Minor days a major appeal of the game

Henry Blofeld recalls the parson, the flashing blade and a brush with cricket's big time as a Norfolk part-timer 31 years ago

Thirty-one years ago, in 1965, Norfolk went to Southampton at the start of May to play Hampshire in the first round of the Gillette Cup, the original limited-over competition which began in 1963. Today they retrace their steps in the first round of this year's NatWest trophy.

In that first encounter I was lucky enough to be chosen to open the batting for a Norfolk side captained by none other than WJ (Bill) Edrich of Compton and Edrich fame. When WJ retired from Middlesex, he returned to the county he had started with before the war and captained us until well into his fifties.

In those far off days, a game against a first-class county was awarded to the top five in the previous year's minor County Championship. Nowadays most minor countries get their chance and their instant demise is an all too familiar occurrence. In 1965, it was new and breathtakingly exciting for the lucky few.

There we were, a group of part-timers, heading for a glimpse of the big- time. Our captain, whose optimism usually defied all - or most - known logic, was convinced that we could win. I am not sure that he did not convince us, too.

We were more than just a motley crew. Terry Allcock, who kept wicket, also played at wing-half for Norwich City when the Third Division South side reached the semi-final of the 1959 FA Cup and lost to Luton in a replay.

David Pilch, who used to bat and bowl the seam with equal distinction, was a direct descendant of Fuller Pilch of Norfolk and Kent in the 1840s. Claude Rutter, our other opening batsmen, was a parson and the most formidable operator in the pulpit.

It would be stretching the truth to say that the County Ground at Southampton was full. The toss was conducted in some style by WJ and Colin Ingleby- Mackenzie, now the president-elect of MCC, while we shivered in our boots at the prospect of Roy Marshall's flashing blade - he toured with the West Indies in 1950 - and Derek Shackleton, whose subtle medium pace offerings had been so successful against the West Indies in 1963, to say nothing of the tearaway pace of Butch White.

Hampshire won the toss and batted and WJ assured us it was the best possible toss to lose. We took up our positions in the field; I found myself at backward short leg to Roy Marshall, and whenever our opening bowlers pitched short, which was not infrequently, the ball hummed over my head like a wasp in mid-season form.

We did our best and none of the Hampshire batsmen were greedy; they all got some and a few rather more than that. Even so, 295 for 7 in 60 overs did not daunt our gallant captain in the least. "We can win this," he assured us. And Ian Mercer and I set forth to do battle with "Shack" and Butch White and Bob Cottam, another who was to have his chance with England.

It was Mercer and not Rutter who came in with me, because the gallant vicar had met with an accident in the field which must be unique in cricket. A tall man in rimless glasses, he was fielding in the covers and came striding in to try and prevent a quick single. At the critical moment he slipped and fell, hitting the ground and somehow managing to dislocate his jaw, which for a while made him a spent force in the pulpit.

When rain stopped play after tea "Manny" Mercer and I had put on 50 in 17 overs and as far WJ was concerned the match was as good as won. As I came off I even got a "well played" from Len Hutton, the man of the match adjudicator. It was heady stuff. Cricket on Sundays was strictly taboo in those days and so we all trooped off to the New Forest and took part in a Sunday benefit match for, I think, Butch White. Having a rest day at 50 for no wicket, even though we were chasing 296, made us all feel about eight feet tall and here we were in the New Forest on first- name terms with chaps who had played Test cricket.

Sad to say, reality soon took over on the Monday. Manny and I returned to the crease with our confidence now a trifle suspect. We took our opening stand, much too slowly, to 87 when Ingleby-Mackenzie played his trump card. He brought in the left-arm spinner Peter Sainsbury.

It is no compliment to Peter to say that we viewed his arrival at the bowling crease with enthusiasm. I was immediately stumped by a yard and a half and in the space of 13 overs Sainsbury took 7 for 30 and we lost by 148 runs. I remember WJ saying that he thought we had been unlucky. In truth, we had bowled far too many bad balls; they had bowled very few.

At the prize-giving, Gordon Ross, the former editor of the Cricket Monthly, who had taken over the adjudicator from Hutton, mentioned my 60. With an addition to his 7 for 30, Sainsbury had made a small matter of 76 and he won the award. But I hope it means as much to minor county cricketers today to take part as it did for us that weekend in Southampton 31 years ago. And I hope, too, that Norfolk win today.