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COLIN COWDREY
Wisden CricInfo staff - January 1, 2001
Doug Insole
Chose and then dropped him as captain
MY FIRST long look at Colin came at Scarborough in 1952 when, at the age of 19, he made 51 not out. I was struck by his composure at the crease; by the timing of his shots, especially through the covers and off his legs, and, in particular, by the amount of time he had to play the ball. His build was pretty chunky but he was very quick on his feet and quite sharp between the wickets.
Over the next three or four years his game developed naturally and, following the highly successful tour of Australia in 1954-55, Colin became an essential component of the English side. However, as he became more analytical of international opposition and of his own technique, he tended increasingly to dwell on his own supposed shortcomings and this, from time to time, weighted him down. Talent and courage he had in abundance and it was only his own self-doubt that prevented his record from being even more outstanding.
Colin was, in fact, a very complex personality. Early on in his cricketing life he was positive in thought and action, though as his career developed and his responsibilities increased, he was perceived as finding it difficult to make up his mind. But then, in more recent times, he showed a determination and decisiveness in dealing with contoversial matters which was widely admired and applauded.
My first experience of his self-doubt came in 1956 after Colin had taken over from Len Hutton the job of opening the England innings throughout a highly successful Ashes campaign. He was duly selected - in the minds of the selectors at least - to tour South Africa as an opening batsman. We were on the boat, well on the way to Cape Town, when Colin said he would not be opening the innings because he felt that his predominantly front-foot technique was not suited to, or capable of dealing with, the problems caused by Peter Heine and Neil Adcock, two very tall fast bowler who made the ball lift from only just short of a length. He could not be persuaded to change his mind and, in the event, Trevor Bailey opened throughout the series.
Some 10 years afterwards, I was chairman of selectors for the series against West Indies in which, for three of the five Tests, Colin was England captain. We were being defeated heavily, and one of the main reasons for our plight was the unorthodox bowling action of Charlie Griffith, who was a daunting prospect. Colin"s reaction to the situation was, perhaps understandably, to wring his hands and lament the fact that he and his team were obliged to have to deal with this form of attack. The effect, however, was that morale, as well as form, hit rock-bottom. It was absolutely typical of Colin that in response to my letter confirming that he would not be playing in the last Test he wrote: A line to wish you a less nerve-racking contest than any of the others. Sorry I let you down. His letter ended: All the best, Kipper.
There were two specific journeys I made with Colin, which symbolised his personal courage. The first was in 1963 when he was hit on the arm against West Indies at Lord"s and I drove him down to Bill Tucker"s clinic in Park Street for an x-ray. I left a message on the windscreen saying, Do not tow away. Colin Cowdrey inside. The grammar was dodgy, but it worked. Colin returned from the clinic with his left arm in plaster determined to bat one-handed and, if necessary, to do a Close and get his body in the way of the ball. His protective clothing amounted to a box and, possibly, a thigh pad. In the event, of course, he went to the wicket but did not have to face a ball.
The second trip was to Sharjah where, as chairman of ICC in 1991, Colin presided over the meeting which approved South Africa"s participation in the World Cup the following year, reversing the decision taken at Lord"s some months previously. At the time, Colin was enduring one of the periodical bouts of poor health that followed a major heart operation and he came to the airport directly from hospital, to which he returned four days later on getting back from Sharjah. He looked and felt awful, but he had campaigned hard to obtain what he considered to be the right decision and he was determined that he should be in the chair to ensure its acceptance.
His stint as president of MCC was highlighted by the resolution of the South Africa controversy, which had threatened to split the club asunder and had defied the best endeavours of his predecessors in office to sort out. There is little doubt that the stress of the situation was a very real factor in the subsequent deterioration of his health.
Colin was an inspirational taker about cricket. He had a missionary zeal. He also had a delightful and benevolent sense of humour. The amount of time and effort he gave to cricketing causes was unbelievably generous. When, last autumn, I wrote in a letter to Sir Don Bradman that Colin was fighting hard to recover from a stroke, he responded by expressing his concern and adding: I regard him as a true and genuine friend. A great many people, myself included, are of the same mind.
David Gower watched him as a schoolboy
IT IS ALL too easy to talk of Colin Cowdrey as one of the great timers of a cricket ballbut it is much harder to define why or how this was so.
I have a distant yet still vivid memory of a Cowdrey cover-drive at Lord"s racing its way over the outfield up the hill to the Grandstand boundary.
There was so little apparent effort in the shot, which would have begun with a cocking of the wrists in the backlift. Then he would have allowed the ball to come to him, playing it right under his nose at the last possible moment, meaning that maximum momentum could be transferred from his body via the bat into the ball. The wrists would have flicked at the precise moment to add speed to the bat and the follow through would have been such that the hands finished at waist height with the bat just past the perpendicular on its way round to his shoulders.
There would have been no need to run.
Jack Bannister
County opponent with Warwickshire
COWDREY THE eternal enigma. Technically, just short of greatness - because he averaged only 44.06 for England and 42.89 in a career of 692 first-class matches spread over four decades. Figures do matter: of the 15 batsmen ever to top 40,000 first-class runs. Only four had a lower average - W. G. Grace. Frank Woolley, Tom Hayward and Dennis Amiss- and three of those played before the First World War on more difficult pitches.
Of equal significance is that he only converted three of his 107 hundreds into doubles, suggesting that the charge of diffidence about his own ability was not unfounded. A personal memory is shared by Mike Selvey, who bowled to him towards the end of a career in which I bowled to him in his pomp in the 1950s and 60s. He was a beamer. He always seemed to smile at you, no matter what the state of the game or the pitch.
I fluked a caught-and-bowled at The Parks before he toured Australia in 1954-55 and, as he passed me, he smiled, Jolly well caught. Within seven years, he took me apart on his way to a brilliant hundred for Kent at Edgbaston. As each majestic drive, cut or pull hit the fence, he said, Bad luck and jolly well bowled. The same sort of infuriating reaction with which Bishen Bedi used to applaud anyone who hit him for six.
No man whose first three Tests required him to arrive at the crease at 11 for 3 in Brisbane, 58 and 55 for 3 at Sydney and then 41 for 4 at Melbourne, could ever be accused of lack of steel. Not when he scored 40, 23, 54 and 102 out of totals of 190, 154, 296 and 191 respectively - and all at the age of 22.
A great talent? Yes. A great batsman? No.
Jack Bannister
And yet ... as the natural confidence of youth was nibbled away by experience, he seemed to rein in a talent that was given to few. A great talent? Yes. A great batsman? No. And that is the enigma of, arguably, a man who made a bigger contribution to the game he loved, on and off the field, than anyone in the second half of the 20th century.
Lord Williams
Played with him at Oxford
WHEN I FIRST played with Colin for the Southern Schools XI he was still a very right-handed batsman, but by the time he got to Oxford he was a pretty complete and attractive player - even though he was never a great cutter or hooker. What I remember best is the shot he played on his toes through the covers. The pitch at The Parks was not dusty, but it did take a bit of spin, and Colin was the first player to develop the technique of playing spin with the bat tucked in behind the pad. Against pace, he rocked back then forward, getting the distribution of his weight right. Against someone like Tyson, you scarcely had time to move your feet - especially someone like Colin, who was never very agile. He had flat feet and fallen arches.
There is a story that he was dyslexic and that when he took his finals at Oxford, his reply to question asking what he knew about the Peloponnesian Wars was, Dam all. The examiner supposedly said that he would have given Cowdrey a third if he had spelled damn correctly. I don"t believe this. He was a good correspondent. We were playing together and I remember asking whether he was going to take his finals. He said he couldn"t be bothered. He was not the brain of Britain, after all, and his scholarship to Brasenose was a sports scholarship.
At Oxford he was quite and slightly distant. He never came out with the lads for a beer, and the rest of us were slightly in awe of his skill. He used to sleep the whole time in the dressing room. There seemed to be a lethargy about him, physically and mentally. After he retired, he was not very good at chairing meetings. Colin could never get off the pot. In other words, he was not very good at taking decisions.
For many in Australia, Colin epitomised English cricket
Paul Sheahan
Paul Sheahan
Australian batsman and Ashes rival
I SUPPOSE for many in Australia, Colin Cowdrey epitomised English cricket - and it doesn"t mean quite the same thing since his passing. I"m not being sentimental - he was a reminder of a time when people were playing the sport as part of the mosaic of their lives. Today"s players are employees of the game, and find it hard to see outside that enclosed world. I don"t envy them at all.
As a person Colin was a conciliator, a stabiliser - humble, and rather diffident. Here was a bloke who had made it to the pinnacle of Test cricket, and yet there was still some self-doubt, undue modesty perhaps. I wouldn"t be critical of that - people have different personalities, and you accepted him for what he was - but I suppose those qualities counted against him at times, and might be why he never got a sustained run as England"s captain.
He was captain in 1968, though, which was my first tour with Australia. He made a hundred at Edgbaston, in his 100th Test, and I have a vivid memory of the shot that took him there. Johnny Gleeson was bowling, and Colin just stepped out and stroked a lovely cover drive, his signature shot I suppose, which really whistled to the boundary. fabulous timing, Tom Graveney was batting with him, and he strolled down the wicket and said, Useful, Kipper.Typical British understatement.
Colin was a beautifully balanced batsman, one of those who make it look effortless, like Mark Waugh or David Gower. It"s an illusion, of course - it isn"t effortless at all. He wasn"t the most atheletic man, but he was very light on his feet, and had a great eye. I experienced that the first time I played against him. It was for the Prime Minister"s XI against the MCC tourists at Canberra in 1965-66. Neil Harvey nicked one. Colin took a sharp catch at slip, stuck the ball in his pocket, looked round to the boundary and started applauding the four. It was a bit unnerving - I was the next man in and wasn"t sure what was going on!
My abiding memory of him is from 1992, when my wife and I were walking in Arundel, and a rural-looking estate car pulled up. It was Colin. Master, how jolly good to see you! he said, and invited us back for tea. He was an incredibly nice person.
There was also 1974-75, of course, when he was called up for another Australian tour aged 42. He wasn"t bowed by the pace of those wild colonial boys Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thomson. His approach had a big effect on me - it was the sort of quiet courage that I imagine the British must have shown during the Second World war. He was just a complete gentleman.
I regard him as a true adn genuine friend
Don Bradman
Cowdrey congratulates Fred Trueman on his 300th Test Wicket
Cowdrey, 42, facing wild coloninal boy Dennis Lillee
Raman Subba Row
Played with and against him
THE SCENE IS Lord"s June 1960. Colin Cowdrey and I go through the Long Room and down the steps to open the England innings in the Test against Jackie McGlew"s South African side. Now, says Colin, we have to decide whether we are playing to win or to entertain - I don"t mind which way we go, but I do think we need a strategy. Typical of the man and his sense of perspective. He had played for England for six years and I was a relative newcomer. What does he do? He immediately makes me laugh and relax.
Our friendship had gone back 10 years. Both his grandfather and his father had been educated at my own school - Whitgift - in south London before his dad became a coffee planter in south India. Hence Colin spent some of his holidays while at Tonbridge with friends of his parents. We played together locally and on the south coast at Cooden Beach where my parents had a beach house. Then Oxford v Cambridge, Surrey v Kent, Gents v Players, where we played for or against each other.
My abiding memory of Colin was his sense of fun. On the 1959-60 tour of the West Indies we were one-up in the series after three Tests when our captain, Peter May, had to return home due to illness. Colin took over and, because we"d drawn the fourth Test, we needed only a draw to win the series. Pressure from the manager to declare and make a game of the fifth Test was perfectly dealt with by the new captain, who locked himself in the toilet and could not be disturbed.
On the other side of the coin, Colin could have moments of insecurity and indecision - memorable only because they affected us lesser mortals from time to time and were not expected from such a great player. Perhaps his sense of fair play and his unwillingness to take advantage of other player were relevant factors here.
One must not forget his communication skills. Much time and effort was devoted to keeping in touch with family and friends. A lengthy telephone conversation with him on the day before he died comprised many laughs and much putting the world to rights - a fitting memory of a true friend.
Bob Woolmer Colleague at Kent
MID-SEASON, 1968: Alan Dixon"s benefit year, and Kent were having a darts and fun evening at Alan Watt"s pub. After a couple of shandies. I slipped out to nature"s watering hole, and I was suddenly standing next to my hero, who later became my mentor. I was amazed that he knew who I was. He asked me how I was enjoying my first season, and wanted to know about my ambitions.
I gabbled something about wanting to play for Kent and England- like you sir. immediately I regretted it, thinking I could have said that I just wanted to do my very best but no, my heart was on my sleeve. Colin amazed me again. If you want it badly enough you can go anywhere, he said. But the cards will have to fall in the right place! That was my first chat with the Master (Stuart leary"s word for him) and it was to be the first of many.
He was an English gentlemen in the Jeeves mould, with superb manners. On the field of play, however, he was a fierce competitor, and a deep thinker on the game, so much so that his peers were often critical of his methods. Once, against Sussex at Tunbridge Wells, Ken Suttle was scoring a hundred, and Colin was setting fields, apparently, for Bill Lawry. England were playing against him the following weekend. I cannot say I noticed the difference.
Technically, he would talk about simple things: start your innings with the bottom hand holding the bat as if it were a baby bird, gently, don"t squeeze too tight, don"t throttle the handle. Of course, this allows the bat to come in straighter defensively, and might also prevent the ball carrying to slip off a defensive push.
Since we lived close to each other, I was fortunate enough to be allocated Colin as a travelling companion. This was a great learning experience. Overtaking two cars on the old A303 through Hampshire in the green Jag - MCC307 - was as challenging as persuading Freddie Trueman through the covers for two. How to play Hall on a bouncy wicket. How to take on Titmus on a turner. Seeing off Cartwright on a green one.Oh for those journeys again. But the gems on the field of play were even better.
Batting with him at Tunbridge Wells against Essex, I have just played and missed four balls from Robin Hobbs. Colin wanders down the wicket at the end of the over, and I wait to be admonished. Not so. His words echo in my ear to this day: Perhaps you ought to try to hit him over extra cover.I was struggling to hit him at all, But I knew that words from the Master were sound words.
First ball next over, Robin Hobbs went over extra-cover for four. Relief and ecstasy, but what next? As if by magic, Colin was next to me: Don"t worry, he said. The game will be different now. As sure as eggs are eggs, Robin bowled the next ball down leg-side and I swept; next I faced a short ball to cut, then a full toss. How sweet is confidence allied to nerve.
To Nottingham, to face the great Sir Garfield Sobers. Left arm over. I play and miss, surviving more by luck than judgement. The ball seems to be on the end of a piece of string, a nightmare to hit. At the other end, colin is cruising, on 70, unable to miss the ball, his bat as broad as a barnyard door. Mine like a toothpick. Again he approaches. Try this, he says. Open your stance and hit him back towards the stumps. No sooner said than done.
I got a 70 too, and played Sobers better and better.
Batting with him was fun. Australia at Canterbury: Ian Chappell has ordered the coach for tea-time. Kent need 354 to win. Cowdrey gets 151 not out, Woolmer 71 not out, and Kent win-a little after tea. But what an innings. He would come down the wicket and say.; Good bowler this Mallet. Where can we get five off the over? We need one risk, and then a single or two twos past cover, and then one round the corner. I watched a man in his pomp simply destroy an attack containing some of the best bowlers of the era, including Dennis Lillee, who he hooked ruthlessly. Yet sometimes he got stuck. For some reason his timing would disappear, and he would be unable to move the scoreboard along. Or so they say. I never saw it myself.
Some people will say that he was not tough enough as a captain; too confused with theory, and eccentric. Thank God - who now has the benefit of his services - that I was never able to see those qualities, I was able only to see his generosity, his love for the game, his superb artistry and his wonderful ability. I am forever indebted to the Cowdrey school of cricket wisdom, which draws on Bradman, Hobbs, Hutton, and many others. It was, and is, a wonderful gift, from a great man
Steven Lynch
Cricket secretary at Lord"s in the 1970"s
THERE WAS A steel backbone underneath Cowdrey"s well-padded, well-rounded exterior. You don"t play 114 Tests and score all those runs (7624 of them) without one. It protruded at Edgbaston in 1957 when, at Cowdrey"s suggestion, Sonny Ramadhin was padded away repeatedly. Cowdrey and Peter May put on 411, and Ramadhin was finished as a Test force. It pushed through the velvet corset again when Cowdrey, just installed as MCC"s president for their bicentenary year in 1987, risked clouding the celebrations by ousting the secretary, Jack Bailey, whom he perceived as a stumbling-block to better relations with the TCCB. The story goes that at his first committee meeting in the chair, Cowdrey asked the secretary to leave the room. Such a thing had never happened before, and Bailey couldn"t quite believe his ears. After he had reluctantly gone outside, Cowdrey told the rest of the committee that Bailey had to go permanently. David Clark, MCC"s treasurer (and ironically long-time Kentish friend of Cowdrey"s) resigned in protest.
That battle may have started off Cowdrey"s health worries. He had to undergo a serious heart bypass operation, and missed the showpiece World XI match that crowned MCC"s bicentenary year. He made a good recovery, but was never quite the same again.
He was guilty of trying to keep too many people happy
Ray Illingworth
Ray Illingworth
Succeeded him as England captain
THE BEST EXAMPLE I know of Colin Cowdrey"s self-doubt is when Garry Sobers declared in the fourth Test as Port-of-Spain in 1967-68, leaving England 215 to win in 165 minutes. He did not want to risk going for it, and only changed his mind when Ken Barrington and Tom Graveney told him he would never get another chance like it on the tour. He was indecisive, asking a number of people in the dressing room for advice. But six opinions are no use because they are bound to vary.
You would not hear too many good words said about Colin by bowlers like Ken Higgs and Len Caldwell. The trouble was that he would tell them they were playing and then not tell when they had not been picked. He was guilty of trying to keep too many people happy. As a batsman, Colin was one of the best of his generation. He and Peter May were players of equal caliber, but their attitude in the middle was a different as chalk and cheese. If a bowler was sending down poor stuff, Peter would destroy him. Colin would fail to dominate and let off the hook.
I got the England captaincy because he was injured. Even so, I can see that it must have been a difficult decision for the selectors with him being so much part of the establishment. But I do this I was the better captain.
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