The Summer Field

49 Chapter Six Who Was A Cricketer? ‘For cricket is peculiarly the game of Englishmen.’ M.D. Lyon, Cricket (1932) The Yorkshire Post was disappointed in August 1914, when reviewing the Yorkshire second eleven’s season. The only batting newcomer at all praised was ‘a 19-year-old batsman of the Pudsey Britannia club’, Herbert Sutcliffe, ‘a capable right-handed batsman with youth on his side. In his movements on the field he looks every inch a cricketer, and possessing as he does a variety of good strokes, it would seem to be policy to persevere with him.’ A world war later, Yorkshire and England did. Though Sutcliffe in that 1914 season scored most runs at the best average in the Bradford League, what prompted the anonymous (as was usual then) reporter to call the unproven opening bat ‘every inch a cricketer’? Just as a youth might have hidden qualities, so old cricketers held on to theirs, even when old and fading – in the opinion of some. Why was Alfred Mynn left out of the Kent side to play MCC at Lord’s in May 1859? So another anonymous critic asked. ‘He appeared on the ground in excellent health and although termed a veteran [he was 52] we feel assured he could have done something for Kent [who lost by nine wickets]: at any rate his name in the list of his county would have been a “tower of strength” in attracting visitors if only to witness his style of play.’ Reputation, like promise, had to be judged, rather than measured like runs and wickets. Trial matches – whether between county second elevens, or a named ‘Test trial’ before England played — were the time to compare similar players. Except, what if you felt unwell or were run out? In May 1912 in The World of Cricket magazine, Hamish Stuart defended trials, suggesting a difference between being out of luck or out of form. He praised ‘young Hearne’ (presumably Jack, J.W.) for having ‘big match temperament’, ‘and that counts for much as everyone knows who has seen the effect – the deplorably demoralising effect — of anxiety upon the play of our batsmen in several recent Test matches in England.’ Whether someone had a cool enough character to handle a ‘big match’ – and a game against the neighbouring village could feel big to a lad or a stranger – was not necessarily proven if you made runs and took wickets; you could have been lucky. Likewise a trip, a blister or a dropped catch might spoil your day (and perhaps your temper). In short, arguing between outstanding cricketers kept former cricketers in paid work by lending their names to newspapers (which never asked in print if their reporter had the right temperament to cover a big match). G.A.Faulkner, for instance, in the