Lives in Cricket No 17 - Fuller Pilch

to play in the county eleven.’ ‘Very well,’ I used to say, ‘Let me see him make a “good hands” against good bowling, and see what he is worth in the field, and if he is good enough he shall play.’ I didn’t much like gentlemen in the eleven unless they were heart and soul cricketers; they might be up late dining, or playing billiards or cards or what not overnight, and lose a match; but I knew a good one when I saw him. There were three whom he especially remembered: Mr Emilius Bayley, Mr Edward Banks, and Mr Edward Swann – the last was our long-stop very often – and they did work. Mr Bayley did not play often, but he was a fine long-leg and cover-point, and no mistake. He brought his name from Eton. Then Mr Edward Banks: I found him down Sandwich way, where his property lay. He and his youngest brother, Mr William, were the quickest between the wickets I ever did see, and Mr Edward was one of the smartest in the long-field. He was like a thoroughbred horse, for no matter how far the ball was off he would try; and when I sung out, ‘Go to her, Mr Edward! Go to her!’ he would outrun himself almost, and as sure as ever he got his hands to her, the ball was like a rat in a trap. Bayley was the most successful of these four players, scoring 236 runs at 13.88 for Kent in 12 first-class matches. Long-stop A fielder ‘condemned to hard labour’ according to Fuller, as he did little more than retrieve the ball as quickly as he could in the days of uneven pitches and the ball streaking or bouncing past a wicket-keeper without gloves or pads. As playing conditions improved, Fuller recognised the long-stop’s ability to stop balls rather than chase after them: ‘I think long-stopping is generally better now, for the ground is rolled for long-stop, and he is made one of the most important men in the field, and long-stop was looked on pretty much as a man who was condemned to hard labour; though my nephew, William Pilch, was as good as ever I saw.’ Walter Mynn was also pretty good in that position, and Fuller remembered that when his brother Alfred first arrived, ‘ne’er a man in England but his brother Walter would long-stop for him’ and Ned Wenman, as wicket-keeper, ‘didn’t stop every ball, or every other ball, perhaps, for he left his long-stop to do his own work. “What’s the good of Mr Walter Mynn for long-stop,” he used to say, “if I am to do all his work and knock my hands to pieces? No; let him do his work, and I will do mine.”’ Wicket-keeping When it came to the real work of a wicket-keeper, Fuller was certain he had played with the best one of all: ‘Just think of Ned Wenman behind the wicket: was there ever a better?’ Fuller recalled his expertise at stumping 122 A pipe in Fuller Pilch’s back parlour