by Arunabha Sengupta
Burge: The Lion of Leeds ran the headline of Phil Tresidder in his article for Daily Telegraph. Then he hit the town with the Australian scorer Dave Sherwood.
When Tresidder and Sherwood popped in to hear Sir John Barbirolli and the Halle Orchestra, there was no seat left. At least so it seemed, until Tresidder told the doorman, “We’re with the Australian cricket team.” They were soon sitting in prime pews. At the end of the concert Tresidder was tapped on his shoulder. It was Sir John himself. “Mr Burge? I’m Sir John Barbolli.” Tresidder explained that he was not Peter Burge. “You’re not?” Sir John sounded disappointed, but he was charming nonetheless. “Even so, please come up to supper.”
Peter Burge had created such an impression that even if someone was mistaken for him it was good enough for the maestro.
There was good reason for it. Afflicted by a grape-sized growth on his left foot diagnosed as a neuroma, Burge had had an operation before the tour. It had kept acting up and he was on crutches, unable to sleep, with hardly any run under his belt. At the Randolph Hotel, unable to sleep and in considerable pain, he had been visited by Alan McGilvray. They had talked and split a bottle of scotch till 3.00 am in the morning.
At Headingley, Burge had walked in to bat on the second day with Australia in a strong position, 124 for 2 in reply to 268. He had scratched around for his first few runs. And then, three overs after tea, it had been 178 for 7 with Burge on 33 and Neil Hawke walking out to join him.
Soon Fred Trueman was unleashed to bring the innings to a quick end. Burge, having pushed and prodded at Titmus and Gifford, suddenly found a lease of life. Trueman kept bouncing and Burge kept carting him. When he pitched up he cart him regardless. Favell, responding to Dexter’s demands, pitched up and was nonchalantly driven through the covers.
By the end of the day Australia were 283 for 8. Burge 100 not out. No wonder Sir John was so keen on having even his proxy as his dinner companion.
The next day Burge took his score to 160. Australia finished on 389. The Test was won and that was the only result in the series.
Peter Burge had learnt never to give his wicket away as a nine year old. He had scored 223 for Baranda and retired because it was really hot. Jack Burge, a Queensland Cricket Association administrator, had got stuck into him, “Why did you retire? Always make them get you out.”
His father was sometimes an encumbrance. When he was the manager on the 1955 tour of West Indies, a team meeting was arranged to agree that Peter could call him Jack and not ‘Dad’.
Burge could hit the ball harder and longer than anyone in Sheffield Shield. But for over a decade he remained an enigma, taking 21 Tests to score his first century. It was only when Richie Benaud took over captaincy that he flowered.
“I suppose you want me to stick around, Richie,” he asked before going out to bat against West Indies at Adelaide, making yet another comeback in 1961. “Not at all, Peter,” replied Benaud. “I want you to belt the hell out of it.”
45 and 49 in that Test, 68 and 53 in the decider at Melbourne. In the following tour of England in 1961, he hit 181 at The Oval. Burge needed an understanding captain who gave him sufficient license.
Yet, it was the knock at Leeds, 1964, which made him. Denzil Batchelor commented, “It was not with batting supremacy nor bowling superiority that Australia eclipsed us. It was intestinal fortitude, or to put it briefly still: guts…. As for Burge, he was Australia himself.”
Burge had made the grade and more. “I finally felt accepted by cricket aristocracy. When we hot home for the next summer in Australia, I got an invitation to the Don’s place.”
Peter Burge was born on 17 May 1932.