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important were the Notts opening pair,
Walter Keeton
and - no there’s something
amiss, not the inimitable Charlie Harris,
but with his shirt collar up, Reg Simpson.
Keeton and Harris had opened for the
County for 15 years. Some know-all behind
father said the England selectors wanted
Simpson to open, though only a fortnight
before he had hit his maiden Test century
at OldTrafford batting in the middle order.
I’d listened to the broadcast on the wireless
- Simpson had gone from 50 to 100 in less
than half an hour.
Play commenced. The sun blazed down on
the crowds sitting on rows of forms along
the Fox Road boundary and behind them
the concrete stand hard up against the brick
wall. On an ordinary county day, members
parked on the grass in front of those stands
and watched the cricket from the car.
Simpson batted an hour for 29 and looked
happy until sending one of Cecil Burke’s
leg-breaks into John Reid’s hands at extra
cover. The young left-hander Cyril Poole,
a miner from Forest Town, hit three fours,
but also perished to Burke. The moment I
was waiting for - the arrival of Joe Hardstaff.
Would he score a century? The previous
summer I was broken-hearted when he was
out for 97 (and in his own benefit match,
dear, oh dear).
Lunch was at 2 o’clock, Notts hadn’t
reached three figures, but the fielding was
quite outstanding, even if, apart from
Burke, the bowling was moderate. Father
wandered off to the sandwich bar. I didn’t
move. Burke took his third wicket about an
hour after lunch, Walter Keeton caught at
slip by Geoff Rabone. Enter Charlie Harris
at last. It was time that Notts took the
bowling apart, but not Harris. He played
his much-exaggerated forward defensive
stroke to ball after ball. The crowd began
cat-calling to no avail. At a whim two sweet
cover drives sent the ball to the boundary
- one was chased by George Cresswell to
the ropes near us. Going full pelt he dived
straight over the band of schoolboys, landing
unharmed on the turf beyond. At the other
end Hardstaff batted sedately, an orthodox
stroke to each delivery. The sort of cricket
that produced the asinine press comment,
‘Hardstaff would rather lose his wicket than
play an ugly shot’.
The cover fielding was quite remarkable,
particularly Walter Hadlee and Frank
Smith, this ability rather puts pay to the
often-repeated comment that fielding
today is massively better than 60 years ago.
What today’s spectators would be more
conscious of was the fact that Hardstaff
and Harris very rarely hit the ball in the
air.The scorebook shows not a single six in
the eventual Notts total of 323-4 declared.
Anyway to close the day, Hardstaff ended
with 107 not out, so I was happy and Harris
79 not out. The 25,000 spectators packed
their bits and bobs and most seemed to
walk off up Arkwright Street. No drunks,
no problems and seemingly few policemen.
No cricket on Sunday - the Duke of
Portland invited the New Zealanders to
spend the day with him at Welbeck Abbey.
Father, mother, sister and I climbed in the
car, bags in the boot, off to Chudleigh for
our fortnight’s holiday - the farmer’s sons
(we stayed on a working farm and ‘helped’
with the harvest) had their own cricket
pitch in one of the meadows.
By the way, the Notts v New Zealand
match was drawn. John Reid, the youngest
of the tourists, hit 155, including the only
six in the match - off
Peter Harvey
, which
crashed into the scorebox next to the
Ladies Pavilion. The past is definitely a
foreign country!