Cardus on McCabe's 232
Uday Rajan
Bradman, in his TV interview, said that McCabe's 232 at Trent
Bridge in 1938 was the best innings he had ever seen. The match report
written by Neville Cardus on that day's play, published in the
Manchester Guardian, follows. McCabe was 19* at the close of the 2nd
day. The bulk of his 232 was scored on the 3rd day of the Test.
England scored 658/8 decl; Aus were 138/3 at the start of the day.
They were all out for 411. Following on, they reached 102/1 at close
of the 3rd day.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nottingham, Monday, June 13th
Today McCabe honoured the first Test with a great and noble
innings. At one time Australia was only 263 for 7, with no survivors
to help McCabe except McCormick, O'Reilly, and Fleetwood-Smith. McCabe
changed the gravest situation with the ease of a man using a master
key; in an hour he smashed the bowling and decimated a field which for
long had been a close, keen net. He pulled his side out of a terrible
hole and gave Australia a chance to save herself. Today he scored 213
out of 273 in three and a quarter hours while 7 wickets fell. The dear
valiance of his play won our hearts. And, believe it or not, when
Brown and Fingleton began an uphill job of work a large section of the
crowd actually barracked because Brown and Fingleton played safely and
declined to betray McCabe's skill and courage, which they would have
done had they attempted indiscreet strokes. Never before have I heard
barracking of more stupidity than this. McCabe gave the crowd their
money's worth and snatched the match temporarily out of England's
almost certain grasp. Fingleton and Brown would have been traitors to
McCabe had they batted in any but a sound defensive manner; runs now
were a secondary condition. Brown and Fingleton possibly carried
caution to excess, but the ironical part is that during the period in
which they were jeered at they scored only some 15 runs fewer in two
and a quarter hours than England scored in two and a quarter hours
after lunch on the first day of the match when Barnett had landed the
lunch score at the vantage point of 169 for no wicket. Fingleton no
doubt incensed the crowd by sitting down on the grass, perhaps an
unwise gesture. But an appeal against the light was not probably
justifiable. But let me get away from paltriness and tell the tale of
McCabe's masterpiece. And I will try to describe it in the rhythm of
its occurrence, and I hope that my narrative will give the faintest
idea of the grand crescendo which crowned all.
Warm sunshine blessed the scene at last this morning, and we now
had reason to thank Heaven that Bradman got out in Saturday's
darkness; this was his own weather and the wicket still contained runs
for the picking, even though marks made by Australia's heavy artillery
had slightly roughened the surface. McCabe at once drove Farnes
effortlessly through the covers for four; then Farnes bowled Ward. The
day began now with Hassett in, small and immaculate as Quaife; he
almost played on to Farnes forthwith; the ball gyrated from his bat
like a kitten seeking its own tail. Trent Bridge looked handsome;
bunting and coloured flags suggested royalty or a fairground with
coconut shies at Australia's batsmen two a penny. Wright bowled with
Farnes straightaway, and Hassett tried to drive a quick leg-break on
the half-volley; spin caused him to slice the stroke, and Hammond held
the inevitable catch at slip. Wright dropped the ball in the rough
stuff high enough up the wicket; it would have been impossible to
cause as much spin on this on Friday on any part of the pitch.
Australia 151 for 5, and, I imagine, much distress in the Anthenaeum
Club, Melbourne, in the lordly mansions of Toorak, in Castlereagh
Street, Sydney, in Wagga Wagga, Bondi, Southport, which is near
Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth, and Kalgoorlie; in all these places the
time would be evening at 9 o'clock and the people would be listening
incredulously to the wireless, men and women and boys and girls, even
the babies allowed to stay up late for the occasion. And the patient
ships moving without seeming to move through the blue water of the
Pacific on the long way from Colombo to Fremantle would be listening
too; cricket girdles the earth nowadays; but I must cease or I shall
sound like a cricket dinner at Lord's with Sir Pelham in full song.
McCabe was a great player all the time; he has been out of form,
but now, in a severe hour, he held himself calmly, masterfully. But he
inspected the pitch once or twice and stabbed late at a ball from
Farnes which kept low. The situation became one in which a logical
policy of batsmanship was difficult to shape; noon on the third day is
too early for defence without runs, yet Australia's position chastened
a free swinging stroke. Badcock endured for a while an unnatural life;
he reached forward to play back. The English bowling seemed merely
steady; I thought to myself now, `Heaven protect this attack the day
Bradman and the others get off to a flying start.' Things continued to
go awry with Australia; Badcock tried to cut a potential half-volley,
and like Fingleton he played on.
The innings was rent in twain now; McCabe was left standing on a
solitary rock of sound technique; between him and the rearguard yawned
a chasm. He proceeded to play the cricket of heroic loneliness; he hit
Farnes for six to square leg with the serenest sweeping movement. He
cut late with the touch of intimate art. Impending disaster did not
ruffle him; even a snick through the slips off Farnes was tranquil and
graceful. Farnes bowled keenly, accurately, ominously, and fast;
Wright at the other end turned his leg-break now and again and avoided
too much short stuff. Sinfield's off-breaks had an amiable aspect, but
he more than once troubled even McCabe; clearly the turf was now not
entirely insensitive to spin. In one other point, too, the English
attack at the moment excelled Australia's, a point which had nothing
to do with winning the toss; the length was never, or seldom, loose.
Barnett defended while McCabe took charge; it is the sure sign of a
great batsman that he can at a challenge take charge; what does the
term master mean if it does not mean mastery? With his team cornered
McCabe played the innings of the match and to make him this compliment
is not to forget our Barnett's courage and skill on Friday. But McCabe
was so sure an artist, so ripe and, with all his aggression, so
stylish and courteous. Australia's Barnett ably put the straight
obstructive bat to the ball until after lunch he decided to drive
Farnes, in spite of the new ball; ambition was his undoing, but he
served Australia well in a last-minute stand of 67.
Now came the death and glory; brilliance wearing the dress of
culture. McCabe demolished the English attack with aristrocratic
politeness, good taste, and reserve. Claude Duval never took
possession of a stage coach with more charm of manner than this; his
boundaries were jewels and trinkets which he accepted as though
dangling them in his hands. In half and hour after lunch he scored 50,
unhurried but trenchant. He cut and glanced and drove, upright and
lissom; his perfection of touch moved the aesthetic sense; this was
the cricket of felicity, power and no covetousness, strength and no
brutality, opportunism and no meanness, assault and no battery,
dazzling strokes and no rhetoric; lovely, brave batsmanship giving joy
to the connoisseur, and all done in a losing hour. One of the greatest
innings ever seen anywhere in any period in cricket's history. Moving
cricket which swelled the heart. Not once but many times McCabe has
come to Australia's aid in a crucial moment and has played gloriously
where others have lost heart; he is in the line of Trumper, and no
other batsman today but McCabe has inherited Trumper's sword and
cloak.
When McCormick was bowled McCabe was 160; he now scored 50 in a
little more than a quarter of an hour. He blinded us with four fours
in an over from Wright; his innings became incandescent; he reached
his two hundred and received worthy acclamation. He passed Paynter's
score with a gesture of magnanimity. The English bowling suffered
demoralization; length and accuracy vanished. A majestic on-drive sent
Australia's total beyond 400. With consummate judgment he kept the
bowling; Fleetwood-Smith was almost as much a spectator as I was. This
gorgeous sirocco had a calm pivotal spot; McCabe's mind controlled the
whirlwind; his shooting stars flashed safely according to an ordered
law of gravitation. He scored 72 out of 77 for the last wicket in half
an hour; after lunch he scored 127 in 80 minutes. In all, he scored
232 out of 300 runs in 230 minutes, and hit a six and 34 fours.
Brown and Fingelton made, or declined to make, more than 89 in two
and a quarter hours; a wonderful left-handed catch by Hammond then
accounted for Fingleton amid universal rejoicing. At the evening's
misty fall Bradman was as dour as Brown himself; tomorrow he will move
heaven and earth to express his gratitude for McCabe's lifeline; and
England will move heaven and earth to overwhelm him and all. Another
famous day.
Uday Rajan
Bradman, 1930 (from "Good Days")
The power of genius in cricket is not to be measured by the
scoreboard, and not even by the clock. A Trumper, a Spooner, will
reveal art and energy in one or two personal strokes or by some
all-pervading yet indefinable poise and flavour. At Leeds Bradman
announced his right to mastership in a few swift moments. He made 72
runs during his first hour at the wicket, giving to us every bit of
cricket except the leg glance. But long before he had got near to the
end of his innings he was repeating himself; it was as though the
sheer finish of technique was a prison for his spirit. He could not
make a hazardous flight; he reminded me of the trapeze performer who
one night decided to commit suicide by flinging himself headlong to
the stage, but could not achieve the error because his skill had
become infallible, a routined and mechanical habit not at the beck and
call of anything so volatile as human will or impulse. When Bradman
passed 200 at Leeds I felt that my interest in his play might break
out anew at the sight of one miscalculated stroke. But none was to be
seen. His cricket went along its manifold ways with a security which
denied its own brilliance. Every fine point of batsmanship was to be
admired, strokes powerful and swift and accurate and handmsome;
variety of craft controlled by singleness of mind and purpose. Bradman
was as determined to take no risks as he was to hit boundaries from
every ball the least loose --- his technique is so extensive and
practised that he can get runs at the rate of 50 an hour without once
needing to venture romantically into the realms of the speculative or
the empirical. The bowler who had to tackle Victor Trumper was able to
keep his spirit more or less hopeful by some philosohy such as this:
`Victor is moving at top speed. Well, I'm bound sooner or later to
send along a really good ball. Victor will flash at it in his ecstasy
--- and I'll have him.' The bowler toiling at Bradman cannot support
himself by a like optimism. For hours he will see his ordinary balls
hit for four along the grass; then his good one will wheel from his
arm, by the law of averages which causes every bowler to achieve one
moment of excellence in every hour. But is Bradman ever likely to be
so blinded by the radiance of his own visions that he will throw back
his head at the good ball, confuse it with the others, and lose his
wicket through a royal expense of spirit? Not he; he sees the
dangerous ball with eyes as suspicious as those of a Makepeace. Down
over his bat goes his head; the blade becomes a protective shield ---
and probably two pads will lend a strong second line of defence. It is
not a paradox to imagine some bowler saying to Bradman, with strict
justice, after Bradman has punished 5 fours in one over and calmly
stopped the sixth ball:`For the Lord's sake, Don, do give a fellow a
chance and have a hit at her!'
The genius of this remarkable boy consists in the complete summary
he gives us of the technique of batsmanship. In every art or vocation
there appears from time to time an incredible exponent who in himself
sums up all the skill and experience that have gone before him. It is
not true that Bradman has inaugurated a new era in batsmanship; he is
substantially orthodox in technique. Nearly all his strokes at Leeds
could well have been used as illustrations to C.B. Fry's thoroughly
scientific and pragmatic book on batsmanship. But Bradman shows us
excellences which in th epast we have had to seek in different
players; nobody else has achieved Bradman's synthesis. It is, of
course, a synthesis which owes much to the fact that Bradman stays at
the wicket longer than most of the brilliant stroke-players of old
ever dreamed of staying. Perhaps he is marked off from the greatness
of his predecessors not so much by technique as by temperament. It is
hard to believe in the possibility of a more masterful stroke-player
than Trumper was, or Hobbs in his heyday. But when Trumper and Hobbs
were great batsmen it was customary for cricketers to try and get out
when their scores went beyond, say, 150. How many times has Hobbs
thrown his wicket away after reaching his century? Bradman brings to
an extensive technique the modern outlook on cricket, a 100 runs is
nothing to him; he conceives of his innings in terms which go far
beyond Trumper's or Macartney's most avaricious dreams. He has
demonstrated that a batsman can hit 42 boundaries in a day without
once giving the outfielders hope of a catch; he has kindled grand
bonfires of batsmanship for us. But never once has he burned his own
fingers while lighting them.
When I think of an innings by Macartney, I do not think entirely
of cricket. My impressions of Macartney's batting are mixed up with
impressions of Figaro, Rossini's Figaro, a gay trafficker with
fortune, but a man of the world; hard as iron though nimble of wit; an
opportunist wearing a romantic feather in his cap. And when I think of
an innings by Trumper I see in imagination the unfurling of a banner.
Not by Bradman is the fancy made to roam; he is, for me, a batsman
living, moving, and having his being wholly in cricket. His
batsmanship delights one's knowledge of the game; his every stroke is
a dazzling and precious stone in the game's crown. But I do not find
his cricket making me think of other and less tangible things; the
stuff of his batsmanship is skill, not sensibility. In all the affairs
of the human imagination there must be an enigma somewher, some
magical touch that nobody can understand and explain. You could never
account for Macartney, Ranjitsinhji, Spooner, Trumper, in terms of
even a marvellous technique. Bradman, as I see and react to him, is
technique in excelsis. I could write a text-book on him with
comprehensive and thoroughly enlightening diagrams. Could anybody have
written a text-book saying anything that mattered about the batting of
Johnny Tyldesley?
The real astonishing fact about Bradman is that a boy should play
as he does --- with the sophistication of an old hand and brain. Who
has ever before heard of a young man, gifted with quick feet and eyes,
with mercurial spirits and all the rapid and powerful strokes of
cricket --- who has ever heard of a young man so gifted and yet one who
never indulged in an extravagant hit high into the air? Until a year
or two ago, Bradman had seen little or no first-class cricket. Yet
here he is today, bringing to youth's natural relish for lusty play
with a cricket bat a technical polish and discretion worthy of a Tom
Hayward. A mis-hit by Bradman --- when he is dashing along at 50 runs
an hour --- surprises us even as a mis-hit by Hayward when he was in
his most academic vein. How came this Bradman to expel from him all
the greenness and impetuosity of youth while retaining the strength
and alacrity of youth? How did he come to acquire, without experience,
all the ripeness of the orthodox --- the range and adaptability of
other men's accumulated years of practice in the best schools of
batsmanship? The cricket of Trumper at the age of 21 could not be
accounted for, but we were content to accept it in terms of
spontaneous genius. Besides, there was always the rapture and
insecurity of the young man in Trumper. But while we can account for
Bradman's batting by reason of its science and orthodoxy, we are
unable to quite accept it --- it is too old for Bradman's years and
slight experience. The genius who thrills us is always unique but
seldom abnormal. If Bradman develops his skill still further --- and
at his age he ought to have whole worlds to conquer still --- he will
in the end find himself considered not so much a master batsman as a
phenomenon of cricket.
As I say, the remarkable fact about Bradman's batsmanship is its
steady observance of the unities. At Leeds he was credited with the
invention of a new kind of hook. But there was no scope at Leeds for
any sort of hook, ancient or modern. The ball never rose stump high on
the first day; how can any batsman hook a ball that does not rise at a
sharp angle from the ground? I have never yet seen Bradman perform the
hook stroke, but I have seen him pull often enough. The pull, indeed,
is one of his most efficient hits; it is timed to perfection, and the
sound of it is as sweet as a nut. (This essay, the reader will bear in
mind, was written of the Bradman who first astonished us in 1930.)
3~ At Leeds more than half of his 46 fours were drives in front of
the wicket. His drive and cut, indeed, were much more frequently to be
seen that his pull and leg hit. The secret of his stroke-power lies in
his ability to move quickly backwards or forwards, making the length
short or over-pitched. The area of the wicket wherein a ball can be
pitched that is a good length to Bradman is considerably narrower than
that which is defended by all our county batsmen, Woolley excepted. He
judges the direction of the attack rapidlyl never is he to be seen
lunging forward, stretched speculatively out; never does he fall into
that `two-minded' state which compels a batsman to make `A-shaped
bridges down the wicket feeling awry in the air for the ball', to
quote C.B. Fry. Bradman clinches Fry's celebrated Fallacy of Reach:
`The Fallacy of Reach is fatal to true cricket. None but a giant by
advancing the left foot and pushing out down the wicket can reach
within feet of the pitch of a good-length slow ball or within yards of
the pitch of a good-length fast ball. Why, the very thing a bowler
wants one to do, what he works to make one do, is to feel forward at
the pitch of his bowling.' Bradman plays back or else goes the whole
way of the forcing stroke on punitive decisive feet. When he is as a
last resort compelled to play forward, he actually goes back on his
wicket to do so, and his legs are behind the bat, and his eyes are on
the ball. So strong is his back play, and so quick his eyes and feet,
that it is fatal to bowl a short length to him. Yet, so far, that is
the mistake the English bowlers have made against Bradman. Frankly
they have not `stood up' to his punishment. Flattered by everyday
batsmanship (right foot rooted behind the crease), English bowling has
wilted at the sight of a bat that is busy and resolute; hence an
attempt to take refuge in short bowling, a safe enough dodge in front
of a cricketer who cannot cut. Bradman has thriven on bowling which he
has been at liberty to see all the way, to see pitch yards in front of
him. If he has a weak point, Robins, by accident or design, found it
out occasionally at Trent Bridge. Every time (which was not often)
that Robins sent a well-flighted ball to Bradman, pitched on the
middle stump and spinning away, Bradman was observed to be thinking
hard, entirely on the defensive. It is not, of course, for the
pavilion critic to presume to know the way that Bradman can be got out
cheaply. But it is surely not presumptuous for anybody to suggest that
the short-pitched ball is about the last of all to send to a batsman
with Bradman's voracious appetite for fours and his range of hits.
3~ He has all the qualities of batsmanship: footwork, wrists, economy
of power, the great strokes of the game, each thoroughly under
control. What, then, is the matter with him that we hesitate to call
him a master of style, an artist who delights us, and not only a
craftsman we are bound to admire without reserve? Is it that he is too
mechanically faultless for sport's sake? A number of Bradmans would
quickly put an end to the glorious uncertainty of cricket. A number of
Macartney's would inspire the game to hazardous heights more
exhilarating than ever...But this is a strain of criticism that is
comically churlish. Here have we been for years praying for a return
of batsmanship to its old versatility and aggression; we have been
desperate for the quick scorer who could hit fours without causing the
game to lapse into the indiscriminate clouting of the village green.
In short, we have been crying out for batsmanship that would combine
technique and energy in proporion. And now that a Bradman has come to
us, capable of 300 runs in a single day of a Test match, some of us
are calling him a Lindrum of cricket. It is a hard world to please.
Perhaps by making a duck some day, Bradman will oblige those of his
critics who believe with Lord Bacon that there should always be some
strangeness, something unexpected, mingled with art and beauty.
Sriram Narayan
In article <8lfvm5S00...@andrew.cmu.edu> Uday Rajan <ura...@andrew.cmu.edu> writes:
> From: Uday Rajan <ura...@andrew.cmu.edu>
> Newsgroups: rec.sport.cricket
> Date: Fri, 31 May 1996 23:44:05 -0400
> Organization: Graduate School of Industrial Administr., Carnegie Mellon, Pittsburgh, PA
>
> Bradman, in his TV interview, said that McCabe's 232 at Trent
> Bridge in 1938 was the best innings he had ever seen. The match report
> written by Neville Cardus on that day's play, published in the
> Manchester Guardian, follows.
> Glorious account by Cardus snipped...
What a beautiful description! I have long been aware of McCabe's innings
thanks to Fingleton, but I think Cardus' description is unsurpassed.
Many thanks to Uday Rajan for posting it. I was intrigued enough by Cardus'
account to want to know what happened to the Test. Here is the scorecard
from Cricinfo.
A couple of points: this must have been very early in the careers of
Compton and Hutton, but what a powerful batting side England was.
The series saw two other great batting performances: Hammond's 240 at
Lords in the 2nd Test and Hutton's 364 at the Oval in the 4th Test. Bradman
had a fairly quiet series by his standards (three 100s but a top score of
"only" 144 no). Of course, he was injured during England's marathon innings
at the Oval and couldn't bat. Note also O'Reilly opening the bowling and
Verity bowling only 7.3 overs in the Australian I innings ( but 62 in the
second). Wonder why he wasn't tried a bit earlier when McCabe was cutting
loose.
Thanks,
Sriram Narayan
Date-stamped : 23 Oct95 - 22:29
Format: CricInfo Version 1
Test # 263
England v Australia, 1st Test.
Trent Bridge, Nottingham.
10,11,13,14 June 1938.
Result: Match drawn
5-Test series level 0-0.
Toss: England
Umpires:
Close of Play:
England 1st innings
CJ Barnett b McCormick 126
L Hutton lbw b Fleetwood-Smith 100
WJ Edrich b O'Reilly 5
*WR Hammond b O'Reilly 26
E Paynter not out 216
DCS Compton c Badcock b Fleetwood-Smith 102
+LEG Ames b Fleetwood-Smith 46
H Verity b Fleetwood-Smith 3
RA Sinfield lbw b O'Reilly 6
DVP Wright not out 1
Extras (b 1, lb 22, nb 4) 27
Total (8 wickets declared) 658
DNB: K Farnes.
FoW: 1-219, 2-240, 3-244, 4-281, 5-487,
6-577, 7-597, 8-626.
Bowling O M R W
McCormick 32 4 108 1
O'Reilly 56 11 164 3
McCabe 21 5 64 0
Fleetwood-Smith 49 9 153 4
Ward 30 2 142 0
Australia 1st innings
JHW Fingleton b Wright 9
WA Brown c Ames b Farnes 48
*DG Bradman c Ames b Sinfield 51
SJ McCabe c Compton b Verity 232
FA Ward b Farnes 2
AL Hassett c Hammond b Wright 1
CL Badcock b Wright 9
+BA Barnett c Wright b Farnes 22
WJ O'Reilly c Paynter b Farnes 9
EL McCormick b Wright 2
LO'B Fleetwood-Smith not out 5
Extras (b 10, lb 10, w 1) 21
Total (all out) 411
FoW: 1-34, 2-111, 3-134, 4-144, 5-151,
6-194, 7-263, 8-319, 9-334, 10-411.
Bowling O M R W
Farnes 37 11 106 4
Hammond 19 7 44 0
Sinfield 28 8 51 1
Wright 39 6 153 4
Verity 7.3 0 36 1
Australia 2nd innings
JHW Fingleton c Hammond b Edrich 40
WA Brown c Paynter b Verity 133
*DG Bradman not out 144
SJ McCabe c Hammond b Verity 39
AL Hassett c Compton b Verity 2
CL Badcock b Wright 5
+BA Barnett lbw b Sinfield 31
FA Ward not out 7
Extras (b 5, lb 16, nb 5) 26
Total (6 wickets declared) 427
DNB: WJ O'Reilly, EL McCormick, LO'B Fleetwood-Smith.
FoW: 1-89, 2-259, 3-331, 4-337, 5-369, 6-417.
Bowling O M R W
Farnes 24 2 78 0
Hammond 12 6 15 0
Sinfield 35 8 72 1
Wright 37 8 85 1
Verity 62 27 102 3
Edrich 13 2 39 1
CJ Barnett 1 0 10 0
Thanks: Travis, Vishal
<END> Contributed by The.Management (mg...@cricinfo.cse.ogi.edu)
John Hall
In article <SRIRAMN.96...@rebel.cyrix.com>, Sriram Narayan
<sri...@rebel.cyrix.com> writes
>In article <8lfvm5S00...@andrew.cmu.edu> Uday Rajan
><ura...@andrew.cmu.edu> writes:
>
>> From: Uday Rajan <ura...@andrew.cmu.edu>
>> Newsgroups: rec.sport.cricket
>> Date: Fri, 31 May 1996 23:44:05 -0400
>> Organization: Graduate School of Industrial Administr., Carnegie Mellon,
>Pittsburgh, PA
>>
>> Bridge in 1938 was the best innings he had ever seen. The match report
>> written by Neville Cardus on that day's play, published in the
>> Manchester Guardian, follows.
>
>What a beautiful description! I have long been aware of McCabe's innings
>thanks to Fingleton, but I think Cardus' description is unsurpassed.
It's a lovely piece of writing, isn't it?
>
>Many thanks to Uday Rajan for posting it.
Hear, hear.
> I was intrigued enough by Cardus'
>account to want to know what happened to the Test. Here is the scorecard
>from Cricinfo.
>
>A couple of points: this must have been very early in the careers of
>Compton and Hutton,
Yes. This match was Compton's first Test appearance, whilst Hutton had
made his debut the previous year.
> but what a powerful batting side England was.
Yes, with 3 of the top 10 English batsmen of all time (Hutton, Compton,
Hammond), and a wicketkeeper-batsman at number 7 in Les Ames who was to
make 100 first-class centuries.
>The series saw two other great batting performances: Hammond's 240 at
>Lords in the 2nd Test and Hutton's 364 at the Oval in the 4th Test. Bradman
>had a fairly quiet series by his standards (three 100s but a top score of
>"only" 144 no). Of course, he was injured during England's marathon innings
>at the Oval and couldn't bat. Note also O'Reilly opening the bowling and
>Verity bowling only 7.3 overs in the Australian I innings ( but 62 in the
>second). Wonder why he wasn't tried a bit earlier when McCabe was cutting
>loose.
That does seem odd. I wonder if he could have been off the field feeling
unwell?
--
Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
"I am not young enough to know everything."
Mad Hamish
>A couple of points: this must have been very early in the careers of
>Compton and Hutton,
I believe it may have been their debut match.
>E Paynter not out 216
rarely played for england and averaged about 60. Strange.
****************************************************************************
The Politician's Slogan
'You can fool all of the people some of the time and some of the people all
of the time, but you can't fool all of the people all of the time.
Fortunately only a simple majority is required.'
****************************************************************************
Mad Hamish
Hamish Laws
h_l...@postoffice.sandybay.utas.edu.au
John Hall
In article <h_laws.60...@postoffice.sandybay.utas.edu.au>, Mad
Hamish <h_l...@postoffice.sandybay.utas.edu.au> writes
>
>>E Paynter not out 216
>
>rarely played for england and averaged about 60. Strange.
He played 20 Tests between 1931 and 1939, which probably equates to
about 50 nowadays, given the increase in the number of Tests played. He
might have played in more but for WW2. And England had an awful lot of
good batsmen to choose from during his career: Sutcliffe, Hammond,
Hutton, Compton, Hendren, Leyland, Jardine, E.Tyldesley, W.J.Edrich,
Ames...
--
"But I am a great eater of beef, and I believe
that does harm to my wit."
William Shakespeare, "Twelfth Night"
Dipak Basu
Thank you, Uday, for posting the article on this amazing effort of Stan
McCabe. Some of the aspects of his innings are unbelievable even
considering today's high scoring oe-dayers. I've snipped some of these
from the article and appended the scorecard of the game (from Cricinfo) to
put it in perspective. The English bowling was nothing to sneer at
either.
In article <8lfvm5S00...@andrew.cmu.edu>, Uday Rajan
<ura...@andrew.cmu.edu> wrote:
.....
> Bradman, in his TV interview, said that McCabe's 232 at Trent
> Bridge in 1938 was the best innings he had ever seen
.....
> Today he scored 213
> out of 273 in three and a quarter hours while 7 wickets fell.
....
> The innings was rent in twain now; McCabe was left standing on a
> solitary rock of sound technique; between him and the rearguard yawned
> a chasm. He proceeded to play the cricket of heroic loneliness...
....
> When McCormick was bowled McCabe was 160; he now scored 50 in a
> little more than a quarter of an hour. He blinded us with four fours
> in an over from Wright; his innings became incandescent; he reached
> his two hundred and received worthy acclamation.
....
> He scored 72 out of 77 for the last wicket in half
> an hour; after lunch he scored 127 in 80 minutes. In all, he scored
> 232 out of 300 runs in 230 minutes, and hit a six and 34 fours.
Date-stamped : 23 Oct95 - 22:29
Format: CricInfo Version 1
Test # 263
England v Australia, 1st Test.
Trent Bridge, Nottingham.
10,11,13,14 June 1938.
Result: Match drawn
5-Test series level 0-0.
Toss: England
Umpires:
Close of Play:
England 1st innings
CJ Barnett b McCormick 126
L Hutton lbw b Fleetwood-Smith 100
WJ Edrich b O'Reilly 5
*WR Hammond b O'Reilly 26
E Paynter not out 216
Richard Lighton
In article <ulXoUFA$Otsx...@jhall.demon.co.uk>,
John Hall <jo...@jhall.demon.co.uk> wrote:
> In article <h_laws.60...@postoffice.sandybay.utas.edu.au>, Mad
> Hamish <h_l...@postoffice.sandybay.utas.edu.au> writes
> >
> >
>
> He played 20 Tests between 1931 and 1939, which probably equates to
> about 50 nowadays, given the increase in the number of Tests played. He
> might have played in more but for WW2. And England had an awful lot of
> good batsmen to choose from during his career: Sutcliffe, Hammond,
> Hutton, Compton, Hendren, Leyland, Jardine, E.Tyldesley, W.J.Edrich,
> Ames...
> --
he wasn't a regular for Lancashire until he was 29. He was selected
for England in 1931 apparently on the basis of a 152 for Lancashire
against Yorkshire and played in 9 tests between then and the 1932-3
tour of Australia and NZ. His overall average in these tests was 36.37,
with 3 50s and no 100s. He wasn't selected for England again until
1937.
In 1937, 1938, and 1938-39 he had spectacular success. Against
Australia in 1938 he averaged over 100, and in South Africa in 38-39
he scored a century in each innnings in the 1st test, and a 243 in the
3rd.. In addition in the same period he had 3 scores over 250
in county cricket for Lancashire (322, 291, 266). He did not
return to cricket after the war (he was about 45 by then)
Richard Lighton
(lig...@ios.com)
Wood-Ridge NJ