by Adrian Runswick
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22 May 1970
A day earlier, the Home Secretary had stepped in. James Callaghan had met the Cricket Council of the MCC at the Home Office: “I want to hear from them their reasons for going on with the tour.”
Chairman MJC Allom and Secretary Billy Griffith had attended a three-hour meeting. The letter drafted during the session on behalf of Callaghan had made it clear what the government wanted. It had also made it clear that MCC had been rather naïve in their adamant obstinacy in insisting that the South African cricket tour should go on as planned
It had been as good as a Government directive. The Cricket Council did not even pause to take a vote. Hence, on 22 May, the announcement was made.
“At a meeting held this afternoon at Lord’s, the Cricket Council considered the formal request from Her Majesty’s Government to withdraw the invitation to South African touring team this summer. With deep regret the Council were of the opinion that they had no alternative but to accede to this request and they are informing the South African Cricket Association accordingly.”
And just like that, the tour was cancelled. Apartheid South Africa was struck where it hurt the most.
Peter Hain was 20. He had been the indefatigable chairman of the Stop The Seventy Tour.
When the Springbok side had arrived for the rugby tour in the winter, the campaign had dogged them at every step. From chants and marches, to running into the grounds and sit ins, to cuffing themselves to the goal posts or climbing them, to locking players in the hotel rooms to hijacking their team bus, the young, long-haired brigade had done everything to ensure that the cricket tour did not follow. They had remained active in the interim months as well, sneaking into press conferences in the Long Room, setting up impromptu cricket matches on the thoroughfare in front of the Grace Gates. It had been a campaign like no other. Innovative, hilarious, unpredictable and immensely effective.
The young brigade had won the day. They had actually changed the world. No normal sport in an abnormal society.
That evening, Peter received calls and visits from friends, many of them Black South Africans. A cable arrived from the Cape Reserve in his hometown of Pretoria, a simple message from some non-White friends: “And so say all of us.” Brevity was not just the soul of the wit here; it was also the brain and instinct behind survival. A slightly more elaborate message would have been flagged by the secret police.
That was what South Africa was all about. In terms of human rights, playing cricket with them and watching the action from a window in the Long Room came a distant second.
For the first time since Sharpeville, Black South Africans and Whites involved in the resistance had something to cheer about. For them it was a clarion call in the wilderness, a flash of light in the dark
50 years later, Peter Hain, now Lord Hain of Neath, has this to say to Arunabha Sengupta: “That victory came at a time when the internal resistance had been crushed, the leadership had for many years been in Robben Island, ANC had been suppressed, external campaign and internal resistance were very limited. It was a big, important victory for the anti-apartheid campaign. It was also very important for Nelson Mandela and the others to learn about it through the news blackout in Robben Island. Beyond that, White South Africans knew that the apartheid system was reviled across the world. At the same time they enjoyed collaboration, military support, economic and trade support and crucially they were welcome and feted at the international sports stadia of the world—whether it was Twickenham or Lord’s or Australia or New Zealand, they were given lavish hospitality and a big warm welcome. International sports participation was very important for them psychologically or practically as a way of reconciling international opposition to apartheid with being welcomed abroad. For the Whites it was a big body blow and for some it awakened the start of a reconsideration of their own attitude and future. For Black South Africans what it did was it connected into the struggle in a very profound way.”
In Apartheid: A Point to Cover by Arunabha Sengupta takes a detailed look at this social history through the prism of White and non-White cricket of South Africa, covering the turbulent apartheid era of 1948-1970 while recalling in detail the fascinating cricket that took place during that period. All through the social history is told alongside descriptions of the thrilling cricket contested by South Africa and the others during those two decades. 1950s and 1960s did see some fascinating cricket, on both sides of the South African colour bar.
And of course, the climax of the book is brought about by the incredible campaign.
The book has a foreword by Peter Hain himself.
If the following testimonials are anything to go by, it should be a valuable addition to any library—cricket or otherwise. Whatever I may have to say pales in comparison to the testimonials of the following gentlemen.
“It's written at a galloping pace … An extraordinary book.“ David Frith
“I am immensely impressed by the research that has gone into the book, the way so many threads are gathered together in telling the story. I love the flickering style of it, moving from scene to scene with such an eye for the telling detail. The use of the present tense makes it so immediate and, running through it all, there is a terrific sense of the injustice of apartheid. Full marks to Arun Sengupta for taking a well-worn subject and creating such an original book.” Stephen Chalke
“Amazing material, the research has been amazing, and I particularly liked the way he has juxtaposed it all.” Mihir Bose
“A significant piece of work displaying Sengupta’s normal attention to detail.” Patrick Ferriday
“For cricket and sports lovers, as well as those intrigued about the most institutionalised infestation ever of racist politics into sport, this book is a real treasure trove.” Peter Hain
Purchase link:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/9492203030