Tibballs - No-Balls and Googlies: a Cricket Companion

First published in Great Britain in 2006 by

Michael OMara Books Limited

9 Lion Yard

Tremadoc Road

London SW4 7NQ

New edition first published in 2013

Copyright Michael OMara Books Limited 2006, 2013

All rights reserved. You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-78243-028-5 in hardback print format

ISBN: 978-1-78243-074-2 in ePub format

ISBN: 978-1-78243-075-9 in Mobipocket format

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It is more than a game, this cricket, it somehow holds a mirror up to English society.

S IR N EVILLE C ARDUS

Whisper it softly but British sport is on the crest of a wave. Along with our unparalleled success at the London Olympics, a British cyclist won the Tour de France, our golfers are among the best in the world and we even have a Grand Slam-winning tennis player. In fact its a good job we can always rely on our respective national football teams to let us down, otherwise wed be in danger of being cheerful. Then there is the England cricket team, vying, at the time of writing, for the number one spot in the world and, perhaps more importantly to those who bear lifelong grudges, consistently ranked ahead of Australia. We might not yet have found a new Boys Own hero in the mould of Freddie Flintoff, but the current team gives hope for guarded optimism, although, being England, we have to prepare ourselves for the possibility that a one-day defeat to Canada or Vanuatu could be just around the corner.

Although many County Championship games remain attended by the proverbial one man and his dog, cricket in general in this country has enjoyed something of a resurgence of interest over recent years. At Test level, this can be traced back to the unforgettable 2005 series against Australia, when Flintoff was elevated to the status of bleary-eyed national treasure after his exploits with bat and ball helped England regain the Ashes for the first time in eighteen years. England needs a successful cricket team, for it is a quintessentially English game, albeit one that is ill-suited to the weather of a quintessentially English summer. Other nations might not see the point of a game which you can play for five days and still not get a result, but from its very beginnings cricket has appealed to the whole spectrum of English society, attracting the humble blacksmith and the lord of the manor alike. What other pastime could unite Mick Jagger and John Major?

Of course, at grass roots level, crickets popularity has never waned. I spent much of my childhood in the late 1950s and early 1960s following my father around the club grounds of south-east England. Like many a club player he was an all-rounder, generally batting at around number six although occasionally promoted to opener if someones car had broken down and bowling economical medium pacers that did a bit. Nobody, least of all him, I suspect, knew exactly what they did or how they came to do it. I spent most of these Saturday afternoons hoping that he would be out early so that I could gain some much-needed batting practice behind the pavilion or continue my lifelong quest to persuade a leg-break to turn. For despite modelling my bowling action on Australias Bobby Simpson, the only time my leg-breaks ever turned was when they came into contact with a wide swing of the opponents bat en route to being launched into the car park. At home games I was at least able to put my time to better use by working the scoreboard, a task that involved nothing more technical than hanging large numbered metal plates on to hooks. It was a blissful, stress-free existence, the only pressure coming from a fear of running out of certain numbers. A score of 66-6 with both batsmen on 6 was the stuff of nightmares. Meanwhile my mother would sit in front of the pavilion, knitting for England. On a good day, she could have both sleeves finished by first change. It was a scene repeated among families up and down the land.

To this day, the mere mention of the word cricket instantly conjures up an image of lazy summer afternoons, a village green, the reassuring sound of leather on willow, and the gentle ripple of applause. For all the appeal of the modern Twenty20 game with its instant gratification, it is an image that, in such uncertain times, we should strive to preserve.

No sport has a more fascinating background than cricket. Its long history is rich in colourful characters, many of whose feats are recounted within these pages. The rules themselves are a total mystery to the outsider, it has a language all of its own and there is a statistic to cover any eventuality. A cunning combination of subtlety, elegance and occasional brute force, at its best it is a game which is aesthetically pleasing. Has there ever been a more graceful sight in sport than an immaculately executed cover drive by the likes of Tom Graveney or David Gower? Equally was any sporting contest more compelling than Shane Warne trying to lure an obdurate batsman into an indiscretion? My hope is that this book will whet the appetite of those new to the game and provide nuggets of trivia and information to surprise even crickets most dedicated followers. All statistics are correct up to January 2013.

Finally, I would like to thank the team at Michael OMara for making this project a true labour of love.

Geoff Tibballs,

Nottingham, 2013

You have two sides, one out in the field and one in. Each man thats in the side thats in goes out, and when hes out he comes in and the next man goes in until hes out. When they are all out, the side thats out comes in and the side thats been in goes out and tries to get those coming in out. Sometimes you get men still in and not out. When a man goes out to go in, the men who are out try to get him out, and when he is out he goes in and the next man goes out and goes in. There are two men called umpires who stay out all the time and they decide when the men who are in are out. When both sides have been in and all the men except one have been out, and both sides have been out twice after all the men have been in, including those who are not out, that is the end of the game.