by Abhishek Mukherjee

Bill Reeves, born 22 June 1875, was a most singular character.

Make no mistake. He was a competent cricketer, as his record (over 6,000 runs and 600 wickets, mostly for Essex) suggest. However, it is the anecdotes – not all of which are true – that make him special.

Reeves was bowling for Essex. Former Notts wicketkeeper Thomas Oates was the umpire at the bowler's end. There was an edge. Perhaps following his wicketkeeper's instinct, Oates appealed, "how's that"?

"Out," responded Reeves, pointing his finger at the sky. The batsman left.

Note: This story is definitely false. Oates never umpired in competitive cricket before 1925 (or in First-Class cricket before 1927), four years after Reeves's last match. The others almost certainly are.

This is a story from Frank Chester, who was paired with Reeves as umpire several times. A Glamorgan medium-fast bowler was making his debut against Hampshire at Swansea.

He soon appealed for a leg-before. "Not out," announced Reeves.

At the end of the over Reeves had a word with the boy: "Look, son, when you appeal to an umpire in county cricket don't say 'how's that?' Say 'how's that, Sir?' You'll stand a better chance."

The boy nodded obediently. Sure enough, he hit the pad again, and went up instinctively: "How's that?"

Reeves did not move. The bowler remembered the conversation, then tentatively added, "Sir...?"

"Ah, that's better," winked Reeves as he raised his finger.

During a match at Leicester, the light deteriorated quickly, and Chester and Reeves had to stop play.

The familiar groan went up around the ground. A member of the crowd actually approached Reeves as he came off the ground: "What have you come in for?"

"We cannot stand the glare."

The man thanked and returned to his seat. What else could he have done?

The Old Trafford Test of 1938 was abandoned without a ball being bowled, but is remembered its many references in Alfred Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes.

Reeves collected his match fee from the Secretary's office soon after the Test. Outside the room he bumped into Hobbs, who decided to pull his leg.

Hobbs: Surely you are not going to take money for being idle for the past four days; you haven't done a stroke.

Reeves: I'm going to give the money to charity.

Hobbs: Charity?

Reeves: To the Unknown Warrior's Widow.

It is only fair to follow a Hobbs story would be followed by a Sutcliffe one. Cecil Parkin once appealed for a leg-before against Sutcliffe in a Roses match.

Reeves ruled not out, and rightly so. "At square-leg I could see the ball was far too high," Chester recalled.

But Parkin wasn't satisfied. "What was the matter with that?"

"Too high," explained Reeves.

In the next over Parkin hit Percy Holmes on the stomach. Holmes was clearly nowhere close to being given leg-before, but Parkin appealed nevertheless. Reeves did not oblige.

This was too much for Parkin: "Well, what was the matter with that one?"

“Too low.”

Yet another Roses match, and yet another appeal against Sutcliffe. This time the appeal was for run out, and Reeves turned it down. This was a close call, and the Lancashire fielders demanded an explanation.

They got one alright: "Well, he's got his old granddad here ... come 150 miles to see him bat. You don’t think I was going to upset the poor man's day, do you?"

Reeves had ruled a young Lancashire batsman LBW in a Roses match. Now, as the umpires came off the field at lunch, Reeves spotted the youngster sitting dejectedly in the pavilion.

He decided to have a word: "You weren't out really."

Whatever the boy had expected, it was not this: "Why did you give me out, then?"

"Well, the ground's a bit wet and I was thinking of your rheumatics. What would your poor mother have said to me?"

Jack Newman of Hampshire was bowling against Middlesex at Lord's. The striker pushed the ball towards mid-on, and non-striker Tom Enthoven set off for a run. Newman, in an attempt to stop the ball, managed to block Enthoven.

Enthoven fell short of the crease. Hampshire appealed, but Reeves ruled not out. This might have been "gentlemanly", but far from legal. Hampshire captain Lord Tennyson rightly issued a complaint, following which Reeves was summoned by MCC.

When Lord Hawke asked for an explanation, Reeves asked back: "My Lord, what would you have made if you had been the umpire?"

"I don't know!" came an exasperated response.

"A damned fine umpire you'd make, my Lord! You have had a week to think about it; I only had a second!"

Reeves got away with a warning.

Reeves once stood as umpire in a match where Alf Gover "bowled so many no-balls that [he] had a sore throat".

When the two featured in the same match again, Reeves requested Chester to stand at Gover's end. Gover duly overstepped, and Chester no-balled him. Then the Surrey captain decided to switch ends for Gover. Almost immediately Reeves went down on one knee to pray.

There was utter chaos at The Oval one day. Both batsmen were left stranded on the pitch before making a dash for Chester's end. Once there, they realised that something was wrong – and sprinted towards Reeves' end. Amidst all this, there was a wild overthrow.

When the stumps at Reeves' end were eventually broken, both batsmen were stranded mid-pitch next to each other. By this time Reeves was rolling on the grass laughing, and had no clue who had to be given out. He flipped a coin and ruled one of the batsmen out.

It took some convincing from Chester, who had somehow managed to stay calm, to reconstruct the entire scenario and take the correct decision.

Wilfred Rhodes had an unnatural stance. His front foot faced the bowler, and not sideways, when he took guard.

This did not impress a young Larwood: "What’s he doing that for?"

Reeves assured him that it was Rhodes’ natural stance, but Larwood, for some reason was not happy. The next ball, a very fast low full-toss, hit Rhodes' toe with an audible crack.

"How's that?" yelled Larwood.

"Bloody painful, I should think."