Lives in Cricket No 22 - Jack Mercer

132 A scorer’s lot were called upon after lunch. At the time, an octogenarian called Frank Culverwell was scoring for the Welsh county and I, as a fresh-faced student on my summer vacations from university, would assist with the scoring duties towards the end of the summer if Frank fancied a game off. On this particular occasion, Frank and Jack had both dozed off after lunch in the little scorers’ box at the Cardiff ground, and the signals from the umpire had been acknowledged by the press, who occupied the adjoining room, rather than the dozing notchers who they did not want to embarrass, or wake up. Realising that nothing was being officially recorded, John Billot, cricket correspondent of the Western Mail , hurried round to where I was sitting in the stand close to the press box. ‘Can you quickly pop in, Andrew, and help Frank out?’ was John’s simple request so, at the end of the over, I went into the press box with my scorebook. ‘Have a seat here,’ said John, directing me into the front row of the box from which, for the next couple of overs, I waved back to the umpires if signals were needed. After a few overs, Frank woke up and after consulting with me and the press, copied up his book, before advising Jack about what had happened when he also awoke from his slumber. Based on his own playing experience, Jack took great delight in entering the runs scored by tailenders. His particular favourite was Jim Griffiths, who achieved a career batting average of just 3.33 during his thirteen years with Northamptonshire. If Jim managed to score a few runs, or even a boundary, Jack would enter the runs with a balletic flourish, before turning to his colleague and saying ‘Jim’s close to a career-best now!’ At this time, Jack still had his two homes – a flat in Northampton and lodgings in London – but he rarely talked about these or elaborated on the reasons for this arrangement. As we have seen, his habit of effortless affability had long enabled him to withhold saying too much about his personal experiences in both wars. Cricket would be a matter of general discussion, but his domestic arrangements were strictly off limits, even with his closest friend in the scorebox. Instead, Jack would be only too happy to discuss with his fellow scorers the chances of a horse in one of the afternoon races. He assiduously followed his namesake Joe Mercer, the long-serving rider who was champion jockey in 1979, and had won many of the country’s top races including The Oaks, St Leger and Two Thousand Guineas. Jack was a notoriously poor tipster, but he was most generous with his whims and hunches, and nobody would ever say that Jack was less than generous when it came to horse-racing. Towards the end of his scoring career, Jack sometimes got carried away with his stories so that he would forget to record the deliveries, whilst his post-lunch naps got a shade longer. A few veiled complaints duly reached the ears of the Northamptonshire secretary. ‘It’s going to be the end for Jack,’ the secretary said to Ted Lester, Yorkshire’s long-serving scorer when the two sides met at Wantage Road: ‘I’ll have to break it to him, but I’m dreading it.’ For many years, Ted had been one of Jack’s genial