Lives in Cricket No 50 - Tom Emmett

114 At last he was ready, and I ran up to bowl, but just as I was about to deliver the ball he held up his hand. “Hold on, my little man, while I straighten the carpet.” he shouted, and then proceeded to pat the wicket on every spot where the ball was likely to pitch. Again he took his stand, and again I ran up to bowl, but his hand was again uplifted. Then, turning to Lord Harris, who was fielding somewhat close in, Tom asked “Do you value your life, my lord?” “Of course I do. Why?” said his lordship. “Because I’ve often killed men who stood close in.” replied Emmett. “Now come on, my little man.” And I was at last allowed to bowl. There was also the story of Billy Whitham, famous on Yorkshire grounds as the scorecard seller, who accompanied one of the touring sides to a small town to play a match against odds. Whitham was usually entrusted with the valuables of the players, and going into their tent he found a large note on a seat where Jem Lillywhite had changed. He put it in his pocket and went and sold his cards round the ground. In the middle of the game, Lillywhite suddenly realised what he had done and rushed off the field into the tent. He returned to the field and was consoled by his colleagues, who did not imagine he would find the money again. At lunch, Whitham told Emmett, who casually asked Lillywhite what he would give to anyone who found it. Lillywhite said two bottles of champagne. Emmett and Whitham allowed Lillywhite’s misery to continue for a while longer before handing the note back. No-one, not even W.G.Grace, could avoid being drawn into Emmett’s humour. Grace told the story that ‘I had been up to Edinburgh for a medical examination, and hurried back to London to play in a MCC match. As I was walking towards Lord’s ground, I overtook Emmett, who was also playing in the match. He knew why I had been to Edinburgh, and asked how I had got on. ‘Oh, all right, Tom,’ I said, ‘I have got my diploma’, pointing to the roll I was carrying in my hand. The wicket that day was very wet, and when I was batting, Emmett, who was fielding at cover-point, slipped and fell backwards in trying to stop a hard hit of mine. As he seemed slow getting to his feet I asked if he had hurt himself. ‘No’ he said as he pointed to an extensive mud mark on his trousers, ‘but I’ve got my diploma.’ ’ Emmett’s joking could also be quite elaborate. In one possibly apocryphal story, a touring party of the Yorkshire team, instigated by Emmett, made a strange request while playing a number of ‘exhibition’ games in a remote part of northern England. Li Hongzhang (1823-1901, a noted Chinese politician, general and diplomat of the day) was then visiting England. Emmett told the local committee organising the match that one of the politician’s staff was a good cricketer and had asked to be included in the visiting side. Consequently, it was reported: at a match against eighteen of a place not far from Carlisle a thorough Chinaman, with huge spectacles, a pigtail, flowing robes, and the gravest demeanour, duly appeared in the field. Emmett explained that the secretary of the team—conveniently absent—was the only Personality, performance and popularity