It is serendipitous delight for trivia lovers that David Gower and John Morris were born on the All Fool’s Day. Gower, perhaps the most elegant batsman to take guard for England, in 1957. Morris, not quite as distinguished a Test cricketer, in 1964.
Serendipitous because on January 21, 1991, the two took a rather fateful joyride on a pre-War Tiger Moth even as England played Queensland at Carrara Oval during a rather horrendous tour.
Gower had played with captain Graham Gooch long enough to know that the austere skipper would not really be delighted with what he planned to do. Even though Morris had just hit a delightful century in the match.
So, Gower left for the ride with Morris in tow without a word to anyone else. The air-strip was close enough to the ground for the two to hasten back in case of a sudden batting collapse. On arrival, they checked to find that Robin Smith and Allan Lamb were still holding fort. And they took off in the ancient aircraft.
The planes were supposed to fly at heights over 2000 feet. However, Gower charmed the pilot into flying much lower. The Tiger Moth hovered over the ground at something more like 200 feet.
Lamb, having no doubt about the identity of the aviators, raised his bat like a gun and fired off a couple of rounds to shoot them down. But, the English dressing room remained blissfully unaware about the new ways two of their batsmen had devised to get on top of the bowling.
However, luck did not favour the brave duo. Adrian Murrell, a photographer covering the trip, thought that he recognised the passengers through a telephoto lens.
“That wasn’t you two up there by any chance, was it?” a suspicious Gooch asked them as they returned to the dressing room. Prompted by Gower, the two stuck resolutely to stout denial.
But, the damage had been done. One of the pilots had alerted the press and a circulating rumour claimed that Gower had intended to drop a water bomb on the pitch. The English team manager, Peter Lush, was asked for reactions — and he bristled with indignation.
The two adventurers were summoned for a hasty hearing in front of the team disciplinary committee. To the infinite chagrin of Gooch, Stewart and Lush, Gower and Morris were back at the airport to pose for another photographer, Graham Morris, who had missed the fly-by pictures.
From the shoot, Gower went directly to a dinner with David Firth, while Morris returned to the hotel. Gower observed later that Morris was: “John Morris puffed in shortly afterwards and was pounced on by this human volcano (Lush).”
A perceptibly nervous Morris dialled the restaurant and warned Gower that they were in hot water and that a choleric Lush was foaming at the mouth, demanding to see the curly haired stalwart at once. However, Gower already was tucking into a lavish dinner and splitting a bottle of 1987 McLaren Vale Chardonnay. Besides, he had been around for more than a dozen years and was not eager to be intimidated by a top brass eager to instil military discipline.
When he finally waltzed back after his rendezvous, he found three hand-written summons from Lush, scripted in exponentially increasing degrees of peevishness. Gower and Morris shuffled across to face the committee of captain, coach and manager. The three men looked at them with grim faces and set lips, the high school disciplinary committee written all over them.
Gower shrugged and provided them with the available options: “You can either be heavy about it or you can treat it as harmless prank.” The triumvirate had already decided on the former approach. And Gooch, from under his intimidating walrus moustache, voiced doubts about David Gower’s commitment.
It was indeed rather surprising that the immensely experienced Gower, an ex-captain and one of the greatest batsmen of his era, was not taken aside and dealt with separately rather than with a very junior player. In some ways it was a direct disregard for his credentials.
The decision was delayed till the eve of the fourth Test. Gower and Morris were made to cough up a fine of £1,000 each, the maximum punishment allowed by their contracts. For Morris, a junior player who received £15,000 for the whole four-month trip, that was quite a financial hit.
Gower’s reactions were as casual and cool as his crisp strokeplay. When Lush informed him of the fine, while also unravelling his intention to issue a press release labelling the incident ‘immature, ill-judged and ill-timed’, the southpaw responded saying that he was overreacting. To the press, Gower said that £1027 (the fine and the cost of the joy-ride) was a little too steep for a 20-minute flight.
For all Gower’s flamboyant reactions, decision did not go down well with him. The indifference for his seniority and feats cut him to the quick. His form plummeted to despairing depths. He scratched around for runs in the two remaining Tests, managing just 11 and 16 at Adelaide, and 28 not out and five at Perth. His relationship with Gooch, never cordial to start with, reached an absolute low.
And after the tour, he played just three more Tests before his illustrious career came to a sad, deplorable end. Morris, on his part, never played for England again.
Text: Arunabha Sengupta
Illustration: Maha