Right Said Fred

Many thanks to Adelaide for this excellent review of Fred Titmus's book "My Life In Cricket". In these credit crunch times, a book that can be found in the pound shop for a quid might be just the tonic some Midddlesex Till We Die (MTWD) readers need to help them through the remainder of the winter.

Fred Titmus – My Life in Cricket

This is a long way sort of being the greatest cricket book ever written, which probably explains why I found it in Poundland (or perhaps that should be 98pland since the VAT changes).  A bargain at that price, but definitely not one for which to shell out £17.99. 

Published in 2005, it is also credited (inside) to a certain Stafford Hildred, with books on Roy Keane and David Beckham on his CV. The genesis of the book is described by the co-author in an Introduction.  Picture this – you are looking for an apartment in Majorca and the estate agent mentions that one apartment has already been sold to an Englishman called Titmus, who used to play cricket.  Of course you then have to buy the apartment, even if the rest of the block is, er, under German occupation.  Fred Titmus was a hero, a childhood inspiration, for the co-author.  Curious then that the last time he had seen Fred play was in 1964, but never mind. 

The book arose from listening to Fred talking about his cricketing days over the next couple of years.  This goes a long way to explaining its bitty nature, enhanced (subsequently or by a cricketer’s  perfect statistical recall?) by lots of performance statistics. 

We get a good deal of Middlesex in the early to mid fifties, before my time and largely new to me.  I had no idea, for example, that he used to bowl seamers before settling down to decades of off spin, nor that it was his batting that first drew attention.  The “for F J Titmus, read Titmus, F J” anecdote is there, as it has to be. 

There is rather less on Middlesex from the sixties onwards, but a lot more on England, which is fair enough, but it left me, as MTWD, rather unsatisfied.  I grew up watching the team of that period (OK, via newspaper initially – fascination with cricket averages was the first evidence that I was going to become a statistician). 

It seemed to be full of high quality players – Parfitt, Murray, Russell, Titmus, Price, Moss and so on, and plenty of all rounders to boot – but never really got close to winning anything.  Why not?  Was the amateur ethos more in charge in Middlesex than elsewhere?  Perhaps the players weren’t quite as good as I thought, as few got extended runs in the England team. 

But back to the book.  Fred describes his acquisition of the captaincy in 1965, following Colin Drybrough’s departure because of ‘business commitments’ (Fred’s quotes).  He says he found Colin a very nice chap but, as a captain, he thought he was a joke.  Anyway, halfway through the season, Middlesex are top of the table but fell away to what seemed to be a favourite final position of sixth.  No real success followed. 

My impression as a spectator was that he was too quiet to be a great skipper, but then again, when Peter Parfitt took over, things did not get much better.  And if I recall correctly Fred did win Man of the match once purely for his captaincy! A rather curious paragraph in this chapter claims that Mike Selvey arrived from Surrey during Fred’captaincy (what?  In 1972?) and notes that you could see early on that the young Mike Gatting was a good player.   It would have had to be really early on to have been visible during Fred’s captaincy.  Dodgy editing here, perhaps, Mr Hildred? 

Memory can play tricks on the best of us, of course.  I was well aware that Fred nearly took all ten in one innings.  Fred reports that Bob Gale took the last one, but omits what I remember  being reported at the time, which is that Bob was put on to protect his wallet, having promised Fred a crate of champagne when he’d taken the first five if he snared the lot.   But it came as a major surprise to me to find that it was against Cambridge University; I had ‘remembered’ it as a Championship match. 

The motor boat accident in Barbados gets a few pages, of course.  New to me, as the identity of the driver of the motor boat was kept quiet at the time, but Fred reports that it was Penny Cowdrey!  Also that he was awarded compensation of less than £25 per toe. 

Mike Brearley gets very short shrift, and the Brearley era as a whole gets little attention, even that first Championship season, memorably sealed at The Oval by (I think) Clive Radley thick edging down to third man.  This is a great pity, as the transformation of Middlesex into one of the great teams was quite remarkable, and Fred was part of this.   

The implication in this book is that Brearley was impatient with the old guard, and that some of them, such as Peter Parfitt, went too early as a result.  Indeed there is a rather sad story (as told by Fred) of his seeking to renegotiate his contract in order to coach in South Africa, with Brearley’s response being couched in terms of “fading drive and ambition”.   

Of course we only have one side of the story here, but it is clear they did not get on well.  Fred saw him as haughty and taking things back to the old days of amateurs in charge, somewhat ironic given the highly professional outfit that Middlesex became.  Somehow our hero has never found the time to read “The Art of Captaincy”.  Well, I haven’t either, but I am not a cricketer! 

Ah yes, South Africa.  There are two aspects of this book that read oddly in these times, and the passages about South Africa provide one of them.  Like many British cricketers, Fred played and coached in South Africa.  He does note some friction … between the English and the Afrikaaners!   Nothing about the D’Oliveira affair and the other, rather more serious, racial problems.  I prefer to think of this as a consequence of the form of the book – reminiscences rather than an attempt to tell a coherent story, let alone justify anything (as, for example, Graham Gooch attempts to do in his autobiography).  And views were different then.  But even so… 

The other relates to Fred winning a car in a prize draw as part of Jack Robertson’s second benefit season (yes, must have been the one when I saw my first cricket match at Winchmore Hill).  I quote:- “At the time I couldn’t drive and during home matches, I was in danger of getting a reputation for being slightly unsociable as I used to cycle or catch the bus home to Enfield rather than staying for a drink with the boys.  The car was a great help in getting me around and I found I was able to stay around and often enjoy the genial company in the Star at St John’s Wood after the day’s play at Lord’s.” 

Wow – these days we get close to banning “In the Summertime” for its drink driving references. Different times, eh? 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/My-Life-Cricket-Fred-Titmus/dp/184454124X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1232880529&sr=1-1