Misty-eyed nostalgia merchant and AOC editor Phil Walker looks at the World XIs of the past, with a view to the future, in The Grubber this week.
In 1965, on a charter flight from London to Scarborough, three cricketers got to talking. Conrad Hunte of the West Indies, Hanif Mohammad from Pakistan and India’s Nawab of Pataudi were heading up to play for the World XI against an England XI. The unavoidable topic on that plane was the war raging in Kashmir between India and Pakistan.
Great cricketers as they individually were – and true (and lasting) godfathers of their respective cricketing nations – there was nothing like shared belief to empower the spirit. They drew up a statement there and then. It read:
‘We world cricket team express deep regret war between India and Pakistan. Coming from different countries background races religions we find unity on cricket field by reaching for common objective [sic] ’
Arriving in Scarborough, they showed the statement to their teammates. All put their names to it. The final communiqué contained the signatures of, amongst others, Garfield Sobers (WI), Colin Bland (SA), Wally Grout (Aus) and the World XI’s captain, John Reid (NZ).
The press did the rest. The coverage boomeranged around the world, finally returning to a rainy Scarborough, where, with classic English irony, this collective of world greats watched the clouds set in, along with 30,000 soaked folks huddled in makeshift stands. The three-day match was an unresolved washout. Very soon after, the war ended.
Now, don’t panic. I’m not about to make some grandiose connection here between the good intentions of a few cricketers in Scarborough and the ceasing of an international conflict. But I can’t help thinking there’s something in this tale anyway, something instructive, and old-world beautiful, in its intentions; the prestige attached to being a part of a multi-national dressing room, and the quality to be found within it, multiplying by 11 the individual power of the players, much as with the joyous post-war ‘Victory Tests’, adorned by Keith Miller et al.
The World XI was once an important part of cricket’s spirit. Great matches and performances entered into folklore. Now, thanks to the Aussie writer Stephen Walters, there’s an overdue book out that covers the World XI’s lost chapter in cricket’s story. It’s worth reading.
Here’s another tale. It’s 40 years on, and it concerns another World XI, the ICC version. They had been brought together in 2005 to play three ODIs and a six-day Test match at Sydney against the champion team, Australia. (Oh, and to achieve the “twin objectives”, as outlined by the then ICC chief Malcolm Speed, of “meeting event-revenue targets and achieving maximum global audience.”)
The matches were flat affairs. I remember my initial excitement at the idea shrivelling in front of the lax fare on offer. I thought it was going to be a modern take on an old classic, ushering in a marquee event, to be played every four years, between the best team in the world and the best players from the rest. It wasn’t.
The players didn’t really fancy it. Graeme Smith, the captain of a team featuring the likes of Flintoff, Tendulkar, Kallis, and Murali – shrugged that “maybe this is not ‘do or die’ for every individual here.” Australia won by a load, there was a silly old bugaboo about the Test’s authenticity (big-daddy scorer Bill Frindall refused to acknowledge its first-class status), and that was that. Game over before it had begun. Looking back on it now (and I did watch it, through the night, every bleedin’ ball), it still feels like a missed opportunity. The ICC’s plans were sound. They retreated too quickly.
Today, as international cricket rubs up against creeping IPL-ish privatisation, I’d like to see the RoW XI resurrected and backed. If America can infuse passion and meaning into the NFL Pro Bowl, when the best players of the gridiron season all come together for a showpiece mash-up, then cricket, with all its myths and past and glorious self-regard, should be able to find a smart new place for a grand old show. Forget the money, there’s enough of that going around as it is. This is about something else.
Click here to read Phil Walker on the plight of the solitary English spinner in The Grubber last week
The World Was Once Enough
Misty-eyed nostalgia merchant and AOC editor Phil Walker looks at the World XIs of the past, with a view to the future, in The Grubber this week.
In 1965, on a charter flight from London to Scarborough, three cricketers got to talking. Conrad Hunte of the West Indies, Hanif Mohammad from Pakistan and India’s Nawab of Pataudi were heading up to play for the World XI against an England XI. The unavoidable topic on that plane was the war raging in Kashmir between India and Pakistan.
Great cricketers as they individually were – and true (and lasting) godfathers of their respective cricketing nations – there was nothing like shared belief to empower the spirit. They drew up a statement there and then. It read:
‘We world cricket team express deep regret war between India and Pakistan. Coming from different countries background races religions we find unity on cricket field by reaching for common objective [sic] ’
Arriving in Scarborough, they showed the statement to their teammates. All put their names to it. The final communiqué contained the signatures of, amongst others, Garfield Sobers (WI), Colin Bland (SA), Wally Grout (Aus) and the World XI’s captain, John Reid (NZ).
The press did the rest. The coverage boomeranged around the world, finally returning to a rainy Scarborough, where, with classic English irony, this collective of world greats watched the clouds set in, along with 30,000 soaked folks huddled in makeshift stands. The three-day match was an unresolved washout. Very soon after, the war ended.
Now, don’t panic. I’m not about to make some grandiose connection here between the good intentions of a few cricketers in Scarborough and the ceasing of an international conflict. But I can’t help thinking there’s something in this tale anyway, something instructive, and old-world beautiful, in its intentions; the prestige attached to being a part of a multi-national dressing room, and the quality to be found within it, multiplying by 11 the individual power of the players, much as with the joyous post-war ‘Victory Tests’, adorned by Keith Miller et al.
The World XI was once an important part of cricket’s spirit. Great matches and performances entered into folklore. Now, thanks to the Aussie writer Stephen Walters, there’s an overdue book out that covers the World XI’s lost chapter in cricket’s story. It’s worth reading.
Here’s another tale. It’s 40 years on, and it concerns another World XI, the ICC version. They had been brought together in 2005 to play three ODIs and a six-day Test match at Sydney against the champion team, Australia. (Oh, and to achieve the “twin objectives”, as outlined by the then ICC chief Malcolm Speed, of “meeting event-revenue targets and achieving maximum global audience.”)
The matches were flat affairs. I remember my initial excitement at the idea shrivelling in front of the lax fare on offer. I thought it was going to be a modern take on an old classic, ushering in a marquee event, to be played every four years, between the best team in the world and the best players from the rest. It wasn’t.
The players didn’t really fancy it. Graeme Smith, the captain of a team featuring the likes of Flintoff, Tendulkar, Kallis, and Murali – shrugged that “maybe this is not ‘do or die’ for every individual here.” Australia won by a load, there was a silly old bugaboo about the Test’s authenticity (big-daddy scorer Bill Frindall refused to acknowledge its first-class status), and that was that. Game over before it had begun. Looking back on it now (and I did watch it, through the night, every bleedin’ ball), it still feels like a missed opportunity. The ICC’s plans were sound. They retreated too quickly.
Today, as international cricket rubs up against creeping IPL-ish privatisation, I’d like to see the RoW XI resurrected and backed. If America can infuse passion and meaning into the NFL Pro Bowl, when the best players of the gridiron season all come together for a showpiece mash-up, then cricket, with all its myths and past and glorious self-regard, should be able to find a smart new place for a grand old show. Forget the money, there’s enough of that going around as it is. This is about something else.
Click here to read Phil Walker on the plight of the solitary English spinner in The Grubber last week