A Founder Captain Writes....
The website has now pulled in a 4th player from the
original NAGCC XI that played against Ash in 1972. I have recently received a
message from Iain Smith, who captained the side in its second game and for the
2nd season, in 1973, in circumstances that he explains. He has sent
me the text of an article he wrote about the founding of NAGCC, and also a bit
more of his thoughts from our correspondence, which I reproduce below. Iain has
also offered his address and e-mail to anyone who wants to contact him, so if
anyone remembers him then please feel free to get in touch with him.
Incidentally I do wonder what effect those initial matches had on
the players, as of the 4 we have contacted so far one lives in Australia, one
in South Africa, one in California and now one in Portugal. Of course Lyle
Ellard is still in New Ash Green…what did you do to them, Lyle, to drive them
all away???
First
of all, I enclose a copy of an excerpt of something I wrote in 1998. The full
document has no title and begins with the sentence “here are the light-hearted
stories I can remember from my life.” I have one spare copy of this 141-page
magnum opus if any former New Ash Green friend is mad enough to request it. I
hope that what I have enclosed will enhance your Archive:
I answered an ad in the local rag for chaps who wanted to start
a village cricket team, attended the initial meeting, and gave guarded support.
An away match was then arranged for the end of September 1972, another for
October 1, and it was pointed out that a lot of work would be required on our
pitch for the 1973 season. We lost the first match with honour, our captain
Ivor Phillips making the top score and me the next best.
Ivor was the only genuine cricketer amongst us, and it was a
tremendous blow when he suddenly announced he would no longer be available. The
blow was quadrupled when I realised that I was going to be the next captain, in
addition to being treasurer.
We won a hilarious match on October 1, despite Eric Brindle and
another fielder colliding with one another on the boundary, leaving just enough
room for the ball to slide between them for four. The following year, 1973, we
lost the first sixteen matches in a row. Captain:-
I think the problems can be categorised into three sections.
First of all we were pretty useless. When I tell you that I was
one of the best batsmen and one of the best bowlers, you begin to get an idea
of the magnitude of our lack of prowess.
Secondly, there was our pitch. It was obviously the same for
both sides, but a skilful bowler can
make more out of a bad pitch than a less skilful bowler, and a skilful batsman
is better able to defend himself than a less skilful one. I found myself
constantly apologising for the state of the pitch in response to polite comments.
Some of these courteous comments consisted of whole sentences, like "since
you´re the captain, I´d like to tell you your pitch is a bloody disgrace."
Thirdly, there was the presence of Lyle Ellard. Lyle was (a) the
chap in successful charge of the maintenance of the outfield (b) an admirably
efficient Fixtures Secretary. In this latter capacity he had arranged an
enormous number of matches that first year, Sats. and Suns. As Captain I had to
"select" the team (translation "beg people to play"). Since
the
Lyle is a lovely person. Three of us kept the club alive that
year, and Lyle was No. 1. But in addition to being a great person Lyle was also
a lousy cricketer. As Captain, my natural inclination was to put him down for
No. 11, and often felt he should really have been No. 12, but I usually slotted
him in at No. 7.
Initially I also set my face against allowing him to have the
ball in his hands, because I knew how awful he was. But after we had lost the
first ten or so matches, I also took that bit between my teeth and tossed him
the ball to have a bowl.
Without a word or a sign from me, the field immediately spread
out to the four corners of the earth. Other than the wicket-keeper, there
wasn´t a fielder within forty yards of the bat. I had taken up observer status
at long-on.
Lyle ran in. You could tell he was concentrating, and without
tripping over himself he actually reached the wicket in good nick, parallel to
the stumps and with the right arm starting to move rhythmically in the correct
arc and direction.
But he did make a mistake. He forgot to let go of the ball in
time. By the time he remembered, the only possible way for the ball to go was
ten yards away from him, hard onto the pitch.
This turned out to be unbelievably cunning, because it had the
effect that the batsman was knotted over in laughter. As the ball dribbled
towards him, he took an almighty swipe. The swipe took his bat just above the
ball, which hit his stumps. Next man in.
As I looked around at this point, I saw five of my fellow
outfielders lying on the grass, thumping it with uncontrollable laughter. One
was being helped to his feet by a spectator. Bit of team discipline required, I
thought. "Man in," I shouted, with difficulty because I was between
fifty and a hundred and twenty yards away from all of them. Slowly and
shakingly they came to their feet. The new man took guard.
You could see Lyle concentrating again. Again he arrived at the
wicket looking good. Obviously he wanted to avoid his previous mistake of
letting go too late. So this time he let go far too early.
As the ball soared into the clouds I took a quick count, and
before the ball reached its zenith reckoned that at least three fielders were
already hors de combat on account of excessive mirth.
Balls take much longer to go up than they do to come down. Once
they start to come down the speed of descent increases quickly. It is also
extremely difficult to hit a ball plunging down almost vertically at you.
The batsman, faced with this challenge, failed. His wild swing
came nowhere near the ball. The ball hit his stumps.
Possibly Napoleon or
Thereafter the game assumed a normal course, and we lost.
A brief-ish personal note. I attended the initial meeting in Ivor
Phillips’ house in Punch Croft in the late summer of 1972. At the time I was
living at 160 Knights Croft, and was in the process of moving to 15 Lambardes,
where my ex-wife Barbara still lives.
After a passage of 32 years, you can more or less guarantee that
different people will remember different things. What I remember is that, at
that meeting, all of a sudden various attendees seemed to be assuming various
important tasks, and that all eyes then turned to me. Feeling the assembled
eyes burning in on me, I hastily volunteered to be treasurer, a job I fulfilled
until early 1975.
We had the first match against Ash, which is well documented in
your Archive. After that match Ivor Phillips said he wasn’t available for the
next match. This, and his subsequent decision not to play in the 1973 season,
were body-blows to me. I did not know then, and still less do I know now, why
he took that decision. Obviously there are a lot of good possible reasons.
I knew immediately that Ivor’s departure robbed us of our only
genuine cricketer. But the even worse news came five minutes later, when a
group headed by, if memory serves me right, Jim Harbinson and Alan Avery, told
me that I was the people’s choice to be the next captain.
Well, if you look at that situation from one point of view, of
the people available I think it is reasonable to say that I was somewhere near
the best choice. But if you look at from another point of view, namely “we’re
looking for a captain of a village cricket team in the glorious cricketing
My attachment to this letter gives you something of the
atmosphere of 1973. We did win three matches on the trot just after the 16
losses I have recorded in the attachment, and then we lost approx the last
three. I think, I am far from sure, that our winning streak has something to do
with Sam (see below).
I played under Sam’s
captaincy in the 1974 season, of which I have no very concrete memories, and at
the beginning of 1975 my job moved me to
I
have no objection to my address, tel no or e-mail address being publicised, and
would be delighted to hear from old friends.
Lugar da
Redonda,
Cortes,
P-4950-850 Monçăo,
Tel. (+351) 251 653 748
Fax. (+351) 251 651 703
This next
section may sound pernickety. The reason for that is that it is indeed
pernickety. I just pick up here on points which struck me on reading your
Archive.
-
The
1973 statistics which you show do indeed refer to a part-season. As I mentioned
above, we played between 20 and 23 matches in the 1973 season, I believe 22.
-
We
very much did not play all our matches away. We played a large number at home,
roughly half. That was part of the problem.
-
I
have sent an e-mail to Brian Buddle, apologising for one aspect in the
attachment . I have been firmly convinced for all this time that Lyle Ellard
was our Fixtures Secretary. Brian partially corrects me on your web-site. I
think that his and my comments are reconcilable with one another, but I may be
wrong.
I am
absolutely horrified to see that I appear in the official 1973 statistics as
having a worse batting average than Lyle Ellard. I did bat at No. 1, and he at
No 13. But even so. One does have a little personal pride.
This last section is deliberately distracted. These are just
thoughts which occur to me. It is almost exactly 30 years since I last donned
the white boots of New Ash Green.
But there is one important point, and that is Sam. Now, I’m a bit
uncertain about Sam, because I see on the web-site a reference to “S.Baldekwar”
(spelling may be wrong). [Editor’s
Note – for more recent players the Sam in question was Sam Hadi, and not, I am
sure you will be relieved to know, Sharad!]
I am absolutely certain about the following things. 1. Sam was
the first genuine cricketer after Ivor Phillips to play for the team. 2. Sam
was an excellent slow bowler and forceful bat. 3. I persuaded Sam to be captain
for 1974. 4. Sam was a quite extraordinarily nice chap.
I am less certain about the following. 1. Sam was of Pakistani,
not Indian, origin. 2. Sam’s surname began with the letter “H”. I believe it
was Habib, but offer no guarantee.
It is difficult for me, in my natural capacity of extremely old fart,
to criticise you, who have done so much. But at some point in your excellent
Archive you say (I do not quote, I try instead to summarise) “it wasn’t, as I
had always thought, the
Not quite.
The cricket ground was indeed cleared for the 1973 season. Long
before the first
The point is that the cricket and rugby matches took place on
entirely different parts of the playing ground.
It was extremely difficult to prepare the cricket pitch. There is
only one hero to mention here, and his name is Lyle Ellard.
The preparing of the rugby pitch could not possibly have been
done by one man, or even ten men. I was one of about twenty men who plucked
stones out of that damn’d soil. Logically, only a
minority of us could have cast a glance up to the heavens and said “I am glad I
am doing this because I am doing it for future generations of men.”
- - - -
I see I have not mentioned Alan Avery in the above or in the
attached. I often think of him with affection. It was he (as secretary), Lyle
Ellard and myself who kept the cricket club, such as it was, alive in 1973-74.
Iain Smith
And finally…Iain asked us to pass
on an e-mail to Peter Blunden, who has also been in contact from that first
side. Sadly at the moment we all seem to have lost his e-mail address, though I
hope we will recover it. So in order to increase the chances of it getting to
Peter I am going to publish the message below. Not only to get it to him,
though, but also because I think it rather accurately captures a certain amount
of the spirit of the early ‘70s….
Dear Peter,
You hairy Australian.
You are correct when you maintain on the
New Ash Green Cricket Club web-site that your captain used to work for Reuters.
I know. I was that captain.
The problem with you, hairy one, was
taking the ball out of your hands. You vividly describe on the web-site the problems
which a subsequent captain of yours had in