At what point does a touch of ambition get lit? I remember my moment very well. On June 2nd, 1978, my father called me in from playing cricket in the back garden with my younger brother. I was ten years old; he was seven. The reason for the summons from my dad was David Gower’s first ball in Test cricket, which was effortlessly pulled to the boundary for four. “Watch how still he keeps his head,” were the only accompanying words from my dad, and sure enough, Gower kept his head still, his eyes on the ball and his talent and timing did the rest. It is a memory that has always stayed with me. I followed his performances avidly after that.
Years later, oddly, David came to present me with my first Test cap. This was in 1989, eleven years after that first glimpse. He was an elder statesman by then, but still played a cool and effortless game. It was a thrill to get a first England cap from a boyhood hero and we shared one or two decent stands after that. Memorably, one in Sydney where I gave him a head start of about 70 runs and he nearly beat me to a hundred. He played sublimely that day, scoring a hundred of high class and skill.
It is true, I think, that the players you witness around those early teenage years, when you are young enough to be impressionable, but old enough to be aware, remain in the memory more vividly than at any other time. Accordingly, we probably attach greater value, sentimental and other, to them. Of the four best players I have watched play for England, Gower remains one, Graham Gooch, another. Somehow, they seem giants to me, even now, walking taller in my memory than others I watch today. In that way, memories are vivid, but probably play tricks, too.
Memory added on March 6, 2013
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