Ambassadors of Goodwill: MCC Tours 1946/47-1970/71

By Mark Peel

Since Victorian times, the MCC had embraced the amateur ideal that cricket was more than a game. It was the very essence of camaraderie and good sportsmanship. Yet for all their evangelising, the game's privileged elite were part of a British establishment which revelled in its national prestige and imperial hegemony. And winning at cricket was essential to maintaining that stature. Ambassadors of Goodwill assesses the MCC's attempt to marry these conflicting objectives and foster goodwill within the Empire via long, formal overseas tours. After the war, the amateur ideal suffered when Len Hutton was appointed England's first professional captain. His uncompromising leadership brought success on the field but discord off it. Managers were installed to restore diplomatic harmony but, with the growing upheavals of the late 60s, cricket became increasingly associated with nationality, race and professional cynicism. Ray Illingworth's controversial win in Australia in 1970/71 clearly signalled the MCC's waning influence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pitch Publishing
• Release date: Apr 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781785314100

Book preview

Peel

Introduction

‘THE very word cricket has become a synonym for all that is true and honest,’ declared the MCC manager Pelham Warner as he greeted the local press at the beginning of their 1932/33 tour to Australia. ‘An incautious attitude or gesture in the field, a lack of consideration in the committee room and a failure to see the other side’s point of view, a hasty judgement by an onlooker and a misconstruction of an incident may cause trouble and misunderstanding which could and should be avoided. This is the aim of the Marylebone Cricket Club, of which I am a humble if devoted servant, in sending teams to all parts of the world to spread the gospel of British fair play as developed in its national sport.’¹

Ever since Victorian times, Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) had fully embraced the amateur ideal that cricket was more than a game: it was the very essence of camaraderie and good sportsmanship. Yet for all their evangelising and moral posturing, the club’s privileged elite were part of a British establishment which revelled in its national prestige and imperial hegemony. Winning at cricket, as with other sports, was essential to maintaining that hegemony. ‘Beneath the stuffy, benign image of public service cultivated by British imperialism lay a more strident belief in the mission of the English people,’ wrote Richard Holt in his book Sport and the British. ‘Sports were not just the source of high-minded ideals, they were inseparably associated with the more down-to-earth, assertive and patriotic Englishness. … W.G. Grace was not an English national hero because he played the game (which he most emphatically did not); it was his boundless energy, his competitiveness, his huge stature, and simplicity that made him the quintessence of Englishness.’²

The ambivalence between Warner the high apostle of fair play on one hand, and the patriotic Englishman to whom winning was everything on the other, was exposed all too starkly in Australia 1932/33. His opening speech soon appeared to be mere humbug, since his captain, Douglas Jardine, instructed his fast bowlers to bowl persistently at the body of the Australian batsmen to counter the threat posed by the genius of Don Bradman. It prompted one of the most toxic exchanges in cricket, when the Australian captain, Bill Woodfull, bluntly told Warner during the third Test at Adelaide that one side was playing cricket and the other wasn’t. The Australian Board of Control for International Cricket (ABC) protested in a similar vein to MCC, and in time the latter came to accept that bodyline didn’t equate with their self-professed ideals of sportsmanship. They legislated against it and further buried the hatchet by ensuring that short-pitched bowling was all but absent in subsequent Ashes encounters during the rest of the decade.

After the horrors of the Second World War, the idea of playing cricket for mere pleasure was given renewed emphasis. Although the Britain of 1945 was no longer the imperial power of old, MCC still held sway within the cricketing universe. Their values of enterprising cricket, fair play and good fellowship were constantly reiterated, not least on tour, when England players were expected to represent their country off the field as much as on it. Given the growing discord within the British Commonwealth, the mass media’s attachment to winning and the greater financial rewards now available, living up to these ideals proved a tall order, as this book shows.

On 30 August 1946, British prime minister Clement Attlee reminded the MCC team on their departure to Australia that they were embarking on a goodwill mission, sentiments which found little accord with the Australian captain, Bradman (see Chapter 1). The greatest batsman of all time, Bradman had deeply resented bodyline, and, unaffected by the spirit of the Victory Tests of 1945, he played to win at all costs. His intentions were made plain from the beginning of the first Test at Brisbane, when he became embroiled in one of the game’s great controversies. Having struggled to 28, he edged fast bowler Bill Voce to Jack Ikin at second slip but refused to walk, claiming that the ball had bounced. The umpire ruled in his favour, much to the fury of England’s captain, Walter Hammond, who conveyed his disgust to Bradman at the end of the over. Although most present thought Bradman was fortunate to survive, he made the most of his reprieve, going on to score 187 and paving the way for an overwhelming Australian victory. The incident, however, left a legacy of bitterness between the two teams as Bradman took every opportunity to humble his opponents. ‘We are the first Ambassadors ever embroiled in war while on a goodwill mission,’ an England player told Australian cricket reporter Clif Cary. They kept their frustrations to themselves, and won the gratitude of a host nation lost in admiration for the mother country that had endured so much during the war.

During subsequent MCC tours, the amateur spirit prevailed both in good times – South Africa 1948/49 – and bad – Australia 1950/51 (see Chapters 3 and 4), but all this began to change when Len Hutton became England’s first professional captain in 1952. Reared in the austere Yorkshire dressing room of the 1930s with its will to win against all comers, Hutton brought this same uncompromising ethos to the England captaincy. Disdainful of foreigners and discouraging his players from consorting with their opponents off the field, he flatly rejected the hand of friendship offered by his West Indian hosts on tour in 1953/54 (see Chapter 6). While some of the political grandstanding, umpiring and crowd behaviour in the Caribbean left much to be desired, any sympathy for MCC soon evaporated because of their petulance on the field and condescension off it. Even though they fought back from 2–0 down to draw the series, primarily because of Hutton’s prowess with the bat, the tour is best remembered for all the wrong reasons. The repercussions alarmed the hierarchy at Lord’s enough for them to contemplate replacing Hutton as captain for the tour to Australia the following winter with the amateur David Sheppard, soon to become an ordained Anglican priest. In the end, they stood by Hutton, and he responded by becoming the first MCC captain since Jardine to win there. It was a notable achievement, but some of the gloss of victory was removed by his cynical tactics, most notably the slowing down of the over rate to preserve the energy of his fast bowlers and prevent the Australian batsmen from scoring quickly (see Chapter 7).

Following Hutton’s retirement in 1955, the torch was passed to Peter May, his vice-captain. A batsman of true class, May’s self-effacing modesty and integrity concealed a steely desire to win. Cast in the same attritional mould as Hutton, he pursued a policy of slow over rates and defensive field placings that nettled his opponents in South Africa 1956/57 and in Australia 1958/59, a tour tainted by allegations of throwing (see Chapters 8 and 9).

England’s 4–0 thrashing in Australia led to the break-up of their victorious side of the 1950s and its replacement by a younger, more conformist one in the West Indies in 1959/60 (see Chapter 10). Dismissed as no-hopers before they sailed, they played with great determination to win the series 1–0 owing to a decisive victory in the second Test at Port of Spain. Crucial to the success of the tour was the appointment of Walter Robins as manager. Robins was a former England leg-spinner, a leading cricket administrator and a forceful personality in the old-style amateur tradition, and his rigid discipline and trenchant views about how the game should be played weren’t shared by all his team, not least the captain, May – but under his leadership they proved to be perfect ambassadors, restoring MCC’s good name in the Caribbean after the recriminations from Hutton’s tour.

The one great blemish that Robins failed to erase was the defensive cricket which blighted almost every MCC tour throughout the 1960s. The lifeless wickets of the subcontinent hardly helped, nor did the cautious attitude of the players, so that MCC’s tour to India and Pakistan in 1961/62 provided scant entertainment to the 1.2 million spectators who watched the eight Tests (see Chapter 11). With Dexter’s under-strength team often living and playing in alien conditions, the six-month trip taxed their stamina and patience as they went down to India 2–0. For all his aggression as a batsman, Dexter’s captaincy lacked the same inspirational flair, and Robins, now chairman of the selectors, toyed with Sheppard leading the team in Australia that winter before sticking with Dexter. With Dexter as captain, Cowdrey vice-captain, Sheppard the moral conscience of the team and the Duke of Norfolk manager, the tour lacked nothing in glamour, especially Susan Dexter’s modelling assignments. The Duke and Dexter promised a summer of brighter cricket, but their words counted for nothing when the series ended in dreadful anti-climax, with both sides unwilling to chance their arm in the final two Tests (see Chapter 12).

With the amateur now consigned to history, MCC adopted a more informal air by cutting back on formal receptions and leaving their dinner jackets at home. Ushering in this new classless era was Mike Smith, who led MCC on successive tours to India, South Africa and Australia (see Chapters 13 to 15). Smith was an Oxford-educated amateur without any pretensions, and his unflappable, down-to-earth personality made him one of England’s most popular captains, and, with distinguished managers in tow, he presided over three successful tours with the minimum of controversy. Once again, the only thing lacking was entertaining cricket, and, after a turgid 1–0 series win in South Africa, MCC felt compelled to act. The following summer, they dropped England’s leading batsman, Ken Barrington, for a seven-hour century against New Zealand and invested Billy Griffith, the manager to Australia in 1965/66, with additional powers to promote brighter cricket. His mere presence seemed to galvanise the side into providing greater entertainment, and, although the final Test fizzled out in a rain-affected draw, leaving the series once again drawn, the critics held their fire.

Touring with MCC for six months at a stretch meant a long separation from wives and families. Even allowing for a certain stoicism by all parties, some coped better than others with the strain this placed on marriages. In time, those wives who could afford it began accompanying their husbands for part of the tour, raising the question of whether their presence was a help or a hindrance (see Chapter 16).

By the late 1960s, the growing political unrest and instability evident in many parts of the world began to seep into sport. Crowd disturbances marred Cowdrey’s tour to the West Indies in 1967/68, most notoriously the riot during the second Test at Kingston as England closed in on victory (see Chapter 17). It was to the credit of the side that they kept their cool in challenging circumstances, a warning of the storm to come the following year after MCC’s tour to South Africa was cancelled.

Once England had warmly embraced Basil D’Oliveira, the Cape-Coloured all-rounder who made his debut for his adopted country in 1966, the question of whether the South African government would allow him to tour there in 1968/69 became paramount. For all their mixed messages, Peter Oborne, the biographer of D’Oliveira, has shown conclusively that they conspired to keep him out with some collusion from elements within MCC, who were desperate for the tour to go ahead. Separate to this was the case of D’Oliveira the cricketer. Doug Insole, the chairman of selectors, always stressed that the decision to omit him was taken on these grounds and these alone. His words rang hollow with supporters of D’Oliveira and the many critics of the South African regime, but he was speaking the truth. Not only were the selectors unimpressed by D’Oliveira’s Test record in the West Indies the previous winter, his colourful lifestyle was such that Les Ames and Cowdrey, manager and captain respectively, didn’t want him in South Africa. The fact that he had a Test batting average of nearly 50 and had returned in triumph days earlier to score 158 against Australia at the Oval wasn’t enough to sway them. Both at the time and in retrospect, it was the wrong decision, compounded by the illogical reason they gave to justify it, but this didn’t mean that the selectors were racists, appeasers or any of the other pejorative terms flung at them. Two weeks later, Tom Cartwright, the Warwickshire medium-pacer, was forced to withdraw because of a shoulder injury and D’Oliveira, originally considered as a batsman, was now included as a replacement for a bowler. The volte-face was too much for the South African government, and prime minister John Vorster, accusing MCC of pandering to political pressure, refused to admit D’Oliveira (see Chapter 18).

Unable to tour South Africa, MCC went to Pakistan instead (see Chapter 19). Given that the country was engulfed by political turmoil, it seems incredible that they should have gone there in the first place. The result was catastrophic. After countless changes to the itinerary and severe disturbances during the first two Tests, which placed the safety of the players in jeopardy, a student riot in the final Test at Karachi finally put paid to the agony. As MCC bowed to more democratic times and relinquished their control of England tours to the newly formed Test and County Cricket Board, the nature of touring was changing. The missionary role to which MCC had attached such importance was giving way to shorter, more intense trips which focused primarily on success on the field, evident on the tour to Australia in 1970/71 (see Chapter 20). There were those in the hierarchy who thought that Ray Illingworth’s success in wresting back the Ashes came at too high a price in terms of sportsmanship, but this was a minority view as cricket entered a new and more turbulent era.

Chapter 1

Australia and New Zealand 1946/47

IN July 1945, Clement Attlee’s Labour Party won an overwhelming victory with its promise to build a new, fairer world out of the ruins of the old. Yet alongside this mandate for change there was a yearning for familiarity. Cricket, like everything else, had been severely disrupted by the war, but MCC, the private gentlemen’s club which had governed the game since the late eighteenth century and was renowned for its feudal outlook, was in no hurry to move with the times. Untouched by a government which affected little interest in controlling sport – although Attlee himself was an ardent cricket lover – the authorities at Lord’s continued to place their faith in leadership by amateurs, social deference and imperial solidarity. Critical to their brief was the organisation and management of England’s overseas tours, which had become ever more frequent since countries such as India and the West Indies had gained Test status. In an era where communication and sporting contact were limited, the arrival of an MCC team in distant parts was a cause of immense excitement. Those representing the club were constantly reminded of their ambassadorial role throughout the six-month trip, which placed great store on protocol and hospitality, something some teams found easier to live up to than others.

In the summer of 1945, the country had revelled in a wonderfully entertaining series between England and the Australian Services XI. Captained by Walter Hammond and Lindsay Hassett respectively, the two teams, espousing the new mood of optimism, played in a spirit of friendship unimaginable in Ashes encounters pre-war. Not only did they stay in the same hotel and change in the same dressing room, they tempered their competitiveness with a lighter touch, which provided them with some of the happiest cricket of their careers. ‘This is cricket as it should be,’ noted Hassett. ‘These games have shown that international cricket can be played as between real friends – so let’s have no more talk of war in cricket.’³

During these matches, the Australian Services manager Keith Johnson sounded Lord’s out about an MCC tour to Australia in 1946/47. With Britain still reeling from the effects of war and no obvious replacements for pre-war players such as Kenneth Farnes and Hedley Verity, both killed on active duty, Lord’s thought that such a tour would be premature. The ABC, however, persisted and at a farewell luncheon for the Australian Services XI at London’s Claridge’s Hotel on 1 October, Dr H.V. Evatt, Australia’s foreign minister, who had close links to the ABC, made the case once again. Confronted with such a request, MCC quickly relented. It was the least they felt they could do for a country which had contributed greatly to the Allied war effort and which, for all its new links with the USA, continued to strongly identify with Britain and its Commonwealth of Nations.

Despite some speculation that the team might fly to Australia to reduce the time spent away from home, Lord’s stuck to their traditional policy of travelling by boat. Such a journey, they said, gave the players the opportunity to relax at the end of the season and get to know each other, but with the date of departure set as 31 August 1946, there was little time for the selectors to experiment. Hammond, a professional turned amateur when he assumed the England captaincy in 1938, remained in charge for the home series against India in 1946; and, given his continued prowess with the bat, he remained the logical choice to lead in Australia, age notwithstanding. Friends advised him not to go – he was 43 and struggling with his fitness – but the lure of leading MCC in Australia overrode all other considerations.

The rest of the party had very much a familiar feel to it, with only three under the age of 30 – hardly ideal for a tour of Australia, where the stifling heat and vast grounds placed a great emphasis on stamina. Laurie Fishlock, the Surrey opening batsman, and James Langridge, the Sussex all-rounder were, like Hammond, over 40; Bill Voce, the Nottinghamshire opening bowler, at 37, was no longer the tearaway of bodyline infamy, and Dick Pollard, the Lancashire fast bowler, at 34, had lost his best years to the war. Len Hutton, Cyril Washbrook, Bill Edrich and Denis Compton, along with Hammond, constituted a formidable batting line-up, but the bowling lacked penetration. Much would depend on Alec Bedser, the Surrey opening bowler, and Doug Wright, the Kent leg-spinner. The full team was W.R. Hammond (captain), N.W.D. Yardley (vice-captain), A.V. Bedser, D.C.S. Compton, W.J. Edrich, T.G. Evans, L.B. Fishlock, P.A. Gibb, J. Hardstaff, L. Hutton, J.T. Ikin, J. Langridge, R. Pollard, T.P.B. Smith, W. Voce, C. Washbrook and D.V.P. Wright.

With the early departure date (shipping arrangements hadn’t returned to normal) and no break in their county commitments beforehand, the team struggled to get themselves properly prepared. Compton called the weeks before sailing the hardest in his life. It was his wife, Doris, who had to go and purchase his clothing and mark every article, which included ten pairs of white flannels, a dozen white shirts, a dozen pairs of white socks and two dozen handkerchiefs. Edrich, one of the last to be selected, had to arrange fittings for suits and dinner jackets – each player was given 100 extra clothing coupons for an Australian trip – and settle his private affairs for seven months. On Friday 30 August, Hardstaff played for Nottinghamshire before travelling to Lord’s for the farewell dinner in an agitated state. His luggage, labelled Perth, had been sent to Scotland; but, fortunately, owing to the efforts of the veteran baggage master Bill Ferguson, it was intercepted and retrieved in time.

At the farewell dinner at Lord’s, Attlee, the guest of honour, reminded the party that they were embarking on more than a cricket tour: it was a goodwill mission. Then, after receiving a rousing send-off from press and public at Waterloo station, they took the boat train to Southampton. As someone who had only returned home from Burma the previous October and struggled to adapt to domestic life, Hardstaff had mixed feelings about setting out once again. He was one of four survivors, along with Hammond, Fishlock and Voce, from the 1936/37 MCC tour to Australia. On that occasion, as the train made its way to Southampton, a pair of cricket-mad twins raced to Woking station from their home nearby to see it pass through. Ten years on, one of them, Alec Bedser, the solitary bachelor in the team, was delighted to be making his first tour of Australia, even though it meant an unprecedented separation from his brother Eric. Three days later, he was delighted to hear that Eric would be accompanying him after all, following a gift of £500, courtesy of Alfred Cope, the celebrated football pools promoter.

The SS Stirling Castle was a converted warship carrying several hundred war brides and their children to Australia. Compared with previous tours, the voyage lacked glamour. The accommodation was spartan and the strongest refreshment was orange juice, but the food – by home standards – was copious and highly appetising, causing the players to put on weight, none more so than Pollard and Voce, both of whom had been granted special army leave for the tour. On the first day, the team were mobbed by female autograph hunters as they played cards on deck.

Thereafter, things settled down and they helped look after the children while their mothers participated in the ship’s sports. They also amused themselves playing a variety of deck games until the sweltering heat of the Tropics put paid to that. Such was its intensity that at night Bedser, Pollard and Ikin decided to sleep on deck in deckchairs.

On 24 September, in beautiful weather, the Stirling Castle berthed at Fremantle, Western Australia, amid great anticipation from the locals. Cameras flashed, interviews were sought and autographs were requested as the team disembarked. The lord mayor of Perth officially welcomed them, and throughout their three-week stay they were given access to the most exclusive tennis and golf clubs, taken on fishing expeditions and invited to a variety show at Perth Town Hall. At the close, the show manager asked for a member of the tour party to say a few words, and Paul Gibb, hardly the most gregarious of individuals, was the man deputed to go up on the stage and do the honours. He admitted to being dumbstruck.

After a week of extensive net practice, the tour started with a gentle warm up against Northam and Country Districts, where every run scored was cheered by the local agricultural community. MCC won at a canter, but the real highlight of their trip into the bush was the marvellous hospitality accorded them. ‘The team has gone down well so far – as it is very friendly, and there is among most a real effort towards sociability,’ wrote the Daily Telegraph cricket correspondent, E.W. Swanton, to his sports editor, Frank Coles. ‘Offsetting this a little, Hammond has not quite caught on with the press. The first ship interview was rather sticky, and ever since he has been rather suspicious and defensive, except in the case of those he knows well. I think he tries to create a good impression, but is very self-conscious and anything but an easy mixer.’⁴

Swanton was flagging up a conundrum which became ever more evident as the tour progressed. Having seen Hammond’s social limitations in South Africa in 1938/39, he feared that the appointment of Lancashire secretary Rupert Howard as manager was the wrong choice. Howard, the owner of a thriving textile business, was a charming man who had managed the previous MCC side to Australia in 1936/37, but he lacked the strength of character to point the captain in the right direction. Swanton’s forebodings were strengthened on the way out by the baggage man, former England wicketkeeper George Duckworth, who intimated to him that Bryan Valentine, the highly popular captain of Kent, should have been captain instead of Hammond.

At first, these were but small clouds on an otherwise clear horizon as Hammond carried all before him. Ensconced in more luxurious accommodation than his team-mates on board ship, he participated affably in deck games and invited some of the players to his quarters to discuss the challenges ahead. On arrival in Australia, he was feted not only for his stature as one of the giants of the game, but also as the captain of MCC, out to re-establish historical links between the two countries. While no natural orator, he kept to his script at official receptions, even expressing the hope that his old rival Bradman would play in the forthcoming series, and won much gratitude by sitting with blind ex-servicemen in Perth, giving them a ball-by-ball commentary of MCC’s game against Western Australia. Crowds rose to him as he came in to bat, and, when visiting the Melbourne Tivoli to watch British comedian Tommy Trinder, he entered the theatre to a standing ovation. ‘Wally is intensely popular and wherever we go night and day he is recognized by all classes of people who come up to him to shake his hand,’ wrote Howard to Colonel R.S. Rait Kerr, the MCC secretary.⁵

Hammond’s double century in the opening first-class match against Western Australia further enhanced his reputation, but in both that game and the subsequent one against a Combined XI, his bowlers made little impression. After several weeks in Perth, MCC were given a fond farewell by the city as they set off on a two-day rail journey across the Nullarbor Plain to Port Pirie, an industrial port, where the railway line ran down the main street. Confined to non-air-conditioned coaches which were hot, dusty and uncomfortable, the players found sleeping difficult, but they relieved the tedium by playing cards and singing along to Pollard’s repertoire of jazz and arias at the piano.

An overwhelming win against South Australia Country XI was the prelude to their arrival at Adelaide, the most genteel of Australian cities and boasting one of the world’s loveliest cricket grounds. There they were immediately taken to a reception in the town hall, hosted by the lord mayor. As the players took their place on the dais, there was prolonged applause. The mayor called Hammond ‘one of the greatest sportsmen of all time’ and went on to remind his audience ‘how proud we are to be members of the great British Empire’. MCC’s game against South Australia assumed a greater significance once Bradman had announced his intention to play. A lot of water had flowed under the bridge since the Australian captain had been carried off the field at the Oval in 1938 with a broken foot. After being invalided out of the Royal Australian Air Force in 1941 with acute fibrositis – a muscular complaint in the spine – he worked for a stockbroking firm in Adelaide, and when that went bust in July 1945, he set up his own brokerage. The end of the war saw him play a few games for his club and state, but, with his health still suspect and a company to run, he missed Australia’s short tour to New Zealand in March 1946. Following complications with gastritis and with a towering reputation to protect, Bradman remained non-committal about his future as speculation reached fever pitch. In the end, public pressure and his desire to play again led him to ignore medical advice and make himself available for South Australia’s match against MCC, the first tentative step back towards the stage he had graced for so long. Entering at 26/2 in reply to the tourists’ 506/6 declared, a frail-looking Bradman struggled against Pollard and was missed twice during his innings of 76. ‘In my view, he is still a good player and will get plenty of runs against us but he is not the player he was,’ Howard wrote to Rait Kerr.⁶

After they had secured the better of a draw against South Australia, MCC’s overnight journey to Melbourne was stymied by a strike by Victoria Railways, forcing Howard to seek permission from Lord’s to fly instead. The team enjoyed a comfortable two-hour flight on a Dakota, pointing the way to an alternative form of travel on future tours to Australia. With centuries from Hutton and Compton and ten wickets in the match for Wright, MCC comfortably beat Victoria, regarded as the strongest state team. Unseasonally bad weather then seriously curtailed their next two matches, against an Australian XI and New South Wales, although not before Bradman had returned to prominence in the former. ‘Don batted very much better for Australian XI than he did at Adelaide and he is still a menace,’ noted Howard.⁷ Looking stronger and fitter than previously, he thrilled his countrymen by announcing his return to Test duty. His mere presence shifted the odds firmly in Australia’s direction, since they had unearthed a crop of new talent based around a formidable opening batsman in Arthur Morris, two exceptional fast bowlers in Ray Lindwall and Keith Miller, and a superb wicketkeeper in Don Tallon. England, in contrast, lacked youth and versatility, their pedigree in batting scant compensation for their frailties in the field and Hammond’s unimaginative leadership. Edrich recalled that he told the team on board ship that the state matches should be used primarily as practice for the batsmen, and that consequently ‘we got out of the way of winning’. In the match against Queensland prior to the first Test, Hammond’s captaincy was subjected to a withering assessment by Brian Sellers, Yorkshire’s abrasive captain, who was covering the tour for the Yorkshire Evening Post. If he gave another display like that, England stood little chance in the Tests, Sellers opined. Not only should he show greater consistency in his field placings, he needed to smile more and offer greater encouragement to his team.

Although Sellers’s remarks weren’t markedly different from those of many of his colleagues, his position as