by Arunabha Sengupta
Old Trafford, 1896.
Australia 412. England 231. Debutant KS Ranjitsinhji 62, wicketkeeper Dick Lilley 65.
In A Cricketer’s Book Neville Cardus writes: “The Australian captain sent us in again.”
The truth is that he had no choice. In 1894, the rule for follow-on had been updated, the required deficit became 120 from 80. But, follow-on was mandatory and would remain so till 1900.
But this is Cardus we are talking about.
Ranji conjured 154 not out in the second innings, England totalled 305. That left Australia 125 to win.
Cardus informs us “Iredale and Trott had comfortably made a score or so without loss.”
Well, it was Iredale and Darling who opened the innings and added 20, Trott came in at 26 for 2.
But then, it is Cardus.
Here is how the charming charlatan continues, describing Tom Richardson’s second innings effort.
“Then it was that Richardson’s face was seen to be grim—his customary happy smile gone. In the first innings he had bowled 68 overs for seven wickets for 168 runs. Yet he was here again, bowling like a man just born to immortal energy. And four Australian wickets were down for 45 in an hour … no man could expect him to bowl in this superhuman vein for long, thus did the crowd sigh and regret … but Richardson’s spirit did go on burning a dazzling flame. The afternoon moved slowly to the sunset—every hour an eternity. And Richardson did bowl and bowl and bowl, and his fury diminished not a jot. Other English bowlers faltered, but not Richardson. The fifth wicket fell at 79, the sixth at 95, the seventh at 100”
And supposedly the crowd, wondering whether it was possible, said, “Why, look at Richardson and see: England must win.”
Then: “With nine still to be got by Australia, Kelly gave a chance to Lilley … and Lilley let the ball drop. The heart of Richardson might have burst at this, but it did not. To the end he strove and suffered.”
And when Australia won Cardus described… “The players ran off the field—all of them, save Richardson. He stood at the bowling crease, dazed. Could the match have been lost? his spirit protested. Could it be that the gods had looked on and permitted so much painful striving to go by unrewarded? His body still shook from the violent motion. He stood there like some fine animal baffled at the uselessness of great strength and effort in this world … A companion led him to the pavilion and there he fell wearily to a seat.”
On 24 July 1945, a letter from James Agate, famous drama critic and friend of Cardus, was published in The Times.
Agate first mentioned the memory of his friend HJ Henley, “… after the winning hit Tom legged it to the pavilion like a stag and git down two pints before anyone else.”
After that he wrote of his own recollection: “…I can see two Australians and eleven Englishmen legging it to the pavilion with the tall figure of Tom Richardson leading by many yards…”
Then he explained that he and Henley were actually at the ground, Cardus was not, “Cardus, who watched the great match at the age of seven from behind the bars of his nursery window some miles away, had the secret of higher truth. But on the lower ground he taradiddled.”
Well, Cardus was not seven either … he was eight. He lied about his birthdate as well. But, that is Cardus. What is certain is he was definitely not at the ground.
As Brian Dobbs put it, “How much more satisfying a picture the dazed and stumbling Samson presents than the ordinary man, a good day’s work done, restoring his calories with a pint of bitter.
The only bits Cardus was accurate about were when he mentioned the fall of the wickets, using the same scoreboard he had so pompously denounced as an ass as his pitiable crutches.
Tom Richardson did capture 13 for 244 that day. Kelly was indeed missed with 10, not nine, to be got by Australia. (that is so minor an error that I won’t repeat that it was Cardus).
Cricket—A Weekly Record of the Game, talks laudably about his efforts but with much grounded and realistic prose.
Tom Richardson was a splendid fast bowler, perhaps short of great. A Surrey bowler, but splendid in the two Old Trafford Tests, whose 88 Test wickets came at 25.22, perhaps marred somewhat by a less-than-outstanding tour of Australia in 1897-98
For Surrey he was magnificent.
His 1775 wickets for them still a record, as are his 252 wickets in one season (1895), 927 wickets at The Oval, 17 consecutive matches with five wickets in an innings, and four hat-tricks.
Of his 290 first-class wickets in 1895, 176 were bowled and only 6 leg-before. Perhaps he would have claimed many more than his 2104 first-class wickets had the 1935 modification of the lbw law been in vogue.
The black curly hair and ubiquitous Victorian moustache gave rise to another curious myth about Richardson, which goes beyond Cardus.
Ralph Barker, David Frith, DLA Jephson and Simon Wilde keep repeating that he was of Romany stock, and some insist he was born in a gypsy caravan in Byfleet, Surrey.
There is no evidence of the gypsy connection. Even digging deep into his birth certificate and census records cannot throw any light on the Romany stock.
But Tom Richardson was indeed born in Byfleet, Surrey, on 11 August 1870.