By Adelaide
March 25 2021
It is 1975 and semi finals day in B&H. We hear about a journey where Adelaide nearly missed his coach, that was lost on route and arrived late in the wrong part of ground, There is also a report on a thrilling game and a Middlesex hero amongst various random digressions.
Cast your mind back to 1975, if you are old enough. That was the year when snow stopped play at Buxton, in early June. Within days it was heatwave conditions, something which seemed to go on for weeks afterwards. I had started work the previous autumn, stationed in Thames House, totally unaware that I was sharing the building with the spooks and a bit of lunchtime sunbathing in the gardens along Millbank became part of the routine. Sunblock was for wimps then, so it was probably not very good for me.
A few weeks in and Middlesex were faced with a tricky Benson & Hedges semi final at Edgbaston. I'd heard announcements at John Player matches about Seaxe Club coaches, so I booked up. (Sponsorship of sport by tobacco companies was so rife that someone suggested there should be a Cannabis Cup but nobody had the energy to organise that.)
Now organising time is not my strong point and as I finished preparing my sandwiches it dawned on me that I really had not allowed enough time to get to the pick up point at Hendon by tube and bus. So it was up to Southgate for a taxi - but there was nothing on the rank. In the end I flagged down a taxi driver who was on his way to work in central London and said he wasn't really allowed to pick up fares in the suburbs - but in the end he did.
Perhaps I should have saved the taxi fare, as the coach was late (aren't they always - though of course I was worrying that it had been early). Ah, here it is ... relax.
I suspect that the coach driver did not know Bimingham very well, because he approached it via the M6 and the Aston Expressway, past the Villa ground of happy semi-final memories (Leicester and Watford – sorry, Jonathan). The coach ended up going over some rickety flyover which looked intended for cars only and I swear the coach touched the sides.
Net result - we arrived late. We all rushed in to the ground and I realised I was in a members' area I should not really have been in. Never mind, sit back and enjoy Middlesex struggling at 50-3 or something against a very tight attack. Enter Larry Gomes. Larry's wedding featured in the local newspaper under the headline "Enfield cricketer weds". The memorable last line of the report read "The groom also plays for Middlesex and the West Indies".
But I digress (I'm good at that). Enter Larry Gomes. Still a struggle at first, then Larry played two delicious late cuts off Eddie Hemmings and the shackles were off, liberating Clive Radley as well. It just got better and better after that until Larry was out for 70 odd. Situation made for Roland Butcher – no, gone for a duck. Useful runs from JT, Clive caught on the boundary in (I think) the last over. By this time I was out in the sun at the other end of the ground. A nearby Warwickshire supporter celebrated this as if it had won the match, which kind of gave a clue that there was a football style element not too far away from me. Final tally – 247 for 8. A lot better than it might have been but probably not enough.
Warwickshire’a attack, led by David Brown and Eddie Hemmings (a spinner by now), was fairly strong and had the added bonus of including the other Steve Perryman, not exactly a common name. Their real strength, though, was in their all-star batting. Look at the top six – Jameson. Amiss, Kallicharran, Kanhai, Whitehouse and Deryck Murray. OK, it fell away after that but they wouldn’t need them, would they?
By this time I had a pint in my hand and it was very, very hot, so a lot of the detail of the Warwickshire innings escapes me. Suffice to say that Jameson and Amiss were untroubled and scoring freely, putting together a century stand at above the required run rate. Martin Vernon was getting hit around the place (was Fred Titmus injured?) and things looked bleak.
Enter Larry Gomes. Larry’s wedding featured – oh, hang on, done that. They could not get him (or Phillipe) away consistently. In the end Gomes snagged Amiss. More importantly, we managed to run John Jameson out (not sure now whether this was before or after Amiss’s dismissal). For younger readers, Jameson was, er, built for comfort and capable of taking an attack to pieces and looked likely to win the match on his own. He would have loved T20 (apart from the fielding).
So, back in with a chance and we got it to 168/4, Vernon coming back well to get Kanhai (he of the falling over hook shot) and Whitehouse (not of the magazine). Kallicharran and Murray then took it to the brink. The crowd around me were very happy, assisted by Marstons or whatever. Less than 20 needed, six wickets left, no problem.
Except there was. Somehow Price and Selvey get rid of the main men and another. Still, six needed off the last over, three wickets left, John Price to bowl it but no problem, if you ignored the incredible tension.
Price’s last over was just brilliant. Just short of a good length, perfect for nervous tail enders newly arrived at the crease. From memory, the first five balls were dot balls. One of them took a wicket and another provoked a run out of a desperate batsman. Last ball, six to win (not that Warwickshire have ever done that to us in, say, a final) – no, their Perryman could only chop it out to the cover point boundary for two and the game was won and the crowd disbelieving (including me!)
Clive Radley’s ton was yet another of his fine contributions. It would usually have won man-of-the-match but Gomes got it, quite rightly, because he had turned the course of both innings.
So, a bit of a tongue-tied rubbing shoulders with the players in the bar before the coach left. The heat and the beer had given me a stonking headache but did I care?
The final is best forgotten. One of those one day matches where the scoring rate was less than three per over. Phil Edmonds opening, hooking his first ball for six, Mike Smith’s battle to provide a quarter-way decent score, Norman McVicker’s bowling (and his bright red handkerchief). I know winning is supposed to be everything but it could not erase the memory of coming back from the dead at Edgbaston.
Quote:BarmierKev
I'm grateful to Adelaide for sharing this.
I recall following these games via radio and Evening Standard stop press. I would wait outside the local newsagent for the latest to arrive. Those were the days
Larry Gomes was one of my heroes and loved his zigzag run ups to bowl. Simliar to mine for other reasons.