A journey with a strong Antipodean flavour, in this back-to-where-we-started trip Richard H Thomas looks at a trio dual internationals, two melancholic dashers of Victorian England and the most singular umpire of his age.
Billy Bowden
… arrived on the umpiring scene about four years after the end of Dickie Bird’s career, and it’s probably just as well the two never officiated together – mad as a box of frogs the pair of them, and not fond of sharing the limelight. There must have been a passing of some spiritual baton of eccentricity though, and despite catcalls from stage left (“a twerp” and “a show pony” said Boycott, “should be in a circus” said Ganguly), the New Zealander has had a distinguished career which, numerically at least, has eclipsed Barnsley’s finest. Kiwi journalist Steve Kilgallon reported in 2009 that “while he loves the attention, Bowden hates the accompanying media criticism and is desperate to be taken seriously.” But cricket wouldn’t be cricket without some crowd-pleasing by the man with the crooked digit. In a Mumbai ODI in October 2011 he signalled a four from Kevin Pietersen with what looked like an audition for the next season of Strictly. All in a good cause though – apparently it was in recognition of the All Black’s World Cup triumph over France. Billy’s birthday is April 11, and he shares it with a character from England’s Golden Age…
Arthur Shrewsbury
… the prolific England and Notts batsman. “It is said,” suggests Denzil Batchelor “that W.G was once asked who was the world’s best batsman – next of course, to himself. He replied at once in his high squeaky voice ‘What’s the matter with Arthur?’ Some say he said ‘Give me Arthur’; in any event the man to receive the accolade was Arthur Shrewsbury”. As it goes, the Grand Old Man may not have been so far from the truth – Shrewsbury was something of a hypochondriac and finally shot himself while under the mistaken impression he was suffering from something deadly. He was a careful and watchful batsman and the last professional captain of England until Len Hutton, while his century against Fred Spofforth at Lord’s in 1886 is acclaimed as one of the greatest sticky-wicket innings ever played. Eventually though, life got too much, with Pelham Warner reflecting that “Shrewsbury was the most modest and unassuming of men, but he played the game with intense earnestness and seriousness”. He played his final Test alongside another prone to melancholia….
Andrew Stoddart
… the Durham-born Middlesex allrounder and the original Victorian action hero. Captaining a winning Ashes campaign in 1894/95 and a successful rugby union career at centre for England would have been enough for most, but Stoddart was also a golfer of note. He was at his most Corinthian though in 1886 when playing for Hampstead in a club match against Stoics. David Frith writes that his pre-match preliminaries included dancing and poker. He kept winning at cards and the game concluded at dawn. It was hot baths all round, followed by a bracing swim. Still surprisingly chipper despite not a wink, he opened the innings. Long story short, after just over six hours and “an eight (four from an overthrow), three fives, 63 fours, 20 threes, 36 twos and 78 singles” he was c Kelly b Renny for 485. The night, however, was still young. After a pre-arranged tennis match and another bath, Frith reports our hero dashed off to his box at the theatre and a supper party afterwards, finally to bed “and it wasn’t nearly three”. Stoddart’s rugby union influence continues: the British Lions and Barbarians owe much to his pioneering spirit but depression did for him in the end, and he shot himself in 1915. Another dual international at rugby and cricket was….
Brian McKechnie
… who had a fairly modest international career but was the sort of handy allrounder that today would perhaps get a lucrative Twenty20 contract. This isn’t about statistics though. With a sense of timing and occasion reminiscent of the central character in The Rolling Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil, McKechnie was one of those people who was always around when stuff happened. To get my Celtic angst out the way first [ed - Richard is a proud Cardiffian] : in 1978 at Cardiff, Andy Haden fell – no, let’s get it right – launched himself out of a lineout and it was McKechnie, in one of his 10 appearances for the All Blacks, that broke Welsh hearts by coolly slotting over a penalty. Three years later, with the Kiwis needing seven to win, in a cricket match this time, he faced the last ball of the match in the last of his 14 ODI appearances when Trevor Chappell eschewed his normal military mediums for something altogether more controversial. Wisden called it a “furore that could haunt Australian-New Zealand cricket for a long time” but despite disgustedly flinging his bat, McKechnie shrugged it off quickly – “…an hour or two after the game, when we’d all had a shower and were back at the hotel, we were joking about it.” Reflecting on it, he says he wished it never happened. “When someone thinks Australia have done something to NZ they shouldn’t have, the underarm comes up again.” Another dual code Kiwi was…
Jeff Wilson
… who, as a young chap, turned out in a handful of ODIs without much distinction. But when he switched to rugby union it was a different matter. As an All Black and a flying full back or wing he crossed the whitewash 44 times in 60 Tests – that’s a better strike rate than Shane Williams or David Campese. With his rugby behind him, he made a shock comeback for the Black Caps. In February 2005, a full dozen years since his last ODI, he turned out against Australia at Eden Park. In what turned out to be his one and only crack at the shortest format of the game he got carted but entertained with a jolly 18 off 14 balls, albeit in a losing cause. The match – the first ever Twenty20 international – ended with a touch of uncharacteristic levity from Glenn McGrath. With the game safely in the bag and to everyone’s amusement, he pretended to roll the last ball underarm, à la Chappell. Joining in the fun, the umpire gave the McGrath the red card. That umpire was… Billy Bowden!
