Only the very best receive such levels of abuse, and the standing ovation he received at the end of the series, and the chants of ‘We wish you were English’, said it all. Everyone loves a fallible hero.
The Others
Rather like a cricket team, our group features many different qualities, skills and interests but we all combine well as a unit. Charles Colvile brings us something totally different as a presenter because as a trained journalist he has that instinct for a story. When Charlie sniffs something he gets straight into it, and I think that is a terrific quality. We are all well connected, given our backgrounds in the sport, but Charlie is someone I respect greatly because of his news sense. I enjoy being around journalists – whenever I get a break during the day’s play I will pop into the press box for half an hour to have a chinwag – and there are some brilliant ones in our sport.
Paul Allott, aka Walt, is our all-rounder, our utility player, because he can slip seamlessly into any of the given roles. He is equally at home as a presenter, reporting at the toss, commentating, and hosting the after-match presentation – whatever he turns his hand to he does with assurance. He is also a tremendous eater, not quite in the Jack Simmons category, but when hungry, boy, can he put away some grub. Walt is a big unit, which means he can hack it in Botham’s company without spending the rest of the night in casualty, and a talented sportsman. Undoubtedly he is the best golfer among us – has been playing off very low single figures for years – and dedicates himself to fitness sprees throughout the year. In one stretch he sank four rowing machines.
Michael Holding is the nicest guy you could ever wish to meet; such a polite and gentle man. As a broadcaster he has a wonderful voice, and as a bloke I am not sure he has an enemy in the world. So it’s hard to believe what a nasty bugger he could be with a cricket ball in his hand. He used to run in all day, and send it down in excess of 90 miles an hour. But his big passion is for horse racing, as long as there are no jumps involved. A flat fanatic is Mikey. He is also possibly Jamaica’s greatest debater. Once he gets going off air, at the back of the commentary box, he will not let go. He reminds me so much of the Felix Dexter character in Bellamy’s People. His capacity for debate is unbelievable, and once he is on one he does not budge from his stance. He is very trenchant in his views.
Going back to his playing days, you didn’t need to tell anyone how fast he was because his reputation went before him. Everyone who faced him verified that he was like lightning, and he caused his own team-mates some problems when he played with us for seven matches at Lancashire. He took 40-odd wickets but could comfortably have had more. We had two good slip catchers in Andrew Kennedy and Jack Simmons. Well, they were good slip catchers until Michael’s arrival, at least. Everything kept hitting them in the chest! At one stage Simmo sent for the 12th man, John Abrahams, moments after shelling one. Mikey was not flustered, because he knew the ball was going like an express train. But Jack, in his high-pitched Great Harwood voice, implored John: ‘Fetch me my reading glasses.’ He then stood there with them balancing on his hooter in a bid to clock this thing flying off the edge at great speeds.
During my umpiring days, Mikey was playing in a match for Derbyshire against Northamptonshire at Derby. Robin Boyd-Moss was batting against the new ball and got himself into a royal tangle against a throat ball on a quickish pitch. He got his hands up to defend himself and the ball struck his glove with such velocity that his thumb surround was knocked clean off and flew towards the slip cordon; Boyd-Moss’s thumb, meanwhile, had gone in about five different directions. That tells you how ferociously quick he was.
Bob Willis has had his detractors but he is passionate about the game, and about English cricket, and is someone who doesn’t go round the houses to get to the town. I must admit I’ve missed Bob since he slipped off the regular international commentary team, because he has good, strong opinions and is magnificent to work alongside. He is very intelligent and reads the game so well, you can bounce your ideas off him. Not that you can often beat him to the punch, because he calls it exactly as he sees it. To me there is nowt whatsoever wrong with that style. His following as a studio pundit for exactly that reason is phenomenal. Emails and texts are pinging around Sky’s inboxes to a chorus of ‘Go on Bob, get stuck into them.’ The public like to see people display their passion, and he is not shy on that front. All the lads who are playing for England now make a habit of saying ‘that bloody Willis’, but what I would say to them is they’ve got to meet him, go and have a beer with him and chat. Because you can’t fail to like Bob Willis – he’s a great bloke, who is just doing his job.
His image may not suggest it, but he is a gentle, unassuming chap off air. He can be the happiest soul going but, whatever you do, do not get him singing. Because once he starts, you cannot shut him up. He does a very passable Bob Dylan impersonation and can trawl through his entire back catalogue, word perfect. Our Bob is a great humorist, a great wit and great fun. Whenever we have a day off, he will saunter up and ask: ‘Right, what we doing then? Shall we go off for a spot of lunch? Yes, let’s have a spot of lunch.’ Invariably that means lunch, dinner and supper merging into one without you noticing. He can be great company.
Another bloke who always fancied himself as a bit of a pop performer, Mark Butcher, has shown himself to be very proficient with a microphone since retiring from the game. He stepped in for me when I was struck down by dengue fever on the first day of the Test series in Bangladesh. Butch was out working for BBC radio but, as a Sky regular back home, showed himself to be a great team man by stepping in when the need arose. Popular opinion was that he did a terrific job, but Nimbus clearly weren’t impressed as they refused to pay him. He only discovered they were not shelling out after England’s win in Chittagong had been completed. Athers texted me to suggest I should give him a ‘little consideration’ for standing in. Naturally, I agreed but thought that a heart-felt round of applause should suffice as my illness would have provided him with a priceless experience. You can’t put a figure on that.
Geoffrey Boycott – Him from the Other Side
Contrary to popular belief, me and Geoffrey get along together OK. Yes, we have had some run-ins over the years, but we get on just fine. You don’t spend decades in the game without having some seriously heated differences, stand-up rows, call ’em what you want. We have had many a spat – being two of a kind, I guess – then shaken hands and agreed to let it pass. He is, and always has been, a forthright so-and-so, and that is why he polarises opinion. People either love him or hate him: there is no middle ground. He is his own man, as everyone can tell, and quite individual in what he does, stirring up debate and clinging to one or two hobbyhorses. One thing that I have never told him is that my missus, who is cricket daft, is one of those on the love side. She thinks he is absolutely brilliant on radio, listens avidly when he is on air, and I’ve lost count of the number of times when she has recounted a period of commentary when he is ‘on one’ alongside Aggers. I haven’t plucked up the courage to ask: ‘Do you think he’s better than me?’ I don’t think I could bear the answer. He’s told me enough times himself over the years.
Diana’s fondness for Boycs is not the first affection she has felt for an England opener, of course. Discounting my own international career, my wife also recently revealed an unrequited romantic involvement with another of our surname more than thirty years earlier. To my astonishment, nay amusement, it was Andy Lloyd, known affectionately to me and many others around the English cricket circuit as Towser. Now Towser, it transpires, penned sonnets during the late 1970s expressing his affection for my good lady. However, despite them being retained as evidence by the said Mrs Lloyd, Towser denied being their composer when I quizzed him thoroughly on the subject, but freely admitted to calling her with advice to back Sea Pigeon in the 1979 Ebor.
Geoffrey and I don’t spend a great deal of time together, because he is usually on air when I am, but I have often been on the wrong side of his tongue. Now Fiery has always enjoyed a gag at others’ expense, and to his credit he is good at coming up with a punchline to emphasise his magnificence in comparison to your own measly existence. During our playing days, I remember chatting
