Having safely negotiated St. Swithin's Day, I turn my attention to the hot summers of yesteryear. Rather like the great years for vintage port, hot British summers don't come around too often so it seems a good opportunity to take a look at some of them.
The first stand out summer of the twentieth century didn't venture out until 1933! This at least served to lift some of the gloom which then accompanied our previous worst financial depression. The next hot summer had to wait until the Second World War was over but the wait was worth it with two in quick succession. The summers of 1947 and 1949 both delivered sunshine aplenty - richly deserved after the hard war years. 1955 and 1959 came up trumps in the next decade with 1959 being a real scorcher. For all that we read about the swinging sixties, the decade failed to deliver a summer of note. The next one would not happen until 1976 - but what a summer. For my generation, this remains the benchmark against which all summers are measured. Although only seven years old myself, I still have vivid memories of the summer and can't honestly remember being inside except to go to bed. So far, 2013 is shaping up nicely to join the ranks of the aforementioned. Long may it reign.
Perhaps its no coincidence that many of these summers have served up cricket of a rare vintage. After the war and the doom and gloom, 1947 did much to lift the spirits and two Middlesex and England batsmen more than played their part. Between them, Dennis Compton and Bill Edrich helped themselves to a staggering 30 centuries and left a trail of broken hearted bowlers in their wake. That summer for England and Middlesex, they realised 7355 runs between them and bowlers and fielders alike must have breathed a sigh of relief when the summer eventually drew to a close. Barring miracles, we may all rest assured that their feat can rest comfortably in the record books.
If 1947 was the turn of Dennis Compton and Bill Edrich to make up for their lost war years, 1949 was the year of Len Hutton. The Yorkshire captain who would eventually become the first professional captain of England amassed 12 hundreds in compiling an impressive 3429 runs.
Although a cracking summer, 1955 favoured the bowlers - the slow bowlers. Surrey dominated the county championship throughout the 1950s and much of that success was down to the slow left arm of Tony Lock in harness with the peerless off spin of Jim Laker. That summer they took 349 wickets for Surrey and England at an average of less than 15 runs each. Would that they were available now!
1959 saw the championship at last wrestled out of the grip of the dominant Surrey. Yorkshire once more reclaimed the title. This time the championship was won not by a fine individual performance but by a team which would come to dominate 1960s cricket with a mixture of old pros and cocky upstarts where every match was winnable and a rare loss subject to weeks of analysis and inquest. With Brian Close, Raymond Illingworth and Fred Trueman they had enough bowling options to deal with any batsmen. All three also scored first class centuries to boot.
In 1976, England entertained one of the most fearsome sides ever to grace a cricket field. The West Indians came, the sun blazed and England batsmen appeared more like the pins in a bowling alley. I would say that Michael Holding that summer was about as close to bowling perfection as I have ever seen. How the batsmen saw the ball I will never know. Strange then that the selectors saw to restore some pride by injecting some experience in to the England batting line up. Some experience! At 45 years of age, Brian Close was recalled to open the innings. No helmet. No fear. No bloody sense some would say but his batting in the fading light at Old Trafford that year remains the bravest sporting display I have ever seen. Close had a reputation as a tough nut. 1976 saw him ascend beyond his previous legendary status. It is said his body was like a chess board when he was eventually dismissed for 45 of the most gutsy runs ever scored. His mentality was simple. If you want to get me out, you'll have to knock me out. His opening partner was John Edrich (nephew of Bill) who was a mere nipper at 39 years of age. They certainly showed the young players a thing or two about batting. The West Indies deservedly won the series but Close and Edrich did a lot to regain some English pride and pave the way for happier times the following summer. Close was unique. He really didn't know when he was beat and was the ultimate competitor. He played his final first class match in 1986 at the tender age of 55. He has never been recognised. No OBE, Knighthood or anything and yet he was always there when his country came calling because others weren't up to the job. He was never an establishment man and perhaps that's why I will always have a soft spot for Brian. His priority was the team and winning. Popularity was for others. During his second career at Somerset, he was instrumental in bringing Botham and Richards through the ranks. He also played football for Leeds and England and played golf off scratch left or right handed. Sportsmen like Brian are rarer than hen's teeth. They seem to give honours out like sweets now and it somehow seems wrong that this sporting great has been ignored for so long. That said, maybe he has been offered one and just turned it down - that would be so like him.
This summer, we have the Ashes and while the current Australian crop may not be in the same league as Holding and company, they do seem to have a bit of attitude. I still feel that talk of an England whitewash is a bit premature if not a little naive. An Aussie team never comes over to make up the numbers and England will have to move up several gears if they are to enter the comfort zone - if they have several more gears that is. I bet Close would love to still be playing and doing his bit. After all he's only 82!
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