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The Name Game.
- Thread starter yaju
- Start date
The Baconator
International Vice-Captain
Wasim Jaffer
Langeveldt
Soutie
Jehan Mubarak
Ian Chappell (Australia)Wisden Cricketer of the Year 1976
Australian Cricket Hall of Fame 2003
Wisden Overview
Ian Chappell fashioned an Australian team in his own image between 1971 and 1975: aggressive, resourceful and insouciant. A dauntless batsman partial to the hook and pull, he inherited the post of captain from Bill Lawry with the team at a low ebb, but others fed off his unhesitating self-belief and conviction that team goals were paramount, and he never lost a series. Some of his personal bests as a batsman, meanwhile, were in partnership with his brother Greg, notably at The Oval in August 1972, and at Wellington in March 1974. English commentator John Arlott described him as "a cricketer of effect rather than the graces", and his part in the World Series Cricket schism arose after years of disaffection with cricket officialdom. He later became a trenchant TV commentator. Gideon Haigh
TESTS
(career)
M I NO Runs HS Ave 100 50 Ct St
Batting & Fielding 75 136 10 5345 196 42.42 14 26 105 0
Balls M R W Ave BBI 5 10 SR Econ
Bowling 2873 87 1316 20 65.80 2-21 0 0 143.6 2.74
ONE-DAY INTERNATIONALS
(career)
M I NO Runs HS Ave SR 100 50 Ct St
Batting & Fielding 16 16 2 673 86 48.07 77.00 0 8 5 0
O M R W Ave BBI 4w 5w SR Econ
Bowling 7 1 23 2 11.50 2-14 0 0 21.0 3.28
Australian Cricket Hall of Fame 2003
Wisden Overview
Ian Chappell fashioned an Australian team in his own image between 1971 and 1975: aggressive, resourceful and insouciant. A dauntless batsman partial to the hook and pull, he inherited the post of captain from Bill Lawry with the team at a low ebb, but others fed off his unhesitating self-belief and conviction that team goals were paramount, and he never lost a series. Some of his personal bests as a batsman, meanwhile, were in partnership with his brother Greg, notably at The Oval in August 1972, and at Wellington in March 1974. English commentator John Arlott described him as "a cricketer of effect rather than the graces", and his part in the World Series Cricket schism arose after years of disaffection with cricket officialdom. He later became a trenchant TV commentator. Gideon Haigh
TESTS
(career)
M I NO Runs HS Ave 100 50 Ct St
Batting & Fielding 75 136 10 5345 196 42.42 14 26 105 0
Balls M R W Ave BBI 5 10 SR Econ
Bowling 2873 87 1316 20 65.80 2-21 0 0 143.6 2.74
ONE-DAY INTERNATIONALS
(career)
M I NO Runs HS Ave SR 100 50 Ct St
Batting & Fielding 16 16 2 673 86 48.07 77.00 0 8 5 0
O M R W Ave BBI 4w 5w SR Econ
Bowling 7 1 23 2 11.50 2-14 0 0 21.0 3.28
Attachments
Last edited:
SJS
Hall of Fame Member
Salim Durranishaka said:
Profile:
An unpredictable genius, Salim Durrani was on his day a match winner either with the bat or the ball. He was one of the few cricketers who could turn the course of a match either by a few lusty blows or by a couple of wickets in one over. To the stodgy, fairly predictable image of the Indian cricketer, Durrani by his dash and vigorous play, injected an element of excitement into the game. An aggressive left handed batsman, who could demolish the best of bowlers and who acquired the reputation of hitting sixes on demand, Durrani in full flow was a joy to watch. But it was as a bowler that he first made his mark in Indian cricket. He ambled in to bowl with a lazy action but the best of his deliveries beggared description. For Durrani, having delivered the ball from his great height could make the ball lift and turn.
Durrani bowled India to victory over England in 1961-62, successively picking up eight and ten wickets in the country's triumphs at Calcutta and Madras. Almost ten years later he helped shaped another notable victory - this time over West Indies at Port of Spain - by dismissing Clive Lloyd and Gary Sobers, the latter for a duck. His only century in Tests was against West Indies in 1962. Durrani had a special rapport with the spectators, who once agitated, when he was inexplicably dropped for the Kanpur Test in 1973, with placards and slogans like ``No Durrani, no Test''. A tall, handsome figure, Durrani had movie star looks and in fact appeared in a film with Parveen Babi in the early 70s.
Maharajah of Vizianagram (Commonly known as 'Vizzy') India
This from the Cricinfo Player Page -
Profile:
Better known as `Vizzy', the Maharajah of Vizianagram takes his place as one of the most colourful and controversial characters in the history of Indian cricket. A great patron of the game in the late twenties and thirties, `Vizzy' used his personal wealth to get legendary cricketers like Jack Hobbs and Herbert Sutcliffe to play in India.
His immense wealth and interest in the game saw him rise to be an influential figure in Indian cricket circles in the thirties, enough for him to be appointed captain of the Indian team which toured England in 1936, though `Vizzy', truth to tell, was not even at the first class level as a player.
He failed in all the Tests, and the tour was one of the unhappiest by an Indian team anywhere. The team was badly divided, the lack of team spirit showed on the field and in events off it and `Vizzy' clearly overplayed his hand in sending back Lala Amarnath, the team's outstanding all rounder back to India on disciplinary grounds.
During the tour however he received his knighthood. A rather small, bespectacled and plumpish figure, `Vizzy' was the favourite of caricaturists.
Not unexpectedly, the enquiry instituted to go into the disastrous tour came down heavily on `Vizzy' and for a long time he maintained a low profile. In the fifties, however he was back on the scene as a politician, broadcaster, BCCI president and long time administrator of the game in Uttar Pradesh. It was largely because of his influence that Kanpur was made a Test centre.(Partab Ramchand)
This from the Cricinfo Player Page -
Profile:
Better known as `Vizzy', the Maharajah of Vizianagram takes his place as one of the most colourful and controversial characters in the history of Indian cricket. A great patron of the game in the late twenties and thirties, `Vizzy' used his personal wealth to get legendary cricketers like Jack Hobbs and Herbert Sutcliffe to play in India.
His immense wealth and interest in the game saw him rise to be an influential figure in Indian cricket circles in the thirties, enough for him to be appointed captain of the Indian team which toured England in 1936, though `Vizzy', truth to tell, was not even at the first class level as a player.
He failed in all the Tests, and the tour was one of the unhappiest by an Indian team anywhere. The team was badly divided, the lack of team spirit showed on the field and in events off it and `Vizzy' clearly overplayed his hand in sending back Lala Amarnath, the team's outstanding all rounder back to India on disciplinary grounds.
During the tour however he received his knighthood. A rather small, bespectacled and plumpish figure, `Vizzy' was the favourite of caricaturists.
Not unexpectedly, the enquiry instituted to go into the disastrous tour came down heavily on `Vizzy' and for a long time he maintained a low profile. In the fifties, however he was back on the scene as a politician, broadcaster, BCCI president and long time administrator of the game in Uttar Pradesh. It was largely because of his influence that Kanpur was made a Test centre.(Partab Ramchand)
Last edited:
Ray(mond Russell) Lindwall (Australia) Wisden Cricketer of the Year 1949
Born: 3 October 1921, Mascot, Sydney, New South Wales
Died: 23 June 1996, Greenslopes, Brisbane, Queensland
This from Cricinfo Player Page -
Profile:A protégé of Bill O'Reilly's at Sydney's famous St George club, Ray Lindwall renounced rugby for cricket after the Second World War, and was for a decade uncontested as Australia's new-ball bowler, a master in all conditions. Ashes opponent John Warr held that "if one were granted one last wish in cricket, it would be the sight of Ray Lindwall opening the bowling in a Test match". His powerful, rhythmic approach, unwavering control and late swing brought a hush to arenas all over the world: when he yorked Len Hutton with the second ball of the Headingley Test of July 1953, it was received with the solemnity of a declaration of war. Like his longtime bowling partner Keith Miller, Lindwall could also bat with spirit and adventure: his Test century at Melbourne in January 1947 was the second-fastest by an Australian. His autobiography, Flying Stumps, is a book of rare charm.
Gideon Haigh
Wisden obituary
Raymond Russell Lindwall MBE died on June 23, 1996, aged 74. Ray Lindwall was undeniably one of the great fast bowlers, arguably the greatest of all the Australian practitioners, and perhaps the man who established fast bowling’s role in the modern game. In the 1930s the game had been dominated by batsmen, with the brief, unacceptable, interlude of Bodyline. Lindwall began a new era in which bat and ball were more evenly matched, when the bouncer (or bumper as it was then called) was an accepted weapon, provided it was not overused. He bowled the bumper sparingly but brilliantly, and the mere possibility of it made batsmen uneasy. He thus paved the way for all the other great fast bowlers of the post-war era, from Trueman to Ambrose. But in fact more than two-fifths of Lindwall’s 228 Test victims were bowled.
Ray was a Sydney boy and watched Larwood during the Bodyline series. He played with other kids on patches of green and in the streets, choosing – it is said – the street down which the great leg-spinner Bill O’Reilly walked home in the hope of catching his eye. He was also a promising batsman, scoring a double-century and a century in different junior matches on the same day. At the St George club, he came under the wing of O’Reilly, who used the novel technique of photography to help the lad correct his faults. But Lindwall was a smart learner and dedicated to practice; during the war, when he was in the South Pacific and suffered horribly from tropical diseases, he marked out his run-up between the palm trees and got his bowling into a beautiful groove. Halfway through the home 1946–47 series against England, he and Keith Miller emerged as the undisputed leaders of Australia’s attack; on top of that Lindwall actually beat Miller to a Test century, scoring 100 at the MCG in the New Year Test of 1947, batting at No. 9. At Sydney two months later, Lindwall took seven for 63 and, after getting seven for 38 against India in 1947–48, came to England in 1948 an established star.
On that tour, he rose to even greater fame as the leader of the attack in Australia’s 4–0 triumph. And though Bradman used him carefully, his very presence dictated the terms. Lindwall was injured during the First Test, but in three of the subsequent four he was devastating, reaching his peak at the Oval when he took six for 20 as England were bowled out for 52. He had a clever slower ball (which would have stood him in good stead in modern one-day cricket) and, though his arm was too low to satisfy the sternest purists, he was close to being the complete fast bowler. The low arm meant his bowling had a skidding effect, which made the bouncers all the more fearsome. Sir Pelham Warner once exclaimed Poetry! and Lindwall, watching himself on film, discovered that all the effort and pain failed to transmit itself to anyone else. I don’t look tired, he murmured with surprise.
Lindwall never quite reached such a peak after 1948, but he played Test cricket for more than another decade. Jack Fingleton said Lindwall never liked bowling much, and always preferred batting, but he was opening Australia’s attack as late as January 1960, when he was 38, and played the last of his 61 Tests a few weeks later. Lindwall simply would not go away. Inevitably, his shock effect had declined by then but, like his eventual heir Dennis Lillee, he compensated by his canniness, mastery of technique – he began to use the in-swinger far more – and utter determination. He captained Australia once and, for several seasons, Queensland, having moved from New South Wales, before finishing with 228 Test wickets at 23.03 and 794 first-class wickets at 21.35.
He was a much liked man but not a flamboyant character like Miller. Cardus rated Lindwall alongside Ted McDonald as the most hostile and artistic fast bowlers I have ever seen– but preferred to write about Miller, who was better copy. Lindwall was a quieter man, whose strongest adjective was his own concoction, blooing. He was a phenomenal all-round sportsman: had he not played cricket, Lindwall could easily have been a rugby league international, and he ran 100 yards in 10.6 seconds. But when he retired he ran a flower shop with his wife in the centre of Brisbane. If anyone in Australia ever imagined floristry was unmanly, his presence in the shop provided an answer, though he concentrated on the figures, and his assistant claimed he could not tell a rose from a dandelion.
While still playing for New South Wales, he once saw the young Alan Davidson bowl a bouncer at an opposing No. 8. You’ve just insulted all fast bowlers, Lindwall told him. You’ve admitted No. 8 can bat better than you can bowl. Get into the nets and learn how to bowl. And he took him there, and taught him.
Wisden Cricketers' Almanack
Born: 3 October 1921, Mascot, Sydney, New South Wales
Died: 23 June 1996, Greenslopes, Brisbane, Queensland
This from Cricinfo Player Page -
Profile:A protégé of Bill O'Reilly's at Sydney's famous St George club, Ray Lindwall renounced rugby for cricket after the Second World War, and was for a decade uncontested as Australia's new-ball bowler, a master in all conditions. Ashes opponent John Warr held that "if one were granted one last wish in cricket, it would be the sight of Ray Lindwall opening the bowling in a Test match". His powerful, rhythmic approach, unwavering control and late swing brought a hush to arenas all over the world: when he yorked Len Hutton with the second ball of the Headingley Test of July 1953, it was received with the solemnity of a declaration of war. Like his longtime bowling partner Keith Miller, Lindwall could also bat with spirit and adventure: his Test century at Melbourne in January 1947 was the second-fastest by an Australian. His autobiography, Flying Stumps, is a book of rare charm.
Gideon Haigh
Wisden obituary
Raymond Russell Lindwall MBE died on June 23, 1996, aged 74. Ray Lindwall was undeniably one of the great fast bowlers, arguably the greatest of all the Australian practitioners, and perhaps the man who established fast bowling’s role in the modern game. In the 1930s the game had been dominated by batsmen, with the brief, unacceptable, interlude of Bodyline. Lindwall began a new era in which bat and ball were more evenly matched, when the bouncer (or bumper as it was then called) was an accepted weapon, provided it was not overused. He bowled the bumper sparingly but brilliantly, and the mere possibility of it made batsmen uneasy. He thus paved the way for all the other great fast bowlers of the post-war era, from Trueman to Ambrose. But in fact more than two-fifths of Lindwall’s 228 Test victims were bowled.
Ray was a Sydney boy and watched Larwood during the Bodyline series. He played with other kids on patches of green and in the streets, choosing – it is said – the street down which the great leg-spinner Bill O’Reilly walked home in the hope of catching his eye. He was also a promising batsman, scoring a double-century and a century in different junior matches on the same day. At the St George club, he came under the wing of O’Reilly, who used the novel technique of photography to help the lad correct his faults. But Lindwall was a smart learner and dedicated to practice; during the war, when he was in the South Pacific and suffered horribly from tropical diseases, he marked out his run-up between the palm trees and got his bowling into a beautiful groove. Halfway through the home 1946–47 series against England, he and Keith Miller emerged as the undisputed leaders of Australia’s attack; on top of that Lindwall actually beat Miller to a Test century, scoring 100 at the MCG in the New Year Test of 1947, batting at No. 9. At Sydney two months later, Lindwall took seven for 63 and, after getting seven for 38 against India in 1947–48, came to England in 1948 an established star.
On that tour, he rose to even greater fame as the leader of the attack in Australia’s 4–0 triumph. And though Bradman used him carefully, his very presence dictated the terms. Lindwall was injured during the First Test, but in three of the subsequent four he was devastating, reaching his peak at the Oval when he took six for 20 as England were bowled out for 52. He had a clever slower ball (which would have stood him in good stead in modern one-day cricket) and, though his arm was too low to satisfy the sternest purists, he was close to being the complete fast bowler. The low arm meant his bowling had a skidding effect, which made the bouncers all the more fearsome. Sir Pelham Warner once exclaimed Poetry! and Lindwall, watching himself on film, discovered that all the effort and pain failed to transmit itself to anyone else. I don’t look tired, he murmured with surprise.
Lindwall never quite reached such a peak after 1948, but he played Test cricket for more than another decade. Jack Fingleton said Lindwall never liked bowling much, and always preferred batting, but he was opening Australia’s attack as late as January 1960, when he was 38, and played the last of his 61 Tests a few weeks later. Lindwall simply would not go away. Inevitably, his shock effect had declined by then but, like his eventual heir Dennis Lillee, he compensated by his canniness, mastery of technique – he began to use the in-swinger far more – and utter determination. He captained Australia once and, for several seasons, Queensland, having moved from New South Wales, before finishing with 228 Test wickets at 23.03 and 794 first-class wickets at 21.35.
He was a much liked man but not a flamboyant character like Miller. Cardus rated Lindwall alongside Ted McDonald as the most hostile and artistic fast bowlers I have ever seen– but preferred to write about Miller, who was better copy. Lindwall was a quieter man, whose strongest adjective was his own concoction, blooing. He was a phenomenal all-round sportsman: had he not played cricket, Lindwall could easily have been a rugby league international, and he ran 100 yards in 10.6 seconds. But when he retired he ran a flower shop with his wife in the centre of Brisbane. If anyone in Australia ever imagined floristry was unmanly, his presence in the shop provided an answer, though he concentrated on the figures, and his assistant claimed he could not tell a rose from a dandelion.
While still playing for New South Wales, he once saw the young Alan Davidson bowl a bouncer at an opposing No. 8. You’ve just insulted all fast bowlers, Lindwall told him. You’ve admitted No. 8 can bat better than you can bowl.
Get into the nets and learn how to bowl. And he took him there, and taught him. Wisden Cricketers' Almanack
Attachments
Last edited:
The Baconator
International Vice-Captain
wes hall
The ideal fast bowler, a muscular 6ft 2ins with a classical action and a good temper, Wes Hall was a fearsome prospect, especially in partnership with Charlie Griffith. Possessing a long, athletic approach, with eyes bulging, teeth glinting, and a crucifix swinging across his chest, Hall was an aesthetic joy to the spectator, but an intimidating sight to a waiting batsman. He bowled as though he meant to take a wicket with every delivery; his speed was measured as 91mph, and he was consistently fast and hostile. Curiously enough, he was a batsman-wicketkeeper in his early days, and when he first toured England in 1957, with moderate results, he had not taken a single first-class wicket beforehand. Success did not come quickly, and it was only as a very late replacement that he toured India and Pakistan in 1958-59. He took 46 wickets in eight Tests, and did not look back. In the great tied match, the first Test at Brisbane in 1960-61, he took 9 for 203. With his shirt hanging out, he bowled the last over when six runs were needed for victory with three wickets left. He took one wicket, dropped a catch, and there were two run-outs. He was again at the centre of high drama at Lord’s in 1963. He brought West Indies back into the game by bowling unchanged for 3½ hours, taking 4 for 93. Unintentionally he had further hurt England’s chances of winning by breaking Colin Cowdrey’s forearm. A popular man wherever he played, Hall had several seasons for Queensland in the Sheffield Shield, and later became a politician and then an ordained minister. For many years he was a senator in the Barbados parliament, and he has frequently managed West Indies teams abroad with passion and wisdom
The ideal fast bowler, a muscular 6ft 2ins with a classical action and a good temper, Wes Hall was a fearsome prospect, especially in partnership with Charlie Griffith. Possessing a long, athletic approach, with eyes bulging, teeth glinting, and a crucifix swinging across his chest, Hall was an aesthetic joy to the spectator, but an intimidating sight to a waiting batsman. He bowled as though he meant to take a wicket with every delivery; his speed was measured as 91mph, and he was consistently fast and hostile. Curiously enough, he was a batsman-wicketkeeper in his early days, and when he first toured England in 1957, with moderate results, he had not taken a single first-class wicket beforehand. Success did not come quickly, and it was only as a very late replacement that he toured India and Pakistan in 1958-59. He took 46 wickets in eight Tests, and did not look back. In the great tied match, the first Test at Brisbane in 1960-61, he took 9 for 203. With his shirt hanging out, he bowled the last over when six runs were needed for victory with three wickets left. He took one wicket, dropped a catch, and there were two run-outs. He was again at the centre of high drama at Lord’s in 1963. He brought West Indies back into the game by bowling unchanged for 3½ hours, taking 4 for 93. Unintentionally he had further hurt England’s chances of winning by breaking Colin Cowdrey’s forearm. A popular man wherever he played, Hall had several seasons for Queensland in the Sheffield Shield, and later became a politician and then an ordained minister. For many years he was a senator in the Barbados parliament, and he has frequently managed West Indies teams abroad with passion and wisdom
Martin Donnelly (New Zealand) Wisden Cricketer of the Year 1948
Profile:
Wisden obituary
Martin Paterson Donnelly, who died on October 22, 1999, aged 82, left an indelible impression on cricket despite the brevity of his career. As a New Zealander at Oxford, he entranced cricket-followers in the immediate post-war years in a manner surpassed only by Compton. He proved that reality matched appearance with a magnificent double-century against England in the Lord’s Test of 1949. C. B. Fry said he was as good a left-hander as any he had seen, including Clem Hill and Frank Woolley. Then Donnelly retired and became a businessman in Sydney.
For New Zealanders, his career was even more tantalising, since he played only 13 of his 131 first-class games in the country. None the less, he did enough in his seven Tests to raise the country’s cricketing profile, and establish himself among the country’s best-remembered sporting heroes. when he was elevated to the New Zealand Sports Hall of Fame in 1990, the citation read: They said he had everything as a Test batsman: style and grace; confidence and determination; success and modesty. The words they said encapsulate the sense of loss that surrounded Donnelly, despite his long life. His cricket was a victim of the war, the lowly cricketing status of his country at the time, and the game’s financial circumstances.
Donnelly was born in 1917 to a country family in Waikato, one of twin brothers; his twin died in the flu epidemic the following year. Martin’s sporting talent emerged quickly, though he was never tall – not much bigger than a lemonade bottle, said one contemporary – and was known to his team-mates as Squib. In 1933, he got a letter from Bradman, organised by his Uncle Vic, looking forward to the young man taking his place amongst his country’s champions. It happened very rapidly.
After just one first-class match for Wellington, in which he scored 22 and 38, Donnelly was selected, aged 19, for the 1937 tour of England. The selectors were impressed by his style and, above all, by his outfielding. They kept faith and picked him for the First Test at Lord’s even though he came into the match with two successive ducks. He got a duck again, but that was no worse than Len Hutton, who was also making his debut. In the second innings, he came in at No. 9 and helped save the game in idiosyncratic fashion, which included a certain amount of hooking. As the series developed, his qualities shone through: he stood alone as New Zealand collapsed to defeat at Old Trafford, and scored fifty in barely an hour at The Oval. He had already scored 144 there against Surrey. Wisden praised his batting style and his coolness.
Though he played some cricket at home over the next few seasons, there were no major opportunities. Donnelly volunteered for military service, and in 1942 embarked for Egypt, where he was a tank commander, and star of the show at the Gezira Sporting Club. In some Cairo bazaar he picked up the multicoloured cap that he used as a lucky mascot. The war took him to Italy, and – evidently with a little help from the sympathetic New Zealand commander, General Freyburg – to England in time for the moment when the public was ready for cricket again. He scored magnificent hundreds in exhibition matches at Edgbaston and Scarborough in 1945, but topped them both in the match Denzil Batchelor called the perfect game, when the Dominions beat England at Lord’s with eight minutes to spare. Donnelly hit 133 in three hours. You sat and rejoiced, wrote Batchelor, hugging your memories to your heart and gradually letting the dazzle fade out of your eyes.
That autumn, Donnelly went up to Oxford to read history, and became a Dark Blue institution. His graceful batting was regarded by a generation of undergraduates as the best free show in town; as soon as the word went round that he was in, they would flock to watch. In 1946, he scored six centuries, including 142 against Cambridge. As captain 1947, he averaged 67; though he missed his century in the University Match, he scored 162 for the Gentlemen, which included 50 in 40 minutes. It was the climax to a delightful display, said Wisden, his punishment of any ball not a perfect length being severe and certain; he excelled with off-drives; hooked or cut anything short. This ensured his selection as a Cricketer of the Year, the article casually describing him as the world’s best left-hander. By then, he had played fly-half for an all-conquering Oxford rugby team and, less successfully, centre for England at Lansdowne Road on a bitterly cold day when Ireland scored what was then their biggest win over them.
But Donnelly’s thoughts were already turning to the future. He got a job with Courtaulds, who were sympathetic enough to let him play half the matches for Warwickshire in 1948– without his customary success – and to join the 1949 New Zealand tour. Together with another left-hander, Bert Sutcliffe, he taught the English public and cricket establishment to understand that here was a country of growing sporting significance, which should never again be palmed off with three-day Tests. All four games were drawn and Donnelly failed only in the last. He made 64 at Headingley, and 75 and 80 at Old Trafford. Sandwiched in between was his epic at Lord’s, when he scored what remains the only double-century for New Zealand against England: 206 in just under six hours. But his career was almost over. In 1950, he married; that year he played just four matches for Warwickshire, captaining them against Yorkshire when he scored his only century in county cricket: Wisden almost drooled: glorious… artistic…perfect timing. Then it was over. He sailed for Sydney in the autumn to become the sales and marketing manager of Courtaulds Australia. His cricket thereafter was minimal. Though he played in a first-class match as late as 1961, for the New Zealand Governor-General’s XI against MCC, he spent far more time fly-fishing. He had certain similarities with Bradman, wrote Alan Gibson in 1964, the build, the hawk-eye, the forcing stroke square of the wicket on the leg side, the determination to establish a psychological supremacy over the bowler as soon as possible. But Donnelly did not share Bradman’s passion never to get out. As with his batting, so with his career. As Frank Keating put it: It was as if all his own cricket had been a student pastime, a youthful wheeze not worth mentioning any more.
Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack
Profile:
Wisden obituary
Martin Paterson Donnelly, who died on October 22, 1999, aged 82, left an indelible impression on cricket despite the brevity of his career. As a New Zealander at Oxford, he entranced cricket-followers in the immediate post-war years in a manner surpassed only by Compton. He proved that reality matched appearance with a magnificent double-century against England in the Lord’s Test of 1949. C. B. Fry said he was as good a left-hander as any he had seen, including Clem Hill and Frank Woolley. Then Donnelly retired and became a businessman in Sydney.
For New Zealanders, his career was even more tantalising, since he played only 13 of his 131 first-class games in the country. None the less, he did enough in his seven Tests to raise the country’s cricketing profile, and establish himself among the country’s best-remembered sporting heroes. when he was elevated to the New Zealand Sports Hall of Fame in 1990, the citation read: They said he had everything as a Test batsman: style and grace; confidence and determination; success and modesty. The words they said encapsulate the sense of loss that surrounded Donnelly, despite his long life. His cricket was a victim of the war, the lowly cricketing status of his country at the time, and the game’s financial circumstances.
Donnelly was born in 1917 to a country family in Waikato, one of twin brothers; his twin died in the flu epidemic the following year. Martin’s sporting talent emerged quickly, though he was never tall – not much bigger than a lemonade bottle, said one contemporary – and was known to his team-mates as Squib. In 1933, he got a letter from Bradman, organised by his Uncle Vic, looking forward to the young man taking his place amongst his country’s champions. It happened very rapidly.
After just one first-class match for Wellington, in which he scored 22 and 38, Donnelly was selected, aged 19, for the 1937 tour of England. The selectors were impressed by his style and, above all, by his outfielding. They kept faith and picked him for the First Test at Lord’s even though he came into the match with two successive ducks. He got a duck again, but that was no worse than Len Hutton, who was also making his debut. In the second innings, he came in at No. 9 and helped save the game in idiosyncratic fashion, which included a certain amount of hooking. As the series developed, his qualities shone through: he stood alone as New Zealand collapsed to defeat at Old Trafford, and scored fifty in barely an hour at The Oval. He had already scored 144 there against Surrey. Wisden praised his batting style and his coolness.
Though he played some cricket at home over the next few seasons, there were no major opportunities. Donnelly volunteered for military service, and in 1942 embarked for Egypt, where he was a tank commander, and star of the show at the Gezira Sporting Club. In some Cairo bazaar he picked up the multicoloured cap that he used as a lucky mascot. The war took him to Italy, and – evidently with a little help from the sympathetic New Zealand commander, General Freyburg – to England in time for the moment when the public was ready for cricket again. He scored magnificent hundreds in exhibition matches at Edgbaston and Scarborough in 1945, but topped them both in the match Denzil Batchelor called the perfect game, when the Dominions beat England at Lord’s with eight minutes to spare. Donnelly hit 133 in three hours. You sat and rejoiced, wrote Batchelor, hugging your memories to your heart and gradually letting the dazzle fade out of your eyes.
That autumn, Donnelly went up to Oxford to read history, and became a Dark Blue institution. His graceful batting was regarded by a generation of undergraduates as the best free show in town; as soon as the word went round that he was in, they would flock to watch. In 1946, he scored six centuries, including 142 against Cambridge. As captain 1947, he averaged 67; though he missed his century in the University Match, he scored 162 for the Gentlemen, which included 50 in 40 minutes. It was the climax to a delightful display, said Wisden, his punishment of any ball not a perfect length being severe and certain; he excelled with off-drives; hooked or cut anything short. This ensured his selection as a Cricketer of the Year, the article casually describing him as the world’s best left-hander. By then, he had played fly-half for an all-conquering Oxford rugby team and, less successfully, centre for England at Lansdowne Road on a bitterly cold day when Ireland scored what was then their biggest win over them.
But Donnelly’s thoughts were already turning to the future. He got a job with Courtaulds, who were sympathetic enough to let him play half the matches for Warwickshire in 1948– without his customary success – and to join the 1949 New Zealand tour. Together with another left-hander, Bert Sutcliffe, he taught the English public and cricket establishment to understand that here was a country of growing sporting significance, which should never again be palmed off with three-day Tests. All four games were drawn and Donnelly failed only in the last. He made 64 at Headingley, and 75 and 80 at Old Trafford. Sandwiched in between was his epic at Lord’s, when he scored what remains the only double-century for New Zealand against England: 206 in just under six hours. But his career was almost over. In 1950, he married; that year he played just four matches for Warwickshire, captaining them against Yorkshire when he scored his only century in county cricket: Wisden almost drooled: glorious… artistic…perfect timing. Then it was over. He sailed for Sydney in the autumn to become the sales and marketing manager of Courtaulds Australia. His cricket thereafter was minimal. Though he played in a first-class match as late as 1961, for the New Zealand Governor-General’s XI against MCC, he spent far more time fly-fishing. He had certain similarities with Bradman, wrote Alan Gibson in 1964, the build, the hawk-eye, the forcing stroke square of the wicket on the leg side, the determination to establish a psychological supremacy over the bowler as soon as possible. But Donnelly did not share Bradman’s passion never to get out. As with his batting, so with his career. As Frank Keating put it: It was as if all his own cricket had been a student pastime, a youthful wheeze not worth mentioning any more.
Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack
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