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Bill Wyman
Cricket became my love from the day at twelve, during a school house team match, our team were bowled out for 11. I proudly carried my bat for 2 not out. Unfortunately, it impressed others less than it impressed me, and needless to say I was never chosen to play for the school team.
As a young teen I spent a few summers playing cricket in the local parks with school friends and took on the job of scoring for the Lloyds Bank cricket teams in Beckenham. I would also go occasionally to Lords of to the Oval to watch the Test Matches. At Lords in 1952, I saw Godfrey Evans score 98 before lunch against India – completing his century when play resumed. Next6 day I saw Mankad hit 184 in reply.
I also followed cricket on my Grandmother’s new TV set, with its 6-inch TV screen. God knows how we saw the ball. Compton was my hero – Brylcreem was not! My fave Australians were Neil Harvey and Keith Miller, and I was fortunate a few years ago to have an entertaining lunch with Keith in London, where he relived wonderful cricketing moments with me.
In the mid 1950s, National Service reared its ugly head and I joined the RAF and was posted to Northern Germany. Cricket was not a game you played on a cold wind-swept military base.
My next attempts at cricket came unexpectedly from being a Father. I was invited (enticed) to play for 2 years for the Fathers v Sons at Orwell Park School, Ipswich, Suffolk. I was pleased to find that I could still bowl a reasonable amateur leg-break and googlie, and still score a few runs – even with a bat that was shaved down to 2 inches wide – presumably to balance the talents of the teams. It didn’t! We lost!
In 1986 I was approached by Eric Clapton (the music business’ answer to Wally Hammond) to join his charity team. I accepted with some reservations, but no regrets, and from that day on I played about a dozen or so games each season for ten years – firstly with Eric, and then with David English and his Bunburys.
Suddenly, I found myself batting with the likes of Robin Smith, Allan Lamb, Ian Botham, Brian Lara, Alex Stewart, David Gower, Graeme Hick and everyone I’d previously admired from afar.
Amongst the magic moments I can recall playing for the Bunburys are the regular visits to Alconbury for the games against Norma Major’s team. I have managed to turn out in this fixture four times now – in 1991, 1993, 1994 and 1996. A particular memory goes back to the 1994 game, when all the press articles captured the photograph of me coaching Norma Major in the art of batting.
Other particular memories include catching ex-England captain Brian Close one-handed in the gully, with my cigarette in the other hand and being jumped on by wicket-keeper Ian Wright, as if I’d just scored for England. Later in the same innings, I caught Euro MP Robert Sturdy two-handed over my head – this time the cigarette was in my mouth.
The annual fixture at Alconbury is always a smashing occasion, and The Bunburys are able to swap ten years worth of magic memories whenever it is recalled.