ponting had gone for a pleasant 61. But the middle order misfired, and Gilchrist was stranded on 49 when Flintoff struck twice in two balls, leaving England with a handy lead of 99. That increased by another 25 on the second evening, for the loss of Strauss, who was fooled by Warne’s second ball, a huge turner which fizzed across his body and crashed into the stumps. It made Warne the first overseas bowler to take 100 Test wickets in England, and brought – for England – unnerving comparisons with the Gatting ball of 1993.

Indeed, after an initial burst from Lee reduced

England to 31 for four – Vaughan’s off stump was sent flying by a 91mph nip-backer – Warne dominated the third day. He bowled unchanged from the City End, usually round the wicket into the rough, often turning the ball unfeasible distances. Bell and Pietersen might have been unlucky to be given out caught behind, but Pietersen, whose 20 included two huge sixes over midwicket off Warne, had survived a confident caught-behind appeal from Lee first ball.

Warne’s fifth wicket reduced England to 131 for nine, 230 ahead, but Flintoff then cut loose, slamming four more sixes to take his match total to nine, an Ashes record, outbeefing Ian Botham’s six at Manchester in 1981. Now, this was Flintoff in full command of both his shots and the situation. One Kasprowicz over went for 20, despite a ring of fielders on the boundary, then Lee disappeared for 18, with one of two sixes being fished out of the TV cables on the pavilion roof by Graham Gooch. Flintoff was finally bowled for 73 – Warne’s tenth wicket of the match and 599th in Tests – but the last-gasp stand of 51 with Simon Jones had swelled the lead and given England’s dressing-room the scent of victory.

The frenetic pace continued in a three-and-a-half-hour session on the third evening. Australia galloped to 47 in 12 overs before Flintoff, almost inevitably, shook things up. Langer dragged his second delivery into his stumps, and Ponting nicked the seventh (after a no-ball), a leg-cutter, having kept out some searing inswingers. Hayden grafted to 31 before being well caught by the tumbling Trescothick at slip – Simon Jones’s over-the-top send-off cost him 20% of his match fee – and three more went down before Flintoff, in his second spell, thudded a straight one into Gillespie’s pads.

With the score at 140 for seven, England claimed the extra half-hour in a bid to polish the match off in three days. But Warne went on the offensive, lofting Giles for two sixes, and the only casualty of the extra period was Clarke, bamboozled by Harmison’s rare slower ball after another easy-on-the-eye innings. That turned out to be the final ball of the day. At the time, it seemed slightly unfortunate that there would probably be so little left for a full house on the fourth day. But for the crowd the simple prospect of beating Australia was unmissable. Soon, their enthusiasm was to ripple out across the whole country.

Man of the Match: A. Flintoff. Attendance: 81,870. Receipts: £2,970,226.



Eagar’s Eye

Well, I can caption this pic of the 1975 Aussies pretty much in my sleep… Nowadays, we’re used to the whole team bunching together to look at a replay on the giant screen, but back then you jumped at the chance to take an unposed image of so many players all looking your way. Well, I did, at least. I reckon from left to right it’s Rod Marsh, Doug Walters, Ian Chappell, Ross Edwards, Alan Turner, Rick McCosker, Ashley Mallett, Max Walker, Greg Chappell and Dennis Lillee. That means there’s one man missing – Jeff Thomson was probably catching his breath at third man after another spell of out-and-out pace. What a team! It was black and white as the light can’t have been up to much, but it gives it something of a Reservoir Dogs look. This was at Edgbaston, and they’re all congratulating Marsh after catching Tony Greig off Walker’s bowling.

3


How did it come to this? A team that was playing for the No. 1 Test ranking in December are now trying to avoid the tag of laughing stock. The once-imposing Australians appear to be unravelling.

The process began in India earlier this year. Following hard on the heels of England’s impressive 2–1 victory there before Christmas, Australia were flogged 4–0. And, amid the on-field carnage, four players – including then vice-captain Shane Watson – were suspended from the Third Test, at Mohali, for failing to do their homework.

Watson went home for the birth of his first child, then underwent the remarkable resurrection of becoming Australia’s 44th Test captain when Michael Clarke was forced out of the final Test because of his persistent back condition.

No sooner had Watson led Australia to defeat than he was forced to resign as vice-captain so that Brad Haddin, who had initially lost his place as wicketkeeper to Matthew Wade, could return as Clarke’s deputy.

Then, to top it all, David Warner set what must surely be a world record for international cricket, twice pleading guilty to separate charges of bringing the game into disrepute in the space of three weeks.

He was fined £3,500 for a Twitter rant against two cricket writers, then £7,000 – plus a month’s suspension – for punching Joe Root in a Birmingham bar at 2.30am after Australia had lost to England in the Champions Trophy. Then came the sacking of Mickey Arthur.

So, having been bundled out of that tournament without winning a match, is this really the worst Australian team to tour England, as some UK commentators have gleefully claimed?

Perhaps it is best to let history be the judge. The last “worst Australian team ever” landed at Heathrow in 1989 – and left four months later with a 4–0 victory. And however much the errant Warner had to drink before he took that ill-judged swing at Root, it would not hold a keg to David Boon, who broke Rod Marsh’s Kangaroo Route record by consuming 52 cans on the way over.

That 1989 side contained a number of Australia’s all-time greats, but most of them were either unknown

or unrated when the First Test began at Headingley in early June.

Mark Taylor had played just two Tests, Ian Healy eight (for an average of 18) and Steve Waugh had been indulged for 26 Tests while averaging 31. They did not have a Test century between them.

The bowling appeared little better. Leg-spinner Trevor Hohns had six Test wickets at 47, Merv Hughes was more a bushranger than a bowler, and Geoff Lawson and Terry Alderman seemed over the hill.

The rest, as they say, is history. Taylor, Waugh, Healy and Hughes all came of age, joining captain Allan Border, Dean Jones and Boon as part of a renaissance which ultimately took Australia to the top of the world.

Now, 24 years on, skipper Michael Clarke stands with Border as the only established class player in the team, and there are more centurions in this current squad than there were in 1989. Unfortunately for Australia, Warner – one of the most exciting, if unreliable, among them – could miss the start of the series because of his suspension.

For all his foibles, an improved Phil Hughes has three Test hundreds amid his 21 first-class centuries. But if Australia are to have any chance of triumphing, then Shane Watson must impose his vast talent as Waugh did. And Clarke, Wisden’s Leading Cricketer in the World for 2012, must continue to shine, if he can ever rid himself of his back problems.

It is Australia’s fast bowling where most hope and excitement lingers. This current crop of pacemen has the chance to be something special – if they can stay on the park.

At his best, James Pattinson is the pick of a very good bunch, able to bowl 93mph outswingers with raw aggression. Mitchell Starc is an exceptionally talented, if unpredictable, left-armer, and Peter Siddle a much better bowler than when he toured England four years ago. Thankfully, they can all bat.

The biggest surprise could be Jackson Bird who, with his outswing, persistent seam and exceptional control at a lively pace, may yet prove a tall version of Alderman. The 26-year-old Bird has 11 wickets in two

It’s 24 years since Allan Border’s team arrived in England damned as the worst Australian side to visit these shores. Malcolm Conn compares that squad with the current crop

Déjà vu all over again?


Tests, winning the match award in his second, against Sri Lanka at Sydney. And he arrived in England with 98 first-class wickets at just 19 apiece.

Then there is Ryan Harris – like Lawson, the old man of the attack – who is the best outswing bowler in the country when fitness prevails.

The outlook may not be as depressing for Australia as it seems.

Malcolm Conn is the chief cricket writer for News Group Ltd in Australia (and, yes, he was one of the two cricket writers involved in the Twitter spat with David Warner)

Eagar’s Eye 4This isn’t an outstanding pic in its own right – but, goodness, it was an outstanding moment, a real statement. And as statements go, they don’t come much more emphatic. It was Trent Bridge 1989, at the end of the first day of the Fifth Test. Australia led 3–0 in a six-match series, so they had already retained the urn, but of course the Aussies never ease off. Allan Border won the toss and chose to bat. And bat they did. By the close, Mark Taylor was 141 not out, Geoff Marsh 125 not out – and Australia 301 for none. I think they doubled that before Border declared. It was Mike Atherton’s Test debut, and England lost by an innings and plenty.



Eagar’s Eye

For me, the summer of ’72 was a time of discovery. I was let loose on Test cricket, and could explore positions and angles the agency photographers had ignored. It wasn’t their fault: the papers wanted a traditional composition, so that’s what they got. This one – John Inverarity caught by Ray Illingworth off Derek Underwood – was taken from the rugby ground at Headingley, where there was a sort of suspended sightscreen blocking the view. If you were careful, though, you could sneak a good shot. I was covering this Test for The Sunday Times as well as The Cricketer, which meant taking two cameras, one with a black and white film, the other with colour. That could be awkward, as my 600mm lens wasn’t really up to taking colour. I ordered another from Japan in May, giving me plenty of time – I thought – before the Ashes started. It turned up in September… This photo must have been taken some time on the third afternoon, with the sort of packed close field that is every photographer’s dream. I’d spent months looking through the viewfinder at a batsman, a keeper and an expanse of grass, and all of a sudden there were three more fielders. This match came to be known as the “fusarium” Test because a fungus had attacked the pitch a few days before. Underwood took advantage of the grassless strip, ending with ten for 82; England won by nine wickets and so held on to the Ashes. Until a few weeks ago that was the last time a spinner of any nationality had taken ten in a Test at Leeds. But at the end of May, Graeme Swann flattened New Zealand – and without the aid of a fungus.

5


Only one man has played Test cricket for England against Australia – and for Australia against England: Billy Midwinter represented Australia in 1877, before switching allegiance for the next five years.

The Ashes urn normally remains in the Lord’s Museum, regardless of which side hold it. Had it been allowed to travel to the country of the winner, however, it would have clocked up 231,198 miles since 1882. And if Australia win this summer, it would – in this parallel universe – finish the year having travelled further than from the earth to the moon.

The urn itself is only 11cm high, making it one of the smallest trophies in sport. Steven Finn is England’s tallest Ashes cricketer, at 6ft 8in – the same height as Bruce Reid, Australia’s tallest. The shortest Ashes cricketer was England’s Alfred “Tich” Freeman, who played two matches on the 1924-25 tour and stood at 5ft 2in.

Michael Clarke hit a seven at Adelaide in 2006-07, after running three, then being gifted four overthrows. But the most runs from a single stroke is eight, thanks to two sets of overthrows. The beneficiary was England’s Patsy Hendren, at Melbourne in March 1929.

There have been three centuries scored before lunch on the first day of an Ashes Test – and all by Australians: Victor Trumper at Manchester in 1902, Charlie Macartney at Leeds in 1926 and Don Bradman, also at Leeds, in 1930. Two bowlers have taken five wickets before lunch on the first day – Australia’s Fred Spofforth at Melbourne in 1878-79, and Tom Richardson, of England, at Lord’s in 1896.

The most runs in a full session by a single batsman is 127, by Australia’s Stan McCabe, between lunch and tea

on the third day of the Nottingham Test in 1938. The fewest is eight, by England’s Trevor Bailey before lunch on day four of the Brisbane Test of 1958-59.

Many players have been dismissed first ball, but just two have suffered that misfortune in both innings: England’s William Attewell at Sydney in 1891-92, and Australia’s Ryan Harris at Adelaide in 2010-11.

Only two teenagers have played for England in the Ashes: Brian Close in 1950-51, and Ben Hollioake in 1997. Australia have fielded 11 teenagers – the most recent being Doug Walters, in 1965-66. One player from each country has played aged over 50: W. G. Grace for England, Bert Ironmonger for Australia.

Kevin Pietersen has faced 2,544 Ashes deliveries, hitting 17 of them for six. Mike Atherton managed one six from 4,974 – a hook off Jason Gillespie at Old Trafford in 1997. But Geoff Boycott faced 8,568 balls, without ever clearing the ropes.

The most deliveries faced before getting off the mark is 80, by England wicketkeeper John Murray, who was suffering from a shoulder injury at Sydney in 1962-63. He was almost pipped at the same venue 28 years later by Carl Rackemann, the Australia fast bowler: Rackemann needed 76.

The most fours hit by one batsman in an innings is 46, by Don Bradman during his 334 at Headingley in 1930. The England record is held by Nasser Hussain – who managed 38 while making his match-winning 207 at Edgbaston in 1997.

No Test series offers more statistical gems than England v Australia. Benedict Bermange picks a few of the most appealing…

Eight runs off one ball – and eight in a session

continued overleaf


Australian Bob Cowper’s innings of 307 at Melbourne in 1965-66 contained 26 threes, because of very long boundaries and an exceptionally slow outfield.

The longest spell came from Aussie off-spinner Tom Veivers, who at Old Trafford in 1964 bowled the last 51.1 of his 95.1 overs unchanged. This broke the record, set at Sydney in 1894-95, when Australian keeper and captain Jack Blackham had to leave the field injured. George Giffen took charge, put himself on to bowl the very next over, and sent down 50 consecutive overs until England were dismissed.

Australian openers Geoff Marsh and Mark Taylor batted throughout the first day of the Nottingham Test

in 1989 to reach 301 without loss. But the longest Ashes partnership took place at Adelaide in 1928-29: Wally Hammond and Douglas Jardine added 262 for England’s third wicket, and batted for 146.1 overs – or 877 deliveries.

Jason Gillespie once took five wickets in seven Ashes deliveries – spread across two and a half years. At Perth in 1998-99, he claimed three wickets with the last four balls of his 15th over, and added another with the second ball of his next, to finish off England’s second innings. On his next Ashes appearance, at Edgbaston in 2001, he dismissed Marcus Trescothick with his first delivery.

Benedict Bermange is the cricket statistician for Sky Sports

I so nearly failed to get this image. Along with everyone else, I was utterly wrapped up in the conclusion of the 2005 Trent Bridge Test. I really thought Shane Warne was going to win it for the Aussies, and that would have meant they retained the Ashes. I’d been following England for well over 30 years, and experience told me what was likely to happen. So when Ashley Giles hit the winning runs in the tensest finish I’ve ever known, I was in danger of completely losing it. Everywhere, you can see the sense of relief – from Giles’s face to those in the crowd. At Nottingham, the backdrop can be messy if you’ve placed yourself too fine, but this one worked out well. (Now I look at the image again, it seems the Australians are in need of relief too, judging from the gestures of Adam Gilchrist and Simon Katich.)

Eagar’s Eye 6



When Saul of Tarsus set off on the road to Damascus, he did so “breathing out threatenings and slaughter” against the infant Church. Then a flash of light. The risen Christ appeared. Saul promptly fell off his horse. From that moment he was a changed man. The figure who had previously devoted his life to persecuting the Church was now its biggest fan. Saul of Tarsus was on his way to becoming St Paul.

While I hesitate to compare myself to the great apostle, I can certainly vouch for the possibility of Damascene conversions. Once, back before my teens, I used to hate cricket. Given half a chance, I would cheerfully have breathed out threatenings and slaughter. Even compared to other sports, it seemed to me the absolute embodiment of tedium and pointlessness. But then, in July 1981, I set out on my own personal road to Damascus.

It was the school holidays. My mother was in hospital having a routine operation, and my father was looking after me. He suggested, more in hope than expectation, that he talk me through the forthcoming Test match. The context, he explained, was a dramatic one. England were in a state of chronic disarray. With four Tests of their series against Australia still to play, they were already 1–0 down. Their captain, a man called Ian Botham, had scored nought the two previous times he had batted, and had just resigned. Two ducks in a row! This made Botham sound very much a sportsman in my own mould. Since he was still in the England team, albeit demoted to the ranks, I found myself – rather to my surprise – moderately interested in how he would cope. I told my father I would give the Test match a go.

Things did not kick off well for England. Australia ground their way to 401, and in reply the English batsmen were all out for a paltry 174. This enabled me to learn what the follow-on was. England, my father dolefully informed me, were doomed. Only one team in the whole of Test history had ever followed on and ended up winning. That was in 1894. We might as well stop watching now.

But I was less despondent than my father. England might have been fouling things up – but Botham, the man whose fortunes I had signed up to prior to the match, actually seemed to be doing quite well. He had bagged six Australian wickets; he had scored a half-century; he had even begun to smile. I found myself feeling relieved for him – and wondering how he would do when he batted again. When England slumped in their second innings, it was my father who switched the television off and announced that we were going to the cinema. I had actually wanted to stay. I was keen to see how Botham got on.

The film we went to was called Excalibur. Men with beards staggered around in fog getting murdered. It was just like the England first innings at Headingley. At the end, though, as a blood-red sun set on King Arthur, and gore-smeared knights crawled across a corpse-littered battlefield, there came a message of hope. “One day,” Arthur told Sir Percival, “a king will come, and the sword will rise again.” A thought to cling to as we left the cinema, got in the car, and hurried back home to find out the score. I realised, as I settled myself down on the sofa, that I was actually feeling nervous. “It’s probably all over,” my father said. He switched on the TV.

It wasn’t all over. England were perilously placed, and defeat remained a near certainty – but Botham, at least, was still in. “What a triumph it would be for him,” a commentator declared wistfully, “if he could still be batting at six o’clock this evening.” I hugged my knees. Yes, I thought – what a triumph indeed! I willed Botham not to get out. I did so with a desperation I had not thought possible to feel. As I watched, every ball seemed a matter of life and death. For the very first time in my life, I was gripped by watching sport.

By the close of play I was not merely gripped – I was addicted. The rush of excitement that Botham had provided me with by lashing the Australian bowlers to every corner of Headingley in a brilliant, unbeaten

It was 1981, and Tom Holland didn’t care much for cricket – until all hell broke loose at Headingley…

And then came the king

My First Test




When else but Headingley ’81? What a moment in Ashes history as Ian Botham, unbeaten on 145, leaves the field in triumph on the fourth evening. Action shots are fun, and often more relevant, but for placing an event in its social and historical context, this pic just hits the spot, a real period piece. Never mind the fact that the crowd are jostling their hero; just look at what the policeman is doing in the background. Nothing! Like the lads here, I’d come on to the field too – that must be a practice pitch in the foreground – to get closer to the moment. That made life slightly more awkward for me, as I was moving towards Beefy, who was running towards me, and so getting the focus right wasn’t easy. This, though, does seem quite sharp – just like the young chap in suit and shiny shoes!

Eagar’s Eye

7

145, by winning for England an improbable 125-run lead, was like nothing I had ever known. The thought of having to wait until the next morning to find out just how many more he might score, and whether England might actually win, seemed intolerable. That night I could hardly sleep.

In the event, Botham managed to smash one further boundary before he was left stranded on 149. Australia needed 130 to win. Clearly, then, England were going to lose. I settled back mournfully to watch the last rites. But they proved thrillingly slow to arrive. A Test match that had already served up so much now delivered its final, climactic twist. Australian wicket after wicket fell. Then a recovery. The walrus-moustachioed Rod Marsh. To be so close, only to lose – agony! But no. Up the ball went into the air, down into the hands of Graham Dilley it fell – and Marsh was out.

Soon afterwards, so too were Australia. Such relief – such remarkable joy. Five days previously I would have laughed at the very idea, but Test cricket, it turned out, could be the most exciting, intoxicating, heart-thumping thing in the world.

My father, of course, was delighted I had come to this realisation – that I had seen the light at last. “Just beware, though,” he admonished. “Not every Test match has endings that are this exciting.”

I knew he was right – but I didn’t care. I was too busy looking forward to the next one.

Roll on, Edgbaston, I thought.

Tom Holland is author of Rubicon: The Triumph and Tragedy of the Roman Republic, and penned a chapter in The Authors XI: A Season of English Cricket from Hackney to Hambledon


I just had to include a pic or two from the summer of 2005. I reckon those five Tests formed the most exciting, cliff-hanging series ever played: even better than ’81, and that’s saying something. This is another image that’s been good to me over the years. I reckoned the story – it was the third day of the Fourth Test, at Trent Bridge – was likely to be wickets rather than runs, and I remember saying to David Ashdown of The Independent that it was ages since there’d been a good slip catch. I was using a long lens, and this was as wide as it would go, while David was using a wide lens, and he went in tight. It’s a case of swings and roundabouts, I suppose. Anyway, we’d done the right thing by positioning ourselves at third man, and were perfectly placed for Andrew Strauss’s amazing catch to dismiss Adam Gilchrist off Freddie’s bowling. Technically, it’s not an especially difficult shot. If I was being fussy, though, I’d say I should have focused on Strauss rather than Gilchrist, but there’s an advantage, since Freddie, Steve Bucknor and Brett Lee are all quite sharp.

Eagar’s Eye

8



Harry Boyle to Ted Peate, The Oval, 1882The match that gave birth to the Ashes is indelibly associated with Frederick “The Demon” Spofforth, who raised hell and took a seven-for in both innings. Yet it was Harry Boyle who claimed the final wicket in Australia’s surprise seven-run victory. Ted Peate had an appropriate surname for such an Ashes-themed occasion; Boyle, an accurate medium-pacer who was the ice to Spofforth’s fire, bowled Peate to complete England’s collapse from 51 for two to 77 all out. The Sporting Times published an obituary of English cricket, and from a little urn grew the mightiest of cricket contests.

Len Braund to Joe Darling, Old Trafford, 1902Of the 412 men with a single Test appearance, poor Fred Tate is probably the most notorious one-cap blunder. John Arlott described his appearance as “one of the tragedies of the game”. With Australia 16 for three in the second innings, Tate dropped their captain Joe Darling at square leg. Wisden reckoned that, had Darling gone, Australia would have been dismissed for 50 or 60. Instead he added 54 with Syd Gregory to help set a target of 124. England lost by three runs – with Tate the last man out, for four. Australia’s win gave them a fourth successive Ashes triumph.

Harold Larwood to Bill Woodfull, Adelaide, 1932-33The moment the Bodyline series went nuclear actually occurred with a conventional field setting. When Harold Larwood felled Australia’s captain Bill Woodfull by striking him near the heart, the England captain Douglas Jardine loudly offered the loaded verdict: “Well bowled, Harold”. The gentleman was not for turning – although he didn’t mind turning the screw. Before the next delivery, Jardine theatrically moved his field into full, leg-side Bodyline mode. Later that day, Woodfull rejected an apology from the England manager Plum Warner. “There are two teams out there,” he said. “One is trying to play cricket and the other is not.” Not everyone agreed. Wisden initially said Jardine captained “like a genius”, before revising its opinion a year later.

Eric Hollies to Don Bradman, The Oval, 1948Four runs, three cheers, two balls and one unforgettable anticlimax. Sport may be box-office, but it has always had a fascinating aversion to happy endings. For two decades Don Bradman lorded over the Ashes like a colossus, scoring 19 centuries in 37 matches and taking part in five series wins. In his final innings he needed four runs to finish his career with a Test average of 100. But after receiving his cheers from the England players, he was bowled second ball by a googly from Eric Hollies. In a sense, the failure immortalised Bradman. 99.94 is one of sport’s most evocative numbers – and a handy PIN for forgetful cricket fans.

Arthur Morris to Denis Compton, The Oval, 1953Given sport’s crescendoing nature, it is a little surprising that the Ashes has more memorable first deliveries than final ones. The exception is 1953, when Denis Compton pulled the part-time trundler Arthur Morris for four to give England their first Ashes triumph in 20 years. The crowd charged on to the field and formed a human beard in front of the pavilion. The shot produced cricket’s “They think it’s all over” moment – even if Brian Johnston’s commentary is often misquoted as “It’s the Ashes!” Wisden, giddily hyperbolic as ever, said it was a “most welcome victory in Coronation year”.

Jeff Thomson to David Lloyd, Perth, 1974-75After a decade of Ashes series dominated by draws, 1974-75 was cricket in the raw. England’s batsmen had unusual concerns. Their biggest fear was not so much getting out – it was getting out alive, as Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson put the Poms to the slaughter. There were no helmets, and the boxes were on the gossamer side of flimsy. When David Lloyd was hit in the middle order by Thomson, he went down like a man who saw parenthood flashing before him, and had to retire hurt. Lloyd called it “a crisis in the Balkans”. There was certainly a crisis Down Under: England were thrashed 4–1.

From Harry Boyle to Steve Harmison, Rob Smyth tells the story of 131 years of Ashes cricket – in ten balls

A brief history of time


Craig McDermott to Ian Botham, Edgbaston, 1985Ian Botham’s Ashes trilogy of 1981 didn’t just define his career: it defined the Ashes. Yet, in many ways, nothing summed up his superheroism and hold over Australia better than this delivery in 1985. Botham, wielding a dangerous willow and an even more dangerous mullet, came to the crease with England 572 for four, and monstered his first ball down the ground for six. His seven-ball 18 humiliated Australia, who were left foaming with impotent rage. They lost five wickets that evening, and with it, in effect, another Ashes series.

Shane Warne to Mike Gatting, Old Trafford, 1993Shane Warne’s Ball of the Century is a reminder that you can often judge the brilliance of something by the levels of incredulity and confusion it engenders. Mike Gatting ooohed, thinking he had been beaten. On Test Match Special, Jonathan Agnew said “Gatting is taken on the pa… he’s bowled!” Even Warne was surprised when he saw the video. Soon he would understand the parameters of his genius, and so would England. Warne is still the only man to take 100 Test wickets in a foreign country; many of that century owed a debt to the ball that got Gatting. With one delivery, he set up camp in the subconscious of English cricket.

Shane Warne to Andrew Strauss, Edgbaston, 2005There were so many JFK deliveries in the 2005 Ashes that they barely need revisiting. But there was one seldom-discussed ball at Edgbaston which summed up England’s approach throughout a summer in which they almost always took the risky option. After England had got off to a flyer, Shane Warne was brought on to restore order. Andrew Strauss charged down the track to the fourth ball and dumped it back over Warne’s head. It did not affect Warne’s influence on the series, but it showed that – despite the wearyingly familiar embarrassment of Lord’s – England were no longer afraid of Australia.

Steve Harmison to Justin Langer, Brisbane, 2006-07You did not need a degree in Symbolism and Tone-Setting Studies to spot the difference. In 2005, Steve Harmison had given Justin Langer a second elbow on his right arm with the second ball of the series; 16 months later, he bowled the first delivery straight to Andrew Flintoff in the slips. A build-up of unprecedented intensity had spanned the 437 days between the series, which was coincidentally the number of sweat beads on Harmison’s right palm. Australia were on top before a legal delivery had been bowled in the series, and went on to record the first Ashes whitewash for 86 years.

Rob Smyth is a freelance writer based in Kent

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Thank heavens for the motor drive! Without it, I’d have been stuck with a rather more explicit – and much less publishable – image of this incident. (In fact there is an indelicate photo from a moment earlier that hangs in the downstairs loos of a few friends…) But taking a sequence of images in rapid succession allowed me to get an image that could be seen by a wider public. We’re back in 1975, at Lord’s for the Second Ashes Test, and England are stodging their way to a draw. There wasn’t much entertainment on offer, and many had repaired to the Tavern. Someone promised £20 to this chap – his name was genuinely Michael Angelow – if he ran on to the pitch naked, and the result was international cricket’s first streaker. Appropriately enough, Angelow was fined £20 at Marylebone Magistrates Court, but as his friends had a whip-round, he was quids in. I also had a remote control camera looking down the wicket, but in the excitement – and surprise – forgot to press the shutter. Alan Turner, Alan Knott and Tom Spencer see the funny side of it all.

Eagar’s Eye 9



From the Archive Wisden 1973

Australia soon avenged their defeat at Manchester in a contest which will be remembered as Massie’s match. The 25-year-old fast bowler from Western Australia surpassed all Australian Test bowling records by taking 16 wickets for 137 runs; in all Tests only J. C. Laker, 19 for 90 for England against Australia in 1956, and S. F. Barnes, 17 for 179 for England against South Africa in 1913-14, stand above him. Moreover, Massie performed this wonderful feat on his Test debut, the previous best by a bowler on his first appearance for his country being as far back as 1890 when at The Oval, Frederick Martin, a left-arm slow/medium-pacer from Kent, took 12 for 102 for England against Australia on a pitch that had been saturated by rain.

Not for the first time, particularly in recent years, England were badly let down by their specialist batsmen, who failed lamentably in all respects. From the start they allowed the Australian bowlers to take the initiative and their excessive caution met with fatal results. Illingworth won the toss for the seventh consecutive time, and one must admit that the hard fast pitch – it remained true to the end – was ideal for men of pace. During the first three days, too, the atmosphere was heavy and ideally suited to swing. Massie maintained excellent length and direction and his late swing either way always troubled the England batsmen. The conditions would also have suited Arnold, but England’s best bowler at Manchester was suffering from hamstring trouble and on the morning of the match was replaced by Price, who proved rather disappointing. That was England’s only change, whereas Australia brought in Edwards and Massie, who had recovered from a strain. Both were making their Test debuts, and for the first time Western Australia had four representatives in the Test XI.

One must also stress the important part Lillee played in Australia’s victory. Perhaps he was inspired by his six for 66 in England’s second innings at Manchester.

Anyhow, although this time his reward was confined to two wickets in each innings he looked a far better bowler. He had tidied his long fast approach of 22 strides, he was truly fast and he sent down far fewer loose deliveries. Massie capitalised on the hostility of his partner.

A light drizzle delayed the toss and the start for 25 minutes. Australia lost little time in taking the initiative, Boycott, Luckhurst and Edrich being removed for 28 runs before any substantial resistance was offered. At times Massie bowled round the wicket, but Smith and D’Oliveira raised the score to 54 for three at lunch. Afterwards, D’Oliveira struck three fine boundaries only to be leg-before to Massie’s slower ball, whereupon Greig proceeded to hit his third successive fifty for his country.

Greig and Knott enabled England to make a satisfactory recovery in their stand of 96, but immediately after tea, at 146, Knott spooned Gleeson gently to midwicket where to everyone’s amazement Francis dropped the catch. In the end both batsmen fell to casual strokes, but Illingworth and Snow played well so that at the close of a momentous and exciting first day England were 249 for seven.

Next morning the new ball was due after two overs and Massie snatched the remaining three wickets and led his team back to the pavilion. Of the 36 bowlers Wisden lists who have taken eight wickets in a Test innings, only A. E. Trott, for Australia against England at Adelaide in 1895, and A. L. Valentine, for West Indies against England at Manchester in 1950, had previously accomplished the performance on their Test debuts.

A superb century by Greg Chappell made the second day memorable after Australia had received early shocks in the loss of Francis and Stackpole for seven runs.

Ray Illingworth’s England won the First Test of the 1972 Ashes, but Australia unleashed a secret weapon for the Second, as Wisden editor Norman Preston describes

Massie attackAt Lord’s, June 22, 23, 24, 26, 1972. Australia won by eight wickets.


continued overleaf



Ian Chappell set a noble example as captain, leading the recovery with an aggressive display. He used his favourite hook to some purpose while his brother remained strictly defensive. Ian struck one six near Smith before he fell to a fine running-in catch that Smith held rolling over near his ankles.

Snow, if not so fast as Lillee, bowled splendidly and soon induced a catch from Walters, but Greg Chappell, in for three hours before he hit his first boundary, now took charge, excelling with the off-drive. Edwards gave valuable support, but with the light murky Illingworth brought on Gifford and then himself, tempting Edwards into indiscretion for Smith to bring off another fine running catch on the leg side. Chappell duly completed his hundred on the stroke of time and Australia wound up 71 behind with half their wickets intact.

On Saturday the gates were closed at 11.10 with 31,000 inside. Greg Chappell lasted another hour and a half, batting altogether for six and a quarter hours, and in his splendid upright style hit 14 fours. Australia, who did not wish to face a huge target in the fourth innings, went ahead through another gallant display of powerful hitting by Marsh. He struck two sixes and six fours in his 50, which came in 75 minutes, and Australia gained a useful lead of 36. Snow, five for 57, alone of the England bowlers excelled.

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efforts of Lillee and Massie. The England collapse – half the side were out for 31 – began when a fast shortish ball from Lillee lifted and Boycott, instead of dodging, preferred to let it strike his body while his bat was lifted high. It bounced off his padded front left ribs over his shoulder and dropped behind him on to the off bail. It was most unlucky for Boycott as well as England. Obviously, the Australians, having captured so valuable a wicket so cheaply, now bowled and fielded like men inspired. Luckhurst had no positive answer to Lillee’s pace and soon went, to be followed by Edrich, who was compelled to flick at a late outswinger that would have taken his off stump.

Again, Smith, getting right behind the ball, kept up his end, but the remainder were bemused by Massie’s accuracy and late swing which meant that at the end of a miserable Saturday for England they stood only 50 runs ahead with nine wickets down.

It remained only for the weather to stay fine on Monday for Australia to gain their just reward. Gifford and Price put on 35 in the best stand of the innings, but Australia needed only 81 to win, and Stackpole saw them comfortably home.

With 7,000 present on the last day, the match was watched by just over 100,000 (excluding television viewers) and the receipts of £82,914 were considered to be a world record for a cricket match with the possible exception of India.

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To celebrate the 150th edition of the Almanack, we invite you to pick the best XI from the last 150 years. And if your selected side closely matches the one chosen by the Wisden editorial team, you could win one of three prizes – see below.

The guidelines are simple: anyone who played

“Sticky Wickets” – the second album by the Novello Award-nominated cricket tragics otherwise known as The Duckworth Lewis Method – was released on July 1. (It takes as its cover artwork an event also witnessed by WisdenEXTRA regular Patrick Eagar, though from a different angle… )

From the blistering psychedelic rock of the album’s title track, through the delicate day-in-the-life portrait of “The Umpire”, to the top-notch 80s funk-pop of “Line And Length”, “Sticky Wickets” is a definite all-rounder – and one brimming with quintessentially British/Irish charm.

Also appearing in The Duckworth Lewis Method’s first team on the new recording are Henry Blofeld on “It’s Just Not Cricket”, David Lloyd on “Boom Boom Afridi”, Daniel Radcliffe on “Third Man” and Stephen Fry on “Judd’s Paradox”.

For your chance to win one of ten copies of “Sticky Wickets”, send an email by July 31 (with “DLM competition” as the subject line) to [email protected], giving the answer to this question: who faced 80 deliveries before scoring his first run – a record for any player in Ashes history?

Choose your Wisden XI

Win one of ten copies of “Sticky Wickets”

COMPETIONS COMPETIONS COMPETIONS COMPETIONS COMPETIONS COMPETIONS COMPETIONS

cricket from the 1864 season onwards is eligible, so you could choose Bannerman or Bradman, Grace or Gooch, Hammond or Hadlee, Murali or Marshall, Trumper or Tendulkar… Assemble your team in batting order, marking the captain and wicketkeeper, and email your entry to [email protected].

1st prize

2nd prize

3rd prize

£100 worth of Bloomsbury Sport titles, a subscription to All Out Cricket magazine and a subscription to Wisden’s new cricket quarterly – The Nightwatchman.

£75 worth of Bloomsbury Sport titles, a subscription to All Out Cricket and to The Nightwatchman.

Ten prizes of a subscription to All Out Cricket and to The Nightwatchman.

Closing date for entries is October 1, 2013. The decision of the Wisden editorial team is final.

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Ah, this is another from the Edgbaston Test of 1975. The Australians were wearing thick sweaters in that photo of the whole team except for Thommo, but it must have been wet as well as cold, as I took this during a rain break. I’d got to know the Aussies a bit in ’72, but the next year I went on tour with them to the West Indies – I think there were only two photographers in total – and we really got on. In those days there was no problem going in to the dressing-room and, as they knew me well, there’s a natural air to this one. Dougie Walters is closest to the camera. He had a job with Rothmans, and you can guarantee that in any shot of him he’ll have placed a pack somewhere – there it is just behind his right hand. In the background you can see Bruce Laird, Rod Marsh and Gary Gilmour watching TV. Dougie is playing cards with Rick McCosker, cigarette in hand, and isn’t that a cribbage board on the table? Don’t suppose you see many of them in 21st-century dressing-rooms.

Eagar’s Eye 10



I am, of course, honoured to be invited to propose a toast to 150 editions of John Wisden’s Cricketers’ Almanack. I am, of course, disturbed by the fact that I have been alive for the publication of 69, nearly half – 46% – of these magnificent tomes. I am, of course, fortunate indeed that in 1973 I could afford to buy a complete set of Wisden for just £750. Even allowing for rampant inflation at various times since, and for the fact that a complete set then was a mere 110 volumes, it was still a snip.

While I am without any hesitation paying tribute to all 150 Almanacks, there is one edition that will always hold a special place in my heart, because it was the first one I owned, as a nine-year-old: the 1954 edition, covering the events of Coronation year, notably England’s long-awaited recapture of the Ashes, in Aussie hands for 19 long years since way before the Second World War. But Don Bradman had finally retired, and the tide slowly and enticingly turned.

Everything in that 1954 Almanack fascinated and obsessed the nine-year-old – he was even unaware that “I See The Moon” by the Stargazers, “Secret Love” by Doris Day and “Such a Night” by Johnny Ray were fighting for the No. 1 spot in the hit parade, or that Julian Slade’s delightful Salad Days had scored a rare British musical triumph in the West End. He did notice Roger Bannister’s four-minute mile in May, and the near-total eclipse of the sun, conveniently in a geography lesson on an unusually sunny day in June. (Incidentally, a song that is still heard today was top of the pops in 1864 – “Beautiful Dreamer” by the immortal American songwriter Stephen Foster.)

Sunny days were rare in 1954: it was one of the wettest and gloomiest summers for many years (no one blamed climate change), but the nine-year-old dived over and over again into the 999 pages of a whole new world, not too upset if yet another day of the Pakistanis’ inaugural tour was washed out, if

he could read of his new heroes, Len Hutton and his team. And there was Hutton in the 1954 Almanack’s first photograph, acknowledging the congratulations of the crowd at The Oval with his left hand, cigarette in the right.

In Wisden the boy improved his knowledge of at least four school subjects of great importance – history, geography, mathematics and English. Cricket might have been played in the reign of Edward I, Holkar defeated Bengal in the Ranji Trophy Final, numbers lined up in beautiful and logical columns, Neville Cardus wrote of Lindsay Hassett.

Wisden has changed mightily in the six decades since that volume, much more so than in the six decades before 1954. The changes seem to have accelerated in the 21st century, to the point where Wisden veterans such as myself have a little trouble finding our way around. New-fangled ideas such as colour photographs, appreciation of women’s cricket, pages devoted to games of a mere 50 overs each, and even more pages devoted to an even shorter version of the game, played mainly in foreign parts – these concepts would amaze the young readers of the 1950s, almost as much as they would have the readers of the 1890s. And yet the Almanack is also unchanging – the 150th issue another magnificent brick in the wall of the greatest game – as it has been, since 1864, an explanation of the triumphs and sometime follies of its practitioners, its followers, its commentators, a record of its excitements, its routine, its romance, its greed, its literacy, its vulgarity, its life.

To misquote both Kipling and C. L. R. James: “What do they know of England who only cricket know?”

Well, quite a lot, actually, thanks to Wisden. The toast is 150 editions of Wisden.

This speech has been reproduced with the kind permission of lyricist and author Sir Tim Rice

When Tim Rice proposed the toast to 150 editions of Wisden at the Almanack’s launch dinner in April, he was taken back to 1954, Len Hutton – and his school curriculum

An all-round education

The struggles of the national cricket team are viewed as nothing short of an emergency in sport-loving Australia. Government intervention was required, with the Ministry of Sport ordering a public inquiry that formed the basis of a Green and Gold Paper entitled Australian Cricket in Crisis: The Great Challenge of Our Age. As leaked to Tyers & Beach.


Documents

WISDEN EXTRA