This
piece sums up a week reported day-by-day on Twitter @kentccc1967. You don’t
have to have a Twitter account to view these tweets.
The first of the cricket weeks around which Kent’s home
matches were structured in
1967 took
place this week, at the unimaginatively named Bat and Ball Ground in Gravesend,
one of three venues in the north of the county—along with Blackheath and
Gillingham—that had only five years or so left on the first-class fixture list.
It has become a curiosity of Kent cricket that the team does not play where the
bulk of the county’s population lives, which is why playing a few games each
year at metropolitan Beckenham makes sense. I never watched cricket at
Gravesend but am pleased to learn that it is still a cricket ground, home to
Gravesend CC in the third tier of the Kent League.
The rain that submerged the early weeks of the season
washed away most of the first day of the Northamptonshire game, but the rest of
the week went well for Kent. There were centuries for Brian Luckhurst and
Stuart Leary against Northamptonshire, and for Colin Cowdrey versus Somerset.
Derek Underwood took 11 wickets during the week and Alan Dixon ten. Norman
Graham, the country’s most in-form bowler, took another five to make Somerset
follow on. The first innings lead against Somerset and the innings win against
Somerset (Kent’s first of the season in the Championship) made Kent equal on
points with third-placed Yorkshire, 16 behind early leaders Hampshire.
Mike Denness did not play against Northamptonshire having
been selected for MCC against the Indians at Lord’s, a traditional pre-test
series fixture and effectively a test trial. The England captain Brian Close
led MCC, the selection including seven uncapped players all of whom went on to
be test players. The Indians were blown away by John Snow in their first
innings, but the weather enabled them to salvage a draw.
Denness’s absence allowed Alan Ealham to make his first
appearance of the season. Along with Shepherd and Graham, here was a third
member of the team of the seventies in place in the early weeks of the 1967
season.
At Worcester, Jack Flavell and Len Coldwell—English
seamers from central casting—each bowled 19 overs unchanged to dismiss Somerset
for 80.
It is well known that a T20 match cannot be played unless
there is a bouncy castle on the premises, so that the young folk can elevate
themselves to a height where they can better appreciate the field placings. But
there is no such thing as a new idea, and there was to be a fair at Grace Road
for Sunday’s play against Sussex in 1967 with roundabouts and donkey rides, no
doubt a piece of enterprise from Leicestershire’s forward-looking
secretary/manager Mike Turner. Alas, a large crowd was disappointed when the
fair failed to turn up, as Alan Gibson reports:
It was an itinerant week in cricket. The rescheduled
second round Gillette Cup game between Yorkshire and Cambridgeshire was
allotted one day, but Headingley was flooded by a morning storm. A desperate
phone search around the Ridings revealed that play would be possible at
Castleford, a small club ground eight miles to the south-east. After lunch (The Times style guide for 1967
apparently has players taking lunch in the north, but luncheon in the south),
the teams made their way there only for another storm to leave puddles across
the field. The groundsman cut a new strip on which it was agreed that play
would commence and continue irrespective of the rain, as Gordon Ross (editor of the Playfair Annual and Playfair Cricket Monthly) reports:
That professional cricketers, especially Yorkshire
cricketers, should agree to play in these conditions seems astonishing to us;
presumably they regarded any game of cricket, however biblical the venue, would
give them a better chance than the toss of a coin. Yorkshire overtook the minor
county’s 43 for eight in the seventh over of their innings.
They wouldn’t have taken long to get there with Brian
Close driving. Close was fined £20 for driving at 55 mph in a 30 mph area this
week.
Ray Illingworth once said that the kindest thing his wife
ever did for him was to ban him from travelling with Close; later at Somerset,
being Close’s passenger was the one thing that could frighten the youthful
Richards and Botham, especially when he controlled the steering wheel with his
knees while turning the pages of the Sporting
Life.
It was a big week for football. Tottenham won the FA Cup
final beneath Wembley’s twin towers, beating Chelsea two-one in the first
all-London final. Now that the FA Cup has become a competition for reserve
teams it is hard to understand that the FA Cup final was the biggest sporting
day of the year. John Woodcock criticised MCC in The Times for not delaying the start of the match against the
Indians until Sunday so as to avoid a clash.
Tottenham’s goals were scored by Jimmy Robertson and
Frank Saul, both praised by Geoffrey Green for their wing play. Watching on
television that day turned me into a Tottenham supporter, for a decade or so at
least, so I was already spoken for when I watched Celtic become the Lions of
Lisbon by beating Inter Milan two-one in the European Cup final at Thursday tea
time (at that time because Lisbon’s misnamed Stadium of Light had no
floodlights). Geoffrey Green reports:
The Middle East was counting down to war between Egypt
and Israel, and the conflict in Vietnam continued, pushed onto the inside
pages. But 337 US troops were killed that week, so presumably Vietnamese deaths
on both sides of the divide were several times that figure, all for nothing as
we now know.
Pirate station Radio 390 was declared illegal, though “pirate”
is a bit of a misnomer in this case, as 390 was an easy listening station, the
Light Programme with a plastic cutlass. The story took my eye, not just because
I listened to 390 along with Radios Caroline and London but because from our
house we could see the Red Sands Fort in the Thames Estuary from which 390
broadcast. Friends of my Dad’s ran the tenders out to the station. Tony Benn
shut these stations down as Postmaster General.
But the big story of the week was Good News. Francis
Chichester was nearing home. Chichester, a pioneer aviator between the wars,
was about to become the first person to sail solo around the world. It is a
story that shows how far we have come in these fifty years. Now, such journey
would be live streamed and would have the remarkableness extracted from it as a
result. Then, once he was out on the open ocean, for weeks on end nobody knew
where he was, or if he was alive or dead. Then a grainy photo of a speck on the
ocean would be splashed on the front pages and we would update the map on our
classroom wall. Half a million were expected in Plymouth to greet him, a
measure of how the intrepid pensioner captured the public’s interest.
The people waiting for the fair at Grace Road probably
wished they had gone too.
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