It was the day after my 19th birthday when this long-haired, cocky, loud-mouthed lad from Stoke-on-Trent was walking out to bat for the very first time in first class cricket. I was making my first class debut for Gloucestershire against Nottinghamshire at the beautiful Cheltenham College Ground. The Cheltenham Cricket Festival is steeped with history and holds the record as being the oldest first class cricket festival in the history of this great game of ours. The date? Saturday 10th August 1974, Harold Wilson was the Prime Minister and the Three Degrees were number 1 in the charts with their massive hit "When will I see you again".
I was sitting watching in the Pavilion with the rest of the lads. Gloucestershire were batting first and doing OK on 271 for 7, I was the next man in at number 10 and I was full of beans with plenty to say to anyone who would listen, We lost a wicket 8 down! "Brassy, you're in", "Good luck, mate" my team mates shout. Up I jump gloves on, a practice shot, deep breath and I’m on my way to the middle for my first taste of first class cricket, not quite as loud and cocky as I had been back in the Pavilion.
I was welcomed onto the ground by the square leg umpire Australian Ces Pepper with a "G'day, mate", I pass Derek Randall en route who gives me a nod and a wink and make my way to take guard. Two legs please I ask umpire Bill Ally, another one from the land down under, "That’s two, cobber", his reply. You could have forgiven me for thinking I was taking guard at the Sydney Cricket Ground, that was until I was brought back to reality when Mancunian Bill Taylor, the man who was going to bowl me my first ever delivery, welcomed me to the crease in his strong Lancashire accent: "Eh up youth shouldn’t thee be at school playing in the playground with thee mates? This is for big boys out here thee nost."
Now big Bill was fast and nasty and a bit of a character. He was well known for spending his time in the field when not bowling, pretending to walk his imaginary dog on a lead and every now and again throwing a pretend ball and shouting at the top of his voice "Fetch boy, fetch".
"I reckon me bloody dog could get thee out lad", and with that he started his run up, grinning from ear to ear. "Your bloody dog could get me out? I'll show you, mate!" I thought, and with that the ball was released from big Bill's hand.
Now it was obvious that batting at number 10 I was no Tom Graveney but a half volley outside my off stump got exactly what it deserved. My eyes closed and a swing of the bat saw the ball dissect the inner field and crash into the extra-cover advertising boards for 4. My cockiness back to its best saw me wander a few steps down the wicket to confront big Bill. "Perhaps your bloody dog would like to fetch that one", I told him. There was a moment of silence before Big Bill and the rest of his team mates burst into laughter.
I finished my innings on 8 not out with another 4 through the covers off Bill, Gloucestershire bowled out for 282. I walked from the field with Bill and couldn’t help wondering in the words of the Three Degrees, when would I see him again?
Memory added on December 14, 2020
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