The Valiant Cricketer: The Biography of Trevor Bailey

By Alan Hill

Three times an Ashes winner, Trevor Bailey is regarded next to Ian Botham as England's premier allrounder since the Second World War. He was a schoolboy prodigy at Dulwich College and won cricket and soccer blues at Cambridge University and an FA Amateur Cup winners' medal with Walthamstow in 1951-2. At the heart of the story is the fighting spirit of a loyalist that served England and his home county, Essex so well in a crisis. He was at his greatest when the tensions ran high, especially in one of the most celebrated of rearguard actions against Australia at Lord's in 1953. Bailey played in 61 Tests in which he became then only the second Englishman after Wilfred Rhodes to score 2000 runs and take 100 wickets. His cricket acumen in retirement brought him to the attention of another, listening public as a broadcaster on the BBC's Test Match Special programme.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Jul 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781909178021

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Also by Alan Hill

The Family Fortune – A Saga of Sussex Cricket

A Chain of Spin Wizards

Hedley Verity – A Portrait of a Cricketer

Johnny Wardle – Cricket Conjurer

Les Ames

Herbert Sutcliffe – Cricket Maestro

Bill Edrich

Peter May

Jim Laker

The Bedsers – Twinning Triumphs

Brian Close – Cricket’s Lionheart

Daring Young Men – The Story of England’s Victorious Tour of Australia and New Zealand, 1954/55

Tony Lock – Aggressive Master of Spin

CONTENTS

Foreword by Doug Insole, CBE

Introduction

1: PLAYGROUND OF DREAMS

2: NURTURING A CRICKET PRODIGY

3: OVERTURES OF A BEGINNER

4: THE BOIL AT SOCCER

5: ESSEX TO THE CORE

6: OPENING UP IN TWO HEMISPHERES

7: THE BARNACLE TAKES GUARD

8: COUNSELLOR IN TESTING TIMES

9: THE CRICKETING GYPSIES OF ESSEX

10: MARVELS AND MISHAPS ON THE VELD

11: THE BEST BEFORE BOTHAM

12: RECORD DOUBLE AT HOME

13: BEHIND THE MICROPHONE

EPILOGUE: AT HOME WITH THE BAILEYS

Bibliography

Statistical Appendix Compiled By Paul E. Dyson

Picture Section

Index

DEDICATION

Celebrating a proud cricket and teaching union

and recording my thanks to the Bailey and Wilcox families

for their memories of a great cricketer.

FOREWORD

by Doug Insole

Trevor was one of the very few young cricketers to establish a reputation during the war years. He was quite outstanding as a schoolboy, and featured prominently in the very limited amount of representative cricket that was played at that time. In consequence, much was expected from him on his demobilisation from the Forces in 1946, which is when I first met him, on the football field at Cambridge.

    When he first played cricket for the University, having enjoyed a few games with Essex in the previous summer, he was full of confidence, much of which was justified. He was the quickest bowler in England at that time and he saw his future as the leader of his country’s bowling attack, but he changed his mind rapidly when, after playing a full season, he realised that he was not strong enough physically to be a tearaway fast bowler.

    He then set about remodelling his action and his method, and over the next couple of seasons he developed into a fast-medium performer able to move the ball away in the air and back off the seam. He also decided, quite deliberately, over the same period that his greatest value as a batsman would be as a sheet anchor in the middle of the order. These were two pieces of self-analysis that typified his subsequent approach to the game.

If, in his very early years, Trevor was not the most popular man on the cricketing circuit it was largely because of his single-mindedness and his determination to succeed. He describes himself in his autobiography as spoilt, petulant and a bad loser but he was his own most severe critic and quickly became something of a perfectionist in respect of his own abilities. Over the years he became famous for his match-saving performances – some of which turned into match-winning efforts. The 1953 series against Australia probably provided his most appreciated contributions to the cause.

    Trevor was the most astute on-the-field tactician of his generation. His acute observations of the strengths and weaknesses of opponents proved invaluable to the captains with whom he played. My feeling is that over the years his merit as a cricketer has become devalued. Sir Ian Botham apart, he was England’s best all-rounder in the post-war years, and several of his achievements as an opening bowler for his country were remarkable.

    His value to Essex over two decades is incalculable and the loyalty and enthusiasm that he showed for his county was quite exceptional. As a friend, colleague and travelling companion over 65 years, he was great company. He was generous, had a good sense of humour and was intelligent. He was also a very good judge of a cricketer, as he demonstrated many times on Test Match Special, and a shrewd correspondent as he showed in his writing for the Financial Times and in several books.

    Trevor was a genuine all-rounder, in life as in cricket, where his contribution to the game on and off the field takes a lot beating.

INTRODUCTION

ANOTHER mighty oak was felled in 2011 to reduce still further the dwindling band of legendary cricketers from England’s glory days in the 1950s. Trevor Bailey, the amateur in status but the ultra-professional competitor in action, died in tragic circumstances in a fire at his residential home in Essex. The sadness at his passing so abruptly was worsened by the fact that he was physically unbowed. At 87, the threads of memory were broken but he was still able to recall his beginnings as a cricketer at the Alleyn Court Preparatory School at Westcliff.

    Look, he would invariably say, as he briskly escorted us to our car from his retirement home, just over the garden wall there was my old school. The adjacent school playing field was small enough, he said, for him, as a 12-year-old, to hit sixes.

    Trevor Bailey proceeded via Dulwich and Cambridge to gather the trinkets of fame in abundance. Yet I believe that his true heart lay in the closely-knit circle of family and friends in his native Essex. They adored him at Westcliff, remember his grandchildren, Laura and Luke. The town was justly proud of its famous son but equally were able to welcome him without reserve or deference. Trevor, in his turn, never forgot the debts he owed to his first cricket mentor and headmaster, Denys Wilcox, the former Essex and Cambridge captain, at Westcliff and other tutors during his halcyon days at Dulwich College.

    Westcliff was Trevor’s childhood home and, in a succession of family homes throughout more than 62 years of a devoted marriage to Greta, he never moved more than half-a-mile. As he said, it may not have been adventurous, but it made moving easier. One of the best named of his addresses, which often caused a round of laughter among cricket colleagues, was called The Drive.

    Trevor first played for the Westcliff club at the age of 14 and resumed his playing days there after his retirement from first-class cricket. As a boy, he had watched Harold Larwood and Hedley Verity bowl against Essex at the Chalkwell Park ground. It was so pleasant, he said, to be able to walk or cycle there, to and from home, or to hit tennis balls for his boon companion and favourite dog, Scruffy, to retrieve from the further reaches of the park.

    There was a tumble of reminiscences, as they revisited their glorious yesterdays, in one of the last reunions between Trevor and fellow veteran Test campaigners. The occasion was his 80th birthday celebration, one of a series of gatherings in London and at home in Westcliff. Trevor had succeeded Denis Compton as president of the Cricketers’ Club and the glasses were raised to him at this convivial meeting. Fred Trueman could be seen, hunched in earnest conversation with the Bedser twins, in one corner of the lounge. Tom Graveney and Reg Simpson, the batting stylists, were linked again on the card of guests. Talking to one and all, often at the same time, was Godfrey Evans, the master of merry-making ceremonies. It was said of Godders, the staggeringly athletic wicketkeeper in his heyday, that he was the best of his kind. Standing up to the vicious leg-cutters of Alec Bedser was a testimony to his greatness.

§

The measure of Trevor Bailey’s cricket apprenticeship and later eminence with Essex and England has been gleaned from a veritable army of collaborators. First and foremost has been the rich wisdom of Doug Insole, a close friend since their days at Cambridge University and later a Test and county colleague. I thank him, most sincerely, for contributing the foreword to my book. I am also much indebted to John Wilcox, the son of Denys Wilcox, for his generous and unstinting support in recalling the early days at Alleyn Court. For a private view of the Bailey family, I am deeply appreciative to them for the use of many previously unpublished photographs.

    I must also acknowledge the assistance and guidance given by Mrs CM Lucy, Keeper of the Archives, and senior fellow Terry Walsh in my researches at the Dulwich College library in recalling the exploits of one of the college’s most esteemed sportsmen. Jo Miller, at the Surrey CCC library, has been unfailingly helpful in providing photocopies of magazine reports. In Essex, Ken Preston, Keith Fletcher and Robin Hobbs have respectively contributed their own yield of memories. At the Essex county headquarters at Chelmsford, archivist Tony Debenham has given me the opportunity to examine the yearbooks covering Bailey’s career and additionally given me access to his own book on classic Essex matches, which highlight many of Bailey’s astounding all-round performances for the county. Repeated thanks are due to him for placing at my disposal many previously unpublished illustrations.

    I am also indebted to Bob Wallace, a Sussex neighbour and Essex cricket enthusiast, for calling upon the assistance of the Print Room at Lord’s to recreate the scorecard featuring the celebrated partnership between Bailey and Willie Watson against Australia in 1953. A copy of the card signed by my subject is included in the book. Mr Wallace makes the surprising observation that prior to his intervention the card of an historic match was unavailable at Lord’s. Fellow author Jonathan Rice has confirmed that he only had his publisher’s scorecard printed in his book on Lord’s Tests.

    John Woodcock, the doyen of cricket writers and a fellow member of the Cricket Writers’ Club, has made a number of telling observations on Bailey. While conferring the accolade of England’s best post-war all-rounder on Sir Ian Botham, he maintains that Bailey influenced quite as many matches during three consecutive Ashes-winning series in the 1950s. Doug Insole shares the widely held view that Bailey is second only to Botham as England’s premier all-rounder since the Second World War. Woodcock also reflects on a career of monumental achievement and pointedly refers to Bailey as one of the shrewdest of analysts in the history of the game.

    This is a theme taken up by another of my helpers, Frank Tyson, in emailing his views from across the world in Queensland. Tyson recalls his old England colleague as a counsellor whose acumen as a psychologist so often came to the aid of his captain, Len Hutton. Trevor was an original who thought up new ideas and was so conversant with the laws of cricket that he foresaw solutions before the problems occurred. Tyson adds in a neat footnote: The imperturbable man could easily have been designated as the ‘Sigmund Freud’ of cricket.

    Trevor Bailey will be remembered most of all for his fortitude in a crisis. He was at his best when the tensions rose to a fever pitch. One of the most celebrated of his rearguard actions was staged in the company of a fellow footballer-cricketer, Yorkshireman Willie Watson, against Australia at Lord’s in the Coronation Year of 1953. Trevor recalled that public interest was intense as the drama unfolded. It also marked a major turning point in his career and signalled his decision to cut out the frills and become the sheet anchor in England’s middle order. I was now regarded everywhere as the most limpet-like of stonewallers.

    Bailey especially revelled with bat and ball in his contests with Australia. His frustrated rivals were so often denied by the impenetrable thrust of the trademark forward defensive shot. The soubriquet of the Barnacle was never more fitting than on those steadfast occasions. It was said that trying to breach his defences was like trying to unlock a safe deposit box. Frank Tyson remembered how Bailey delighted in antagonising fast bowlers by playing the bouncers off the front foot, making contact just in front of his forehead before moving his head to one side and impishly smiling at his assailant.

    Peter Richardson, who opened with Trevor for England more times than with any other player, has referred to his friend as the concrete of the team around which the dashers could prosper. The understanding between them as batting partners led to a comparison with Hobbs and Sutcliffe and their use of the names in calling for runs – one here, Sir Jack or two, Herbert – added to the confusion of opponents. In this amusing charade it was Bailey who assumed the seniority of Hobbs. Why do you get the knighthood? asked Peter. Because I’m the better player, replied Trevor.

    Bailey’s links with cricket continued well beyond his playing days. He had already found a niche as a sports columnist on the Financial Times and in 1968 he embarked on a long-running assignment as a broadcaster on Test Match Special. Christopher Martin-Jenkins remembers how Bailey adopted the Dickensian tone of Mr Jingle in Pickwick Papers in his comments at the end of a day’s play. Very good bowler; bad day, he would pronounce, or good county bowler, struggling at this level. Martin-Jenkins recalls that he once called Bailey the greatest distiller since Johnny Walker.

    The happiest of testimonies in recent months have been the result of conversations with his family, children and grandchildren. Kim and Justyn Bailey and their sister Sharon have winningly described Trevor at home at Westcliff, hosting riotous parties for a vast circle of friends, how he never came to terms with modern technology, the reminiscent chuckles when he discovered that his grandson was just as disorganised as he had been in showing up without the right cricket equipment. The picture they present is one of a gentle man contented and at ease in his long and devoted marriage to Greta, who is cherished in all their memories as a lively and funny lady at the evening parties.

    Best of all is the knowledge that Trevor wanted me to write this book. I was privileged to enjoy his friendship over nearly 30 years and to be able to call upon him as a key witness on the deeds of others in my books on his Test contemporaries. Finally, to return to the cricket of a remarkable man, it is fitting to recall the words of another admirer, Tony Lewis. He wrote: To his colleagues of Essex or England he embodied the calculating tactician, the steel in their batting – the unwavering persistence of their bowling – the right man to have on your side.

Alan Hill Lindfield,

Sussex,

June 2012

Chapter 1

PLAYGROUND OF DREAMS

Trevor never forgot his roots as a cricketer and the debt he owed to his teachers. – John Wilcox

THE ghosts of bygone cricketers, as reflected in photographs along the school corridors, brought a surge of delight to an actor rehearsing for a play based on Alleyn Court Preparatory School at Westcliff-on-Sea. The script was written by Michael Wilcox, brother of John Wilcox, the former Essex cricketer, and it drew heavily on his days spent at the late Victorian school. The chalky smell, mingled with the odours of disinfectant and wood, evoked the hustle and bustle of the classroom for the visiting thespian. The clock was turned back for him, as a researcher, to recall the XIs who had batted their way collectively, and in some cases individually, to fame on the neighbouring fields of Crowstone Road.

    Among that assembly was Trevor Bailey who remembered his old prep school ground as beautiful and small enough for an under-14-year-old to hit sixes. His sporting aspirations were first fostered at Alleyn Court by Denys Wilcox, the son of the founder, Theodore Robert Wilcox, at 3 Imperial Avenue, Westcliff. Alleyn Court would never have come into existence had it not been for Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice in Wonderland. Carroll’s real name was Charles Dodgson. He was the cousin and a close friend of William Wilcox, who died in his early 40s leaving two young children, one of them Theo. The renowned writer donated part of the immense profits he made from his children’s stories to pay for their education and ultimately university at Cambridge. Without his generous support and, in time, the required qualifications, the venture of starting a new school would have been impossible.

    John Wilcox, the founder’s grandson, recalls that William and Lewis Carroll shared literary interests. In his book, Impressions of a Family School, he quotes items from Carroll’s diary and a letter. The first was written soon after William’s death and reads: Heard the news about my dear cousin and friend of thirty years. In a letter from Christ Church, Oxford, dated 7th February 1877, he wrote to the widow, Fanny: I have a favour to ask of you, that I might offer help towards educating your children. I rejoice to be able to do such a thing for dear William’s sake. And now will you kindly let me send you £30 a year, paid half-yearly in advance?

    Michael Wilcox, one of the beneficiaries from another generation, recaptured the desolation of his own bereavement in his play. He was only nine years old when his father, Denys, died from leukaemia in 1953. The lonely anguish of the boy in the play was similar to his own plight. John Wilcox explains: Usually, when children suffer a loss at home, school is a kind of refuge. You can escape into its dependable, never-ceasing rhythms. But for Michael and me, because we both lived at Alleyn Court, there was no escape.

    Trevor Bailey, as another pupil, always stressed the importance of the teachings of Denys Wilcox in his six formative years at Alleyn Court. He remembered the insistence on decent honest behaviour of the boys in their distinctive blue blazers, pink tie and cap. Trevor wore his school tie when, as an internationally renowned cricketer, he received the CBE from the Queen at the investiture at Buckingham Palace in 1994. That was quite revealing, says John Wilcox. Trevor never forgot his roots as a cricketer and the debt he owed to his teachers.

    There was, however, turning back the years, one episode at school when his behaviour fell below the accepted norm. Trevor was, by his own admission, at times petulant and a bad loser in the school sports. Table tennis was a major activity at Alleyn Court. There were eagerly awaited visits and exhibitions of their skills by world champions Victor Barna and Richard Bergman. Each year the boys also took part in a table tennis competition with the prize of a nice silver cup. Trevor, then aged ten, reached the final but lost to a boy three years his senior. The age difference was of little consequence to the distraught loser. John Wilcox remembers: Trevor threw his bat on the table and dissolved into tears as he ran out of the room. My father looked on at the tantrum, not necessarily as errant behaviour, but as a sign of someone who might one day be a champion. Contemporaries of Trevor in later years would reinforce the prediction and wryly observe that once he crossed the boundary rope he was ultra-competitive. Carefully judging the distress of his pupil was a wise act of tolerance by the master and, as the years progressed, a fair assessment. John Wilcox recalls that much of the talk in his household was about Trevor striding briskly through the lowlands of cricket.

    Trevor Bailey, the emerging champion, was the younger son of Bertram and Muriel Bailey. His father was a civil servant at the Admiralty in London and keen on sport. From his mother Trevor was bequeathed a lifelong love of literature. He was transported into other imaginative worlds. Muriel read to him from a very early age, not the usual childhood fare, but extracts from classic fiction, with Dickens as a favourite and colourful chronicler. Trevor was an enthralled listener and he developed an insatiable appetite for good books.

    His brother Basil was a kindly and benevolent companion but more like an uncle since he was 11 years Trevor’s senior. So, Trevor was essentially the only son and, as he said of himself as a boy, definitely spoilt, a bad loser because winning was important to me; rather selfish and useless with my hands except when hitting a ball. The simplest arithmetical problem baffled me but I was never bored as there was simply not time; I adored all ball games.

    Cricket and soccer dominated Trevor’s childhood. During the summer months the Bailey family spent their Sundays on the beach just a short stroll down from their home. The tent was pitched at around five in the morning and his parents did not declare close of play until nearly dusk and impending bedtime. Uncle Basil was a good natural cricketer and footballer but sport for him was not a serious business. He was, though, able to channel Trevor’s enthusiasm for cricket into a legitimate undertaking. He taught Trevor – in just one morning session – how to bowl overarm. The practice took place on the mudflats at Westcliff because there wasn’t enough room on the beach until the tide went out. Before the transition to proper bowling Trevor threw his tennis ball very strongly and accurately.

    The adults were naturally disconcerted because they were bowling normally and clearly at a disadvantage compared with Trevor’s powerful throwing. The tuition of Basil was one turning point; from then on Trevor did not want to go back to bowling underarm. He was, to his undisguised glee, now able to bowl bouncers at the adults.

    One remarkable example