“…the Nevill Ground is looking at its midsummer best for
cricket week. Kent is unusually rich in grounds…and many people vote the Nevill
the pleasantest of the lot”.
That could have been written now, at the end of the
nineteenth century or at any point in between. Certainly, it was my sentiment
when I
was there last July. Here, it was AP Ryan, reporting for The Times in 1967 on the perennial
Tunbridge Wells fixture between Kent and Sussex, the county border separating
the two being nearby, if not cutting through the ground as the story goes.
In 2017 there were
problems with the preparation of the pitch, with talk of moving the game to
Canterbury at the last minute. Standards are higher now than fifty years ago
when 253 was the highest of the eight innings, and Brian Luckhurst’s 126 was the
only individual score higher than 64. In comparison, 2017’s “questionable”
pitch saw two 350-plus totals and a 298 for two declared. That doesn’t mean
that the cricket is necessarily better, and a different balance between bat and
ball was essential for three-day cricket to work.
Hero of the week was Norman Graham, whose 22 wickets took
him back to top of the national bowling averages. UA Titley, taking up The
Times’ pen for the second half of the week, said that Graham brought the ball
down from a greater height than anybody since Farnes, the Essex quick bowler of
the 1930s (Titley may not yet have seen Tony Greig). “He only takes seven real
paces in his run-up, an economic approach, in direct contrast with others of about
similar pace, which enables him to bowl for longer periods than most.”
Kent’s two wins raised them to fourth place in the
Championship, six points behind the new leaders Yorkshire, who beat Northamptonshire by an innings thanks to a point-making unbeaten 220 from
Geoffrey Boycott. In less than a fortnight the great accumulator had made
two of only five double centuries made in 1967. In 2016 (when the Championship
consisted of 16 games per team rather than 28 as there were in ’67) there were
26 double hundreds; four-day cricket and “better” (ie batsman-friendly) pitches
the explanation.
The second test at Lord’s was a Boycott-free zone, with
Amiss coming in for him and Barrington moving up to open. India reverted to
their first-innings form at Headingley and were skittled out for 152. John Snow
and Warwickshire’s David Brown took three each. The pitch at Lord’s was fast
enough for John Woodcock to be thankful that a really quck bowler like Charlie
Griffith or Graham McKenzie was playing, though I think it would have been
quite fun. Besides, I doubt that McKenzie was any quicker than Snow, than whom
I have not seen a smoother or more rhythmical bowler play for England.
According to Woodcock, John Murray was standing further
from the stumps than any English keeper since Evans and Andrew to Frank Tyson at
his typhonic fastest in Australia in ‘54/5. Murray took a world-record equalling
six catches, but there was a hurricane brewing to the south-east by the name of
Knott that was to blow him out of international cricket within weeks.
I tweeted three general news stories this week. Paul Fox
was appointed Controller of BBC 1. Fox was a—arguably the—founding father of televised
sport in Britain and also edited Panorama.
His six-year tenure of the role has a credible claim to be the golden age of
British TV, as colour replaced black-and-white and programmes such as Parkinson, Dad’s Army, The Two Ronnies
appeared, with Fox the midwife (there were a fair few stinkers too). But what
caught my eye was his salary: £5,000 a year. The Bank of England’s
inflation calculator tells me that is worth £83,000 today, healthy enough
but not exceptional. The nearest equivalent role today—Director of Content—is
paid £325,000.
One of the most pleasurable things about rummaging
through the pages of The Times for 1967
is the parliamentary reports, detailed accounts of the day’s debates. Such
coverage has all but disappeared now, the press gallery apparently occupied
only by the writers of spasmodically amusing sketches. This week the House was
debating decimalisation, on the principle of which both main parties agreed,
while still arguing about the detail. Iain Macleod, shadow Chancellor, wanted a
ten-shilling base for the new currency, while Chancellor Jim Callaghan supported
the pound (as he frequently had to in more substantive ways in years to come).
If the decimalisation debate is a curiosity, that on Leo
Abse’s private member’s bill to decriminalise homosexual activity between
consenting adults is horrifying. The antediluvian attitudes that rumbled out
from Tory knights of the shire on the backbenches were shameful.
One may feel nostalgic for three-day cricket on uncovered
pitches, but, once more, a close look at 1967 shows that the present is a
better place to be.