by A. W. Pullin
"The finish to this match furnished, however, the most sensational part of the cricket. Cambridge's second innings score was 206, of which Dale and I had made 167 between us from the bat. Oxford took the last innings, requiring 179 to win. When 7 wickets had fallen 3 runs were wanted to tie and 4 to win. F. H. Hill was nicely set, and he hit a ball from E. E. Ward (who had been bowling beautifully throughout the innings), which, but for an extraordinary stop with the one hand by A. Bourne, would have been a boundary, and have given Oxford the verdict by 3 wickets. As it was, the hit only yielded a single. The same fielder caught S. E. Butler off the second ball of Cobden's over, Hill having scored a single off the first, and Cobden clean bowled the two following batsmen, W. A. Stewart and T. H Belcher, with the first ball each received. Thus the hat trick was done in the over, and Cambridge achieved what had seemed to be an impossible victory by 2 runs. I was wicket-keeping at the time this sensational finish occurred.
"In 1871 I was captain of the Cantabs, and as luck would have it that was the only year of the four years in which I played for Cambridge that we were beaten. That match was almost as sensational as the one just noted, for Sam Butler took the whole of the ten Cambridge wickets in the first innings for only 38 runs, this being the only occasion on which the feat has been done in the Oxford v. Cambridge matches. Cambridge made 65 runs in the first innings, and of that figure W. B. Money scored 23, and I was credited with 25. The others found Butler practically unplayable."
Reference has already been made in the introductory paragraphs of this Talk to the extraordinary bet that was made against the repetition of century scores in the 'Varsity matches. Mr Yardley now says that at the time he stated that grounds were so improving that hundreds would average one a-year in the matches. As a matter of fact, a period of twenty-six years from the making of the first 100 by him yielded twenty scores of 100 or upwards, so that his prophecy proved to be very near the mark.
It is recorded that before the 'Varsity match in 1872, when Yardley scored his innings of 130, and Cambridge unexpectedly won by an innings and 166 runs, Oxford were such strong favourites that odds of 3 to 1 were freely laid on them. Mr Yardley himself was indirectly associated with another strange bet which very nearly came off, and which is certainly worth the telling now, if only to illustrate afresh the uncertainties of the game and the folly of betting in general.
"Shortly before this match," says Mr Yardley, "a friend of mine, who is not unknown to fame, Major Templer, the balloonist, now, by the way, in charge of the traction-engine transport service in South Africa, was down at Harrow, and we were discussing the 'Varsities' prospects, and the betting, which ruled considerably in favour of Oxford, as it was natural it should from the results of the trial-matches. A friend of Major Templer's said it was any odds on Oxford, whereupon Major Templer asked, 'What odds will you lay that Yardley does not beat them off his own bat?' The remark resulted in Templer's friend laying Templer and myself between us £2oo to JQ1, ;£100 to 10s. apiece, that such a thing would not happen.
"Well, I managed to score 130, and Oxford were dismissed for 72. Being 316 behind, they followed their innings, and the very first ball that Powys bowled to Ottaway in the second innings was a full-pitch dead on the middle stump. Ottaway seemed flustered and got right in front of his wicket, and the ball hit him full on the middle of the pad. There was a general appeal of 'How's that?' and the umpire's reply was, 'Not out.' Ottaway afterwards admitted himself that he was dead out, and on the umpire being subsequently asked why he gave such an extraordinarily erroneous decision, he gave as an excuse, which I have not the slightest doubt was correct, that Powys's body came between him and the batsman, and he could not see what had occurred, and felt consequently
Q
bound to decide in favour of the batsman, which to my mind is sound enough umpiring.
"Ottaway made his score into 41, and the innings closed for 150. Had he been given out to the first ball, as he should have been, the moral effect would probably have been such that it is only a fair inference to say it might have been a close thing as to whether the layer of the bet of 200 to 1 would not have been ^200 the worse for his confident speculation. Without any admiration for Ottaway's style, I always looked upon him as one of the soundest cricketers I ever came across. There was nothing he could not do at cricket, and though some did not like his style, 'he got there all the same,' as the song says."
When nineteen years of age, and still a student at Rugby, Mr Yardley played for Kent, meeting with considerable success. In Gentlemen v. Players he afterwards played at Lord's for six consecutive years, and had an average of 40.
"I used," says he, "always to bet W. G. Grace half-a-crown on my runs against his when we played on the same side against the same bowling. In the year 1871, when George Freeman was playing for the Players v. Gentlemen at Lord's, this friendly wagering led to an interesting circumstance. Grace went in first on a nasty, wet, and sticky wicket. I went in second wicket down, and Grace having made 50 met me going to the wicket as he was retiring to the pavilion and said, 'I think I have got your half-crown all right this time, Bill. It's an awful wicket, and they're bowling like fiends.' But I was fortunate enough to make 51, so had the pleasure of pocketing his half-dollar.
"In the second innings the same thing happened. W. G. got 37, and I had to follow him in, when he said, 'I'm certain to get that half-crown back this time.' But he reckoned in error again. I stayed on to the end, not knowing exactly how many runs I had got, though being sure I must be pretty well in the neighbourhood of 50. George Freeman was bowling from the nursery end, and I played a ball very hard rather wide of his left hand. Making sure he could not field it, I backed up well, thinking I should get at least 3 runs for the hit. Freeman, however, fielded the ball in a marvellous way, and on trying to turn round and get back to the crease, I slipped on the mud, fell on my back, and was easily run out. Of course I had my eye on the score-board as I walked back to the pavilion, and thinking of my bet with W. G., I indulged in a broad smile of satisfaction when I found I had again got 51, and had very easily won his second half-crown.
"I think the best innings I ever played in my life, and I am also inclined to say the best I ever saw W. G. play, was in a match at the Prince's Ground, on a wicket which could only be described as diabolical. The match was Gentlemen of the South v. Players of the North. W. G., as usual, went in first, and had made 10 out of 16 when I joined him, second wicket down. I forget the exact figures, but I know I made between 70 and 80, and he made between 80 and 90, the whole side being out for rather less than 190. We both got out within a few balls of one another, and we each stripped to the buff in the dressing-room with a view of having warm baths and our bruises rubbed with embrocation. We were both absolutely black and blue from the blows we had received from M'Intyre, J. C. Shaw, and Morley. It was an extraordinary batting performance on the part of both of us, but we were inclined to think that we had been fools to stop in to be bashed about as we had been.
"You will know I have never been to Australia on a cricket tour, but I am entitled to say it was not for want of an invitation. I was asked to go when W. G. Grace took his team out, and although I was offered an extremely handsome sum, apart from all expenses, I decided not to go. The reason for this decision was partly because my family were against it, and partly because I was doubtful whether it would not compromise my position as an amateur. I need hardly say that if I had the same offer now, and were of the same age, I should not hesitate for a moment in accepting it.
"I only played once against the Australians, and that was after I had given up first-class cricket It was with the Orleans Club, on July 8, 9, 1878, and I played in the name of L. Leigh. I had not had a bat in my hand all the season, so was not surprised when I was caught and bowled first ball by Allan. I made 16 in the second innings, and prided myself on having stopped two shooters from Spofforth.
"I ought to say I was very fond of playing slow underhand bowling. I remember well on one o
ccasion playing for M.C.C against Yorkshire at Lord's, when I was in with my old friend Jack Dale, who was just as fond of lobs as I was, and quite as good at hitting them, if not better. We were well set, when dear old Roger Iddison called out, 'Give me the ball; I'll get them out.' I said, 'Roger, you don't expect to get Mr Dale or me out with lobs, do you 1' 'You wait and see,' was his retort. Then I remarked, 'Roger, I'll bet you half-asovereign that I'll make more runs than you will bowl me balls.' 'Done along of you, sir,' was his prompt reply, so we posted our two half-sovereigns in the hands of one of the umpires as stakeholder. This may not have been strictly cricket, but it was, at anyrate, an evidence of the good fellowship that existed between us.
"Well, Roger commenced by tossing up one of his high slow ones. I calmly walked out two or three yards and cracked it to the boundary for 4. 'You can't beat me this over, anyway, Roger,' said I, the over then being four balls. 'How if I get you out ?' asked Roger. 'We have no stipulation as to that,' I replied; 'but I am willing to bet you 10s. to 1s. you don't get me out this over.' He would not take it on. The next ball I started out to meet him, but he dropped it a bit short, and I managed to take it on the long-hop, and we could have run 3 for it easily. I should say that before that Dale had implored me to let him have half of the over, remarking,'He'll never bowl another one, Bill, and I do want to have some of it.' I refused, however, and when this hit, which could have been 3, was made, Dale nearly ran himself out in trying to force me to run the odd run. The next ball I hit for 2, and the fourth to the boundary, thus making 12 runs in the over.
"At the close of the over I was rather astonished to see Roger go to the umpire and collect the two half-sovereigns, and then walk straight up and present them to me. I told him to take his own half-sovereign back, on condition that he spent it among the boys of his own team, and did not try any more slows on me for his own reputation's sake. I then suggested he should try an over of slows at Mr Dale, on the same terms. But although Dale offered to increase the bet to 2 to 1 on himself, Roger had had enough. Dale was right when he said Roger would not bowl a second over.
"Another amusing circumstance occurs to me. . There was a certain Dr Jones, who was a very ardent supporter of the Surrey Club. I had been playing in a match at the Oval, which had concluded about luncheon-time on the third day. Dr Jones was a man of a rather assertive manner, with a strident voice. He said to me, 'What are you doing this afternoon 1 If you have nothing better to do come down to Cook's billiard-rooms in Regent Street.' Having nothing better to do, I went down, and found a billiard-table in possession of Ginger Stubbs, a well-known old-time sportsman, who was engaged in a game of pyramids with another gentleman. As soon as Stubbs had completed the game, which he did by taking the last five balls in succession, Dr Jones took the opportunity of introducing me to him. This he did in a raucous, high-pitched voice as follows :—
"' Mr Stubbs, I want to introduce you to Mr Yardley, one of the most promising, if not the most promising young cricketer we have. He will make his mark at cricket—in fact he has already done so; and he is a sportsman worthy of your acquaintance.' Ginger Stubbs turned round, looked me up and down from under his shaggy eyebrows, and puckering up his little wrinkled face, he exclaimed, with an indescribable depth of scorn, 'Rotten game, cricket.' He then coolly proceeded to chalk his cue and commence another game of pyramids. And that was all the appreciation the 'promising young cricketer' got from Ginger Stubbs."
Several cricketers with whom the writer has had Talks have referred to the Summers fatality. Mr Yardley more than all is able to tell what really happened on that occasion, for he was keeping wicket when the accident occurred. Parenthetically it may be mentioned that Mr Yardley has not a great idea of his own abilities as a wicket-keeper. "Why I was asked to keep wicket," he says, "goodness only knows, for I was a most indifferent performer behind the sticks, and though I kept wicket two years at Cambridge it was simply because no one else would undertake the job."
"Well, I was keeping wicket when poor Summers received his fatal blow. If Summers had been able to duck and avoid the ball I must inevitably have got it between the eyes. I have often felt sorry since that it was not I who was struck, for I don't suppose that the result would have been more than a pair of lovely black eyes to me, whereas Summers was struck in a vital part—i.e., on the thinnest part of the temple, which was fractured by the blow, it appeared, at the postmortem examination. In all my career I never saw a ball get up with such lightning rapidity. The pitch of the ball and the blow on Summers's head appeared to be simultaneous. I am perfectly sure the ball must have struck a small stone: it was impossible for it to get up in that way from ordinary turf. The occurrence was the purest accident. When struck Summers reeled like a teetotum, and fell. He died four days afterwards."
Mr Yardley considers Alf. Shaw the finest bowler, and Martin M'Intyre the "most unpleasant" he ever played against. Shaw kept the batsman "up to the mark"; M'Intyre "bumped" most unpleasantly, and he adds that "the wickets were sometimes horribly rough in those days; you never knew whether the ball was going to shoot or fly over your head." As a hitter, Mr Yardley will not place Bonnor or any one else on the same pedestal as C. I. Thornton. He and Thornton went up together to Cambridge with, he says, a "tremendous flourish of trumpets." They were on opposite sides as Freshmen, in which match they each made top score for their respective sides, Mr Yardley's contribution being 154—pretty nearly, if not quite, a record in the Freshman's match; and both went at once into the University Eleven.
Of late years Mr Yardley has been too busily occupied to pay close attention to cricket. He has only seen "Ranji" bat twice,—at the time of these lines being penned,—and then under circumstances which are somewhat curious, as the following will show :—
"In November 1896 I was at a dinner at the Hotel Cecil, and sat next to Ranjitsinhji, whom I thus met for the first time. Of course we talked about cricket and shooting, both of which pastimes we were equally fond of. Towards the end of the evening I confessed to 'Ranji' with some shame that I had never seen him play, whereupon, with that pleasant smile of his, he ventured the remark that perhaps I had suffered no great loss. I differed from him, and promised to take the pleasure of seeing him bat at the first subsequent opportunity if he would promise to make 100. He laughingly replied he would do his best. He proved as good as his word. The opportunity came on May 13 of the following year, when the young Prince delighted me with a score of 260 out of 418 for Sussex against the M.C.C. at Lord's. Five days later I saw him a second time for M.C.C. v. Lancashire, when he scored 157. Those were the only two occasions on which I have seen the famous 'Ranji' bat, and as he made 417 for twice out, I think he redeemed his promise to me in very handsome fashion indeed."
It has been said earlier in this article that Mr Yardley was ambidextrous. Just a fact or two may be added in proof. At cricket he bowled fast round-arm with his left and medium with his right. In 1871 he won the Racquet Championship at Cambridge, but was defeated easily by Ottaway in the inter-'Varsity contest at Prince's.
We hear a great deal nowadays of the liberal expenses of amateur players. Mr Yardley and his associates of the 'Seventies do not appear to have been thus favoured. "When I was playing," he says, "amateurs did not get more than their travelling expenses; they did not even receive their hotel expenses. In Kent we had a rule not to allow even travelling expenses for a journey of less than fifty miles. I guess things have changed somewhat, haven't they!"
249
EPHRAIM LOCKWOOD.
IT is characteristic of the best cricketers that they like to talk about themselves the least. "Eph." Lockwood is a particularly difficult subject to "draw." You are met at the outset by the remark that he has "nowt to say," that he has "ta'en noa noates," and recollects "little abaht it." This is all true natural modesty. It increases your respect for the man, and makes you the more eager to break down his reserve and penetrate his treasure-house of recollections.
Beneath the rough exterior, and b
ehind the broad speech of the old Lascelles Hall cricketer, the grit of a Yorkshireman can be discovered. Ephraim Lockwood was a typical Lascelles Hall boy — uneducated, "dragged up." Fame came to him through the medium of the cricket-field, but though it may occasionally have disturbed it did not destroy his balance, nor make him unmindful of the struggling community in which he was reared. To-day he is to be found in possession of a business—a good one, the writer hopes. It is that of an athletic outfitter at No. 18 West Parade, Huddersfield. All the members of the Lascelles Hall school cannot at fifty-four show such a satisfactory career as "Eph." Lockwood, though he will be the last to say he had not to pay in the school of experience for the irresponsibilities of his upbringing.
Lockwood was born on April 4, 1845. The day when he began cricket practice is too far back for him to remember. It used to be said that at Lascelles Hall the boys turned naturally to cricket as a duck does to water. Shoeless and hatless, when they were not looking after bobbins they were playing cricket. Young Ephraim spent many a careless hour practising cricket with bare feet on the roadside. There may be some connection between this absence of shoe-leather and his subsequent reputation as the possessor of big feet. "Eph." Lockwood will laughingly admit even now that he possesses perhaps the largest big toe that has ever assisted a man to cover the ground between the wickets.
"We used to do a lot of practice on the road with seatboard legs and crewelled yarn-balls. Don't know what seatboard legs are! Ah, you didn't know the old handloom weavers. Seat-board legs were the sticks that used to support the handloom weavers' seats. Practice1 When I was a lad we were always at it. Practice had even greater attractions than dinner. I have often dined on a turnip rather than break away from a good practice. In those days there was not much dinner to be had at Lascelles Hall, so that it did not matter."