CRICKET HISTORY

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 10, Issue 69, 6 January 1947, Page 5

CRICKET HISTORY

BIRTH OF THE ‘ASHES’

THRILLING TEST OF 1882

In view of the intense interest in the M.C.C. matches in Australia, it is interesting to recall the first occasion, when the Australian eleven beat England in 1882. In the dramatic game some of the giants of the English cricketing world were definitely outclassed and the whole of the sporting world went as it were, into automatic mourning.

Here is the thrilling story:

It was in 1878 that an Australian cricket team first visited the Old Country. They didn’t win a game. On their second tour, two years later, they were heavily defeated by England in the first so-called Test Match.

When the Australians next came, in 1882, Kennington Oval was the scene of a Test Match unlikely to be surpassed in drama and thrills as long as cricket is played. Australia, it had been amply demonstrated that season, were at last able to meet England on terms of ,at least, equality. Moreover, they had in F. R. Spofforth a great bowler, already spoken of as “The Demon,” who had achieved the magnificent figures of . six wickets for four runs against the Marylebone Cricket Club.

At the Oval that September morning there were few doubts about the outcome of this eagerly awaited Test Match, however. England’s side—from Dr. Grace, then 34 years of age and at the height of his powers, to Peate, our own “demon bowler,” it was everywhere considered one of the strongest ever to take the field.

Leaden skies and a spongy wicket greeted Bannerman and Massie as they came out to open Australia’s first innings. Pelting rain over the weekend had played havoc with the pitch, but the bowlers fairly scintillated on the tricky grass.

Disaster after disaster overwhelmed Australia’s batsmen; before lunch six of their strongest wickets had crumpled for only 30. By five past three, the entire eleven had been skittled out for 63, Barlow, the Lancashire all-rounder, taking five wickets for nineteen.

* England’s innings opened hardly less sensationally. Spofforth whipped down a terrific yorker which clean bowled “W. G.” at four and a run or so later the Demon tempted Barlow to shovel an easy catch to Bannerman at forward point. By evening they were all out for 101. Rain deluged down before play resumed. A treacle of mud overspread the bowler’s “holes,” the ball slipped like soap from their grasp, and for a while Australia pulverised the attack at the rate of a run a minute.

As they neared the half century Massie was badly missed at long off, and the crowd noticed a famous distress signal—Dr. Grace tugging uneasily at his great black beard. But Massie left at 55, a piece of whirlwind fielding got Murdoch, the Australian captain, run out, and England breathed again as a long procession to the pavilion developed. Australia’s secPnd innings closed at 122, and with but 85 runs needed, and eleven crack batsmen to get them, all hearts were light. Out at the wicket the wonderous, confident figure of The • Champion and A. N. Hornby soon launched England on the road to victory. The runs came easily enough at first—but at 15, Spofforth, bowling at the Vauxhall end, suddenly unleashes the full fury of his demoniac attack. Hornby’s bat cleaves the air, he wheels round, sorrowfully suiweys a shattered wicket, and is on his way to the pavilion. Barlow walks across the field—and with his very next ball spofforth rattles his stumps. But George Ulyett joins Grace now and these two mighty hitters go after the Demon with a„ vengeance, the score leaps to within 34' runs of victory. Ulyett opens his shoulders to drive Spofforth, but the wily Australian keeps one “tucked up his sleeve” for moments such as this—all Ulyett manages ts a clumsy flick behind the wicket. Blackham, the great wicketkeeper, springs up and takes a glorious catch.

“W.G.” goes next. The champion lashes out at Boyle, fails to get the feel of the ball, jerks it unsteadily to mid-off into Bannerman’s unerring palms. And now Alfred Lyttelton and A. V. Lucas bat for -their lives; Spofforth and Boyle bowl an amazing orgy of “maidens.” Fortyeight successive balls and not a run added!

Spofforth, Murdoch and Bannerman “go into a huddle.” A whispered conference, a piece of nicely-cal-culated misfielding, Lyttelton and

Lucas swallow the bait, run a single, and Lyttelton faces the bowling. For four more overs the hei’oic stonewalling continues/ In a silence heavy-freighted with drama, Spofforth flashes down a hurtling breakback which spreadeagles Lyttelton’s stumps. Still we have five fine wickets to fall, and less than 20 runs are wanted. Sure-ly-—surely we can’t lose now, whispered the spectators. But the Great Exit continued remorselessly. Maurice Read, Steel, Lucas are gone—and the terrible “Spoff” steel-wristed, tireless, is bowling better than, ever! We needed but nine runs when Studd, the last man in, went out to join Peate—a couple of good drives to the boundary would do it! Incredible was the tenseness hanging over the Oval those last few moments. At the wicket Peate stood ashen-faced, dry-lipped, waiting for Studd, who, it was said, sat in the Pavilion huddled in a blanket, trembling so violently he could hardly strap on his pads. In the cro.wd, one man dropped dead from excitement, another gnawed the handle of his umbrella, even the scorer could hardly scrawl Studd’s name in his book. Peate braces himself as Studd comes in. Shakily he snicks the ball away to leg for two. Now for one of those boundary hits. His bat leaps at the peei'less bowling, he swings wildly, misses—and the bails fall with a deathty clatter.- Australia has beaten us by seven runs!

For a few moments the Oval’s stillness was almost unearthly. Then with characteristic British sportsmanship the crowds swarmed across the pitch wildly mobbing their conquerors. Spofforth, in particular was hoisted shoulder-high, and carried on the crest of- a surging wave of beaming faces into the pavilion. Fittingly, the Oval that day was the birthplace of cricket’s most famous legend. The usualh/ cheery “Pink Un”—the great sporting paper of the era—printed in its next issue the famous obituary, shrouded in mourning:—

“In Affectionate Remembrance of English Cricket, which died at the Oval, on 29th August, 1882. Deeply lamented by a Large Circle of Sorrowing Friends and Acquaintances.

N.B. The Body will be cremated and the Ashes taken to Australia.”

Since that year the contest has been colloquially for The Ashes.