News Blog

27th May 2025

One of the final tweaks that I applied to the text of the recently published The Line of Sixteen: Searching for my children’s great, great grandchildren was to insert footnote 20 in Chapter 1:

“Including spouses, the greatest age reached by a member of the extended Rigg family has been that of Harriet Elizabeth Wheatley Riggs, who was born in Rutland and died in Richmond (both in Vermont, USA). Aged 104 when she died in 2024, she was the wife of Heath Kenyon Riggs (1918-2011), a great (x2) grandson of George and Jane Rigg”.

George Rigg (1802-1865), who was born and died in Baldersby, North Yorkshire, is the furthest in my direct Rigg line whom I have been able to identify. The parish records for Topcliffe state that he was the first son of “Mary Rigg of Baldersby” and “an unknown father”. George and Jane’s oldest son was William Rigg (1829-1905) and it was two of William’s sons – Stephen and Henry – who migrated from Stockton-on-Tees to Vermont in the 1890s.

Heath Kenyon Riggs was a grandson of Henry (who had added an ‘s’ to his surname in the USA) and Amelia Heath (who had been born in Middlesbrough). His obituary in the Burlington Free Press in April 2011 described his impressive academic career. He graduated with a BS degree from the University of Vermont (UVM) in 1940 and followed this with a PhD. from the University of Chicago. He returned to UVM as Director of Admissions in 1943 and then from 1953, after another period in Chicago, he worked in the mathematics faculty for over 30 years and is credited with introducing the first computer to UVM in 1960. He died in Burlington, Vermont, at the age of 92.

Heath married Harriet Elizabeth Wheatley in Montpelier, Vermont, in 1943.

Harriet’s lengthy obituary in the Burlington Free Press in April 2024 has provided a rich description of her full and active life: “a gifted writer, gardener, cook [with] a passion for Vermont history, notably Richmond history”. Her own degree was a BS in Home Economics from the University of Massachusetts Amherst and she spent some time in the food industry. (Her entry in the 1950 US Federal Census records that she was a Home Economist in Chicago undertaking “research and education in breakfast cereals”).

Harriet’s local history interests included being a founding member of the Richmond Historical Society, the Richmond Town Historian and the author of Richmond VT, a History of More Than 200 Years (2007). She was also the first female Deacon of the Richmond Congregational Church. Her contribution to the local community was deservedly recognised in a declaration by the Richmond Vermont Selectboard (the town’s legislative body) on 3rd June 2019:

“Let it be resolved that June 4, 2019 be declared Harriet Wheatley Riggs Day in honor of Harriet’s 100th Birthday and her remarkable service to the Town of Richmond, VT”.

Harriet Elizabeth Wheatley Riggs is the first centurion that I have discovered during my extensive researches into the extended Rigg and English families. (There are several nonagenarians). Accordingly, it is salutary to think back to the month in which she was born – June 1919 – and reflect on the world as it then was.

Indeed, to the day on which she was born: 4th June 1919. The relevant page of Wikipedia records that this was also the day on which the United States Congress approved the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution that would guarantee suffrage for women. That is quite a juxtaposition.

And other events that occurred during the month of June 1919? The Red Army made gains on the Eastern Front of the Russian Civil War, but lost ground to the White Volunteer Army on the Southern Front; John Alcock and Arthur Whitten Brown flew a Vickers Vimy on the first nonstop transatlantic flight from St John’s, Newfoundland, to Clifden, Connemara, Ireland; Admiral Ludwig von Reuter scuttled the German fleet at Scapa Flow; the International Labour Organisation (ILO) was established as an agency of the League of Nations; and two British Foreign Office officials – TE Lawrence (of Arabia) and St John Philby (father of the Soviet spy Kim Philby) – arrived in Cairo for discussions about Arab unrest.

And also: the Treaty of Versailles was signed on 28th June, formally ending World War I, five years to the day after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo.

Major events in our distant past, all of which occurred during the first four weeks in the life of Harriet Elizabeth Wheatley Riggs.

15th May 2025

At the end of last month, I added a book on family history – The Line of Sixteen: Searching for my children’s great, great grandparents – to my three publications in the “An Ordinary Spectator” series on watching sport.

As its title suggests, the structure of the book is based around the cohort of direct ancestors who were 4 steps back in the generational lines that who led directly to the two children (who are now adults) in my family. Their years of birth cover the period 1836 to 1869 with their places of origin ranging across England, Scotland and Ireland as well as Malta and Germany.

The book’s presentation of some of the lines within the family story goes back much further – to 16th Century Yorkshire and Hannover and 17th Century Suffolk.

Of course, any family history of this type risks having a limited interest for those not in the family itself. However, by also discussing the detailed research methodology that has underpinned the narrative, I have attempted to provide insights on the sources to be explored and the pitfalls to be avoided when compiling any family history.

And so what does this mean for this “News Blog” page of the www.anordinaryspectator.com website?

The main implication is that it will henceforth contain my current thoughts on both themes – watching sport and family history. Hence, for example, I intend that the most recent blog (on the Hamilton Academical versus Raith Rovers SPFL match – “The Business End of the Season”, 31st March 2025) will be followed, before too long, by a tribute to a distant relative in Vermont, USA, who died last year (as The Line of Sixteen was going to print) at the age of 104.

This dual approach is based on a happy descriptive coincidence. In 2012, in the Preface to An Ordinary Spectator: 50 Years of Watching Sport, I explained my choice of the book’s title:

“It represents my status at most of the sports I have been to see. I have been “an ordinary spectator”. In other words, for the overwhelming majority of the sporting occasions I have witnessed, from touchline or terrace or stand, I have paid my own way. To use an excellent phrase favoured by Americans, it has been “on my own dime”.

My perspective has been, therefore, not that of the professional commentator or the paid journalist, still less of the participating sportsman/woman himself (or herself). Rather, it has been that of someone who has had to dip into his disposable income – whether from pocket money or student grant or take-home pay – in order to fund his spectating habit”.

Likewise, when drafting the back-cover summary of The Line of Sixteen: Searching for my children’s great, great grandparents, I was keen to emphasise the type of person featured in the book:

“There are no Prime Ministers in this narrative – no Admirals of the Fleet or Knights of the Realm (though a son-in-law of my own great, great grandfather did play rugby for England in the 1890s!). But there are a host of “ordinary” people whose resilience, courage and determination – on both my side and my wife’s – have taken the family story through to the present day.

Ordinary and heroic. They were the ones who raised their families and worked hard and migrated in order to better their prospects. They were the ones who experienced the Great Famine in the Ireland of the 1840s and the horrors of the First World War trenches and the perils of service in the Merchant Navy during the Second World War – and whose personal stories deserve to be told”.

The changed role of the “News Blog” page is part of a general refreshment of the website as a whole. The Contents at the top of the page have been re-designed – and streamlined – to accommodate the family history interests and the sport-related items jointly in a way that is, I hope, straightforward to navigate.

Feedback on the new design of the website is welcome. Please do not hesitate to get in touch with your views.

31st March 2025

Since attending my first football fixture in Scotland (Celtic vs Dunfermline Athletic in April 1992), I had seen – prior to last Saturday – 25 out of 42 clubs currently playing in the Scottish Professional Football League (SPFL). At that rate of progress, it will take me another 22 years to complete the set. (These numbers exclude the five clubs – East Stirlingshire, Berwick Rangers, Brechin City, Cowdenbeath and Albion Rovers – that I watched before they dropped out of the SPFL).

At the weekend, I made the 70-minute train journey from Milngavie to Hamilton West – changing at Westerton – to watch Hamilton Academical FC play Raith Rovers FC in the Scottish William Hill Championship at New Douglas Park.

The football season is entering what the experts call its “business end”. At the start of play, Hamilton were in 8th position in the 10-team league, only two points above the 9th place slot (occupied by Dunfermline with a game in hand), the final occupants of which will be required to successfully negotiate play-offs with teams from the division below in order to retain their Championship status.

By contrast, Raith – in 6th place – were seemingly in mid-table no-man’s land: 6 points behind the 4th place (Partick Thistle) that would secure a position in the play-offs for promotion to the Scottish Premiership and 10 points above Hamilton. Nothing was guaranteed, however. With 3 points for a win and half-a-dozen games still to play, there remained scope for some twists before the promotion and relegation issues were finally decided.

Although I was greeted at Hamilton West by the correctly forecast weather of squally rain and gusting wind, I made a slight detour of my way to the ground by seeking out the house on Burnbank Road occupied in the 1860s by David Livingstone, the celebrated explorer and missionary, who had been born in neighbouring Blantyre. There was not much to see: a solid two-storey building with a white-washed facade directly in front of which a transit van was parked. It looked as if some renovation was taking place. There was a small plaque by the front door. I was glad to make my fleeting visit, however. I have a clear recollection of reading the Ladybird Books volume on David Livingstone in its children’s “Adventures in History” series when I was aged about 8 or 9. And how could I forget the name of the book’s author: L. du Garde Peach?

The damp, blustery conditions were sustained throughout most of the match – broken only by occasional heavier showers – the first half-hour of which was evenly fought on New Douglas Park’s artificial pitch. However, from my excellent vantage point at the top of the Main Stand, I sensed that Raith were beginning to get on top: sharper in the mid-field tackle, more co-ordinated in their passing and with the combative Finlay Pollock leading the forward line with energy and skill. The Hamilton goal was under threat when Dylan Easton cut in from the right-hand side and curled a left-footed shot just past the post.

If this served as a warning to the Hamilton defence, it was not heeded. Two minutes before half-time, Easton repeated the manoeuvre by cutting in from the right along the edge of the penalty area and, this time, striking the ball precisely inside goalkeeper Dean Lyness’s right-hand post. Cue celebration by the Raith supporters – a couple of hundred or so – who had journeyed from Kirkcaldy to take their position at the top of the stand behind the goal.

The play during most of the second half seemed to confirm that the teams’ respective standings in the league table were a fair reflection of their relative strengths. The Raith side – anchored in defence by Paul Hanlon and Callum Fordyce – took full control through further goals by Fordyce (an unchallenged header from a free kick) and Josh Mullin. The 3-0 scoreline reached in the 75th minute turned out to be the final result.

For the home supporters – all of whom were in the Main Stand in the crowd of just over 1,000 – it would have been a hard watch. I had detected some dissatisfaction in the first half when a promising attacking position was compromised by two long passes backwards that were accompanied by a general groan. Later, as the Raith goal tally mounted, most of the fans near to me seemed to deal with the impending defeat with a silent resignation and a communal shrug of the shoulders.

Over to my left, a minority were much more vocal in expressing their views about the team and, especially, its manager, John Hankin. Crudely vocal would be putting it mildly. Hankin – standing outside the manager’s dug-out and, no doubt, attempting to concentrate on the job at hand – could not have missed the vitriolic abuse that was being shouted at him from behind. It was not the first time that I had seen this type of public opprobrium directed at a football manager during a match. It is not pleasant to observe.

The sun came out for the last 10 minutes. Two of John Hankin’s substitutions – Jamie Barjonas and Kyle MacDonald – seemed to energise their side and, belatedly, Hamilton made their most threatening attacks of the match. The Raith goalkeeper, Josh Rae, was obliged to make three outstanding saves in quick succession, two of them from goal attempts – a powerful shot and a header – by MacDonald. The referee – Dan McFarlane, who had a sound match – blew the final whistle to a chorus of booing. My neighbour – an elderly Accies supporter, who had been silent throughout the proceedings – vocalised the very thought that I was having: “It could have been 3-3”.

At the close of play, the relative positions in the Championship league table were left largely unchanged. A victory for Partick Thistle at Greenock Morton meant that they remained in 4th place, six points above Raith Rovers. Likewise, Dunfermline’s defeat at Ayr United left them two points behind Hamilton, though still with a game in hand. Hamilton’s next match is on Saturday – away to Dunfermline.

As for my personal score, that’s now 27 football clubs I’ve now seen in action of those currently in the SPFL. The estimated time until the project completion has been reduced to 18 years.

Back in Milngavie on Saturday evening, walking home down a suburban street, I came across a young couple attired in water-proof clothing and hi-viz jackets. They were carrying buckets. We said “Good evening” to each other. I knew (from a recent local magazine report) that they were part of a volunteer group seeking to safeguard the passage of the toads that migrate at this time of year across that particular road from some woodland towards a nearby loch

So that was my day: recollecting a book I had read at primary school; watching professional football in Lanarkshire; observing the attempts to protect some local wildlife. Life can be nicely varied sometimes.

Postscript

Hamilton Academical FC were effectively relegated from the Championship 5 days after the Raith Rovers match when they received a 15-point deduction (and a fine) after the club was found to have breached multiple Scottish Professional Football League rules by an independent SPFL disciplinary tribunal.  The breaches included the failure to notify the SPFL in respect of the default of wage payments to 6 players and the provision of incorrect information regarding the stadium ownership.  The club’s subsequent appeal to the Scottish Football Association was rejected.

Separately, it was announced that Hamilton had rejected a plan to continue leasing New Douglas Park and would relocate to the Broadwood ground in Cumbernauld next season as plans were taken forward to build a new stadium.  Meanwhile, the Glasgow-based Clyde FC – the former tenants at Broadwood – would continue to play at New Douglas Park.

Raith Rovers finished 5^th in the final Championship table, just missing out on a play-off place.

26th October 2024

When I was a young boy in Leeds in the 1960s – and enthusiastically memorising my Rugby League records – the figure widely quoted for the highest number of points scored in a season by one player was given as 505 by the great Lewis Jones of Leeds and Great Britain in 1956-57 – see, for example, A.N. Gaulton’s The Encyclopaedia of Rugby League Football, 1968. (Jones died in March this year at the age of 92) .

However, for many years now, Jones’s total had been reduced to 496. I’m not exactly sure when this amendment was made, but it was certainly in place by the time of the publication of the 1983-84 edition of the excellent Rothman’s Rugby League Yearbook. In An Ordinary Spectator, I suggested that “[p]erhaps, like the height of Mount Everest, these measures are revised with the use of more accurate recording equipment”.

The official record has now been broken. In the recently completed 2024 season, the Wakefield Trinity full-back Max Jowitt recorded exactly 500 points from 26 tries and 198 goals.

I am aware that I am re-visiting familiar ground here. In “Record Breakers” (24th April 2024), I noted that the Glamorgan batsman Sam Northeast had overtaken Graham Gooch’s record for the highest individual score made by a batsman in a first-class match at Lord’s. Northeast’s 335 not out was in a Second Division match in the County Championship; Gooch’s 333, made in 1990, had been in a Test Match against India. (I suggested that, had I been in Northeast’s position – he was the Glamorgan captain – I might have declared his side’s innings closed on equalling Gooch’s record, rather than surpassing it).

I shall refrain from attempting to attach any value judgements to the respective achievements of Lewis Jones and Max Jowitt. The near 70-year gap between their glorious seasons makes such an effort irrelevant.

There are differences in circumstance, of course. In 1956-57, the Leeds fixture list was predominantly against other Yorkshire sides – ranging from high-flying Hull to bottom-of-the-table Doncaster – though they also had tough fixtures against Wigan, St Helens and Oldham; Wakefield’s 2024 league fixtures were in the Championship (the code’s second tier) from which they were promoted.

More generally, Rugby League is a higher scoring game in the modern era. In 1956-57, the average number of points registered in a league fixture was 31; in the 2024 Championship, it was 44. There are various reasons for this, mainly the many changes to the laws over this long period, including the value of a try being increased from three points to four.

On the other hand, in playing terms, the length of the current season is much shorter. The sources indicate that Lewis Jones played in 48 games in 1956-57, Max Jowitt in 34 this year.

The overall conclusion must be that sporting records are there to be broken. Max Jowitt’s new benchmark represents a tremendous achievement.

Meanwhile… what happened to Lewis Jones’s missing 9 points – the ones that reduced his officially recognised total from 505 to 496?

The answer is relatively straightforward, I think. In August 1956, Leeds and Hunslet drew 21-21 in their Lazenby Cup match. This was an annual pre-season “friendly” (if any match between the two fierce local rivals could be so called). Jones scored a try (then worth 3 points) and kicked 3 goals (2 points each). I assume that it is these points that were initially included in the official records of his season total, but subsequently excluded.

In its match report, the Yorkshire Observer reported “… a return to form by Jones. In his first game since breaking a leg in February, he showed much of his old attacking power and scored one of the best tries through intelligent supporting play”.

Little did they know what was to come over the remainder of the season.

11th October 2024

It is an appropriate time, I think, to refer back to a couple of my previous cricket-related blogs (both of which were reproduced in Still An Ordinary Spectator: Five More Years of Watching Sport (2017)).

In “The End of an Era” (18th November 2013), I reflected on the retirement of Sachin Tendulkar. He had played 200 Test Matches in which he had scored 15,921 runs. This is – by far – the most scored in this form of the game: the Australian Ricky Ponting, who had retired earlier the same year, comes next with 13,378.

In my speculation on whether these numbers would ever be surpassed, I stated:

I wonder if anyone will match these totals in the future: Alastair Cook perhaps, or, a little further down the line, Joe Root. Much obviously depends on whether Test cricket survives to anything like the current extent…

I had covered the general theme in another blog earlier in the year: “The Future of Test Match Cricket” (5th January 2013). In this – a less-than-optimistic piece about the sustainability of the longest form of the game – I mentioned a possible future scenario, in which the reduction in the number of Test-playing countries to three had obvious and serious implications for English county cricket.

It is highly unlikely that the 3 Test-nation model would be sustainable. England could not play South Africa or Australia every year without the novelty quickly wearing off. In turn, without the Test Match revenues, County cricket in anything like its present format would fold.

And, in 15 years’ time, instead of chasing whatever Test Match batting records Alastair Cook left behind, the veteran Joe Root would be ending his career playing for the Sheffield Steelers against the Leeds Loiners in the regional play-off of the Global 20-over Big Slog.

With hindsight, I would make two amendments to my previous text. The obvious one would be to replace South Africa with India as part of the likely surviving triumvirate of major Test-playing nations. The underlying point remains unchanged, however, given the continued threat of the riches offered in the abbreviated forms of the game to the playing resources of the West Indies, South Africa, Sri Lanka and New Zealand. (The other change would be to find another brand for the Sheffield team as the Steelers is the name claimed by the city’s ice-hockey side: the Sheffield Cutlers, perhaps).

Alastair Cook ended his Test Match career with 12,472 runs for England in 161 appearances, 59 of which were as captain. Two days ago, Joe Root – in his 147th appearance (64 of which have been as captain) – broke Cook’s England record when making a double-century against Pakistan in Multan. His total now stands at 12,664 – and counting.

I concede that there is an element of self-congratulation in this blog. At the beginning of 2013, the 22-year old Joe Root had played in only one Test Match, scoring 73 and 20 not out against India in Nagpur the previous December. To have identified him then – even with an element of semi-seriousness – as a possible contender to become England’s most prolific Test Match batsman might appear to have been an unusually impressive piece of forecasting. In reality, I’m not sure that it was a particularly quirky prediction to have made, even at that time.

The analysts and statisticians are now feverishly at work attempting to forecast if and when Root might overtake Sachin Tendulkar’s record. In about four years’ time at the current rate of scoring seem to be the general consensus, although all are agreed that there are many potential pitfalls along the way – injury, loss of form, diminution of desire, etc.

I will refrain from making another prediction. Instead, I will simply join the chorus of acclaim for the achievements of this classically correct batsman, who – like his mentor, Michael Vaughan – played his early club cricket with Sheffield Collegiate Cricket Club. Joe Root is another master craftsman following the White Rose path of Sutcliffe, Hutton and Boycott.

Speaking of which, there is a Keighley-born graduate of Burley Cricket Club in Wharfedale coming up on the rails. Following his triple-century in Multan, Harry Brook has already registered 1,875 Test Match runs in only 19 games.

This prompts the same thoughts as those expressed over a decade ago. Will Test Match cricket survive long enough for Brook to be able to challenge Root’s record? And, separately, would he be interested in doing so, given the attractions and rewards of the T10 and T20 forms of the game that are now available to the select few who are able to play cricket at the very highest level?

19th September 2024

In between the various commitments that I had on my visit to the South East of England last week, I had a free day on the Monday. The opportunity therefore presented itself for me to take in the first day of County Championship cricket that I had seen for over five years (a Yorkshire-Essex fixture at Headingley in June 2019).

From the options open to me, I selected the opening day of Sussex versus Glamorgan at the 1st Central County Ground in Hove. It turned out to be a good choice.

I had always wanted to see a match at Hove which, as a ground, cannot be called picturesque, but is certainly full of character, not least because of its slope down wicket towards the imposing Ashdown apartment buildings at the Sea End. At times, the playing conditions can also be affected by the incoming sea frets, though this did not occur on this occasion.

Sussex are having a good season. They began the match at the top of the Second Division challenging – principally with Middlesex and Yorkshire – for one of the two promotion places. (At the time of my visit, they had also reached the Finals Day of the T20 competition the following Saturday, though they were to be defeated by Gloucestershire in the semi-final at Edgbaston). By contrast, Glamorgan were in the lower half of the division having won only one Championship fixture out of the 11 they had played.

Sussex maintained their promotion push. The visitors, put into bat, lost their first wicket in the fourth over and limped to a total score of 186 at the tea interval with only Kiran Carlson registering a half-century. The Sussex openers Tom Haines and Daniel Hughes responded with a century opening stand and the reply had reached 121 for 1 by the close of play. I thought the most impressive Glamorgan bowler was the young off-spinner Ben Kellaway, who bowled 8 neat overs on the first evening and was rewarded with Haines’s wicket. (Highly unusually, he can also bowl slow left-arm). He was to bowl over 40 overs in the innings and take five wickets, though it was to no avail. Sussex duly completed a comfortable victory – by an innings and 87 runs – on the third day.

The Sussex captain was John Simpson, the former Middlesex wicket-keeper, whom I recall seeing when he played against Yorkshire at Scarborough in 2014. He had a good match. On this first day, he kept wicket neatly, taking 4 catches, and rotated his bowlers imaginatively with 5 of the 6 used contributing at least one wicket. The following day, batting at number 7, he made 117, sharing in a double-century partnership with Tom Clark, who made 112 not out.

Simpson’s opposite number was somewhat less successful on this occasion. I commented earlier this season (“Record Breakers”, April 24th) on the Glamorgan captain Sam Northeast achieving the record first-class score at Lord’s – 335 not out against Middlesex – and noted that he had previously (in 2022) made 410 not out in an innings against Leicestershire. In this match against Sussex, he made nine in the first innings and nought in the second. The vagaries of cricket.

My ticket to the ground – £25 at the senior rate – entitled me to entry to the pavilion, where my day began with a bacon sandwich and ended with a pint of beer. The upper tier provided an excellent view of the action from square-on to the play. At the lunchbreak, I took the opportunity to look at the neat presentation inside the pavilion of the club’s history, including its honours boards and the photographs and captions of its leading players – SR Ranjitsinhji, Maurice Tate, Ted Dexter, Tony Greig, John Snow et al. The pantheon included John Wisden, who played for the county between 1845 and 1863 and whose first Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack was published a year after he retired. The brief caption for Imran Khan noted that he had been Prime Minister of Pakistan between 2018 and 2022, though it omitted his incarceration by the current regime.

For part of the afternoon’s play, I wandered around the ground to the small East stand and then to the larger Sharks Stand at long off for the batsman facing the bowling from the Sea End. The former gave the most pronounced perspective of the slope, the advantage of which, on this occasion, was given to the England pace bowler Ollie Robinson. It was not difficult to imagine being the batsman facing the likes of Snow or Imran, charging in downhill towards me, and wondering exactly what my survival strategy might be.

In the present-day safety on the other side of the boundary rope, I was in my comfort zone, of course. The crowd dispersed around the ground – a few hundred of us, perhaps – was generally of my demographic: late middle-aged or retired. Most of us watched as single observers or in the groups of two or three whose occasional quiet conversations would be interrupted by the ritual of polite applause for a boundary or a maiden over. The attendants were uniformly friendly; the electronic scoreboard was instantaneously accurate; the MC was welcoming and informative; the traditional scorecard was free from the stack outside the club shop. It was County Championship cricket on the South Coast. Sussex by the Sea.

We lost the last couple of overs due to the fading light. When the play ended for the day, I had another quick look at the photographs inside the pavilion and then left the ground to take the short walk to the sea front. On reaching it, I turned to my left and started my long straight amble towards the distant Brighton Palace Pier. Behind me in the west, the sun was beginning its descent.

18th September 2024

I have recently spent a few days in the South East of England fulfilling various social engagements: catching up with friends, visiting family, and so on. During this period, I took the opportunity to visit two sporting venues that I had not been to for a long time, albeit not to watch any actual sport.

The first was for a reception hosted by Robert Gausden, to whom I referred in An Ordinary Spectator: 50 Years of Watching Sport as a work colleague in 1981 at what was then Queen Mary College in the University of London. We shared an office as research assistants in the Economics Department. Robert was – and is – a keen follower of sport and, in that year, we took the opportunity to take in many of the summer’s events, including cricket at Lord’s, tennis at Wimbledon and Ryder Cup golf at Walton Heath.

The reception was to mark Robert’s (quasi) retirement after 45 years in academia, principally as a university lecturer, and was attended by many of the students he had taught – including in Leeds, Newcastle and Portsmouth – ranging from recent graduates to those now in their late 50s. It was held in the President’s Suite at Lord’s.

The Suite is in the Grandstand and gives a commanding view of the stadium. It was a sunny afternoon and the groundstaff were preparing for Middlesex’s County Championship match with Gloucestershire, which started a couple of days later. I stood at the balcony for a few minutes and attempted to make the contrast between the imposing modern structure all around me and what I remembered as having been the view of the ground in 1976.

That had been the year of my first visit. With some friends, I watched one of the days of the England vs West Indies test match from the Mound Stand, when Mike Brearley had worn his rudimentary skull-cap as protection against the formidable opposition fast-bowling line-up that included Andy Roberts and Michael Holding. I recall that Bob Woolmer and David Steele batted bravely for some time, albeit with only the occasional troubling of the scorers. (The records show that Steele made 64 in 4½ hours. “Bazball” it was not).

It was also from the Mound Stand, from seats nearer the front, that I attended my last match at Lord’s when my father and I saw Yorkshire win the 55-over Benson and Hedges Cup in 1987. The final against Northamptonshire ended with the scores level and Yorkshire were judged the winners on the basis of having lost fewer wickets. The match-of-the-match was Jim Love, with whom I had played in the Leeds Schools Under 14 XI (which I had captained) and the Yorkshire Cricket Federation (Under 19) side. His innings of 75 not out was probably the most significant he played in a career of over a decade for the county.

The day after my Lord’s trip, I did the official visitors’ tour of Wembley Stadium. It was very good value at £18 (for me at the senior rate), our party of about 30 or so including visitors from Spain, Sweden, Lithuania, Bulgaria and Morocco.

The tour began in the small museum near the reception area, which I was amused to see included the cross-bar struck by the ball when Geoff Hurst scored his second goal in the World Cup final of 1966. It is arguably the most famous cross-bar in the history of the sport. This was followed by a visit to one of the upstairs bars, which contained a range of posters, photographs and videos and served as a reminder that, over the years, the stadium has hosted not only football, but also both codes of rugby, Gaelic football, American Football, greyhound racing, baseball, show-jumping et al as well as major non-sporting events, not least Live Aid and other major pop and rock concerts. (An aside. I saw the Rolling Stones perform there in 1982).

The tour guide was excellent: amusing and informative and with an obvious pride in the stadium in which he worked. We visited the spectator seats and the Royal Box and the media centre and, having seen the changing rooms, we were asked to form two lines so that we could walk out through the players’ tunnel on to the side of the pitch, at which point – a nice touch – the sound system played the roar of the crowd. (The pitch itself was strictly out of bounds, of course). Beforehand, after we had passed the drugs-testing room, the guide made one hilarious comment, which I am not at liberty to repeat here, but which, for some reason, the two Bulgarians in the group also found highly amusing.

Some of the points of detail were particularly interesting. I had previously not viewed the huge arch, which extends from one side of the stadium to the other, with any great affection, as, to me, it had echoes of triumphalism: a bit too Saddam Hussein if you like. The guide stated, however, if I have understood him correctly, that its purpose was principally functional, in ensuring the stability of the whole structure by locking the two sides together.

Other details were more quirky, if also still important. The guide mentioned that the stadium – which is not a “dome” because the roof does not extend over the whole arena – holds the world record for the largest number of toilets in a single building: 2,816 if I remember correctly, of which over 700 are for females.

On another point, he was adamant that, during his considerable experience of many years working on event days, there had been one particular set of events that had been by far the most enjoyable in terms of the friendliness of the crowd and the near-complete absence of any trouble whatsoever: the recent series of 8 Taylor Swift concerts that drew a total of over 750,000 fans. At this, one of the young women in our group clapped her hands in the (justifiable) reflected glory of having been one of that number.

As at Lord’s, I took the opportunity to cast my mind to my first visit to the stadium: a primary school day-trip from Leeds to watch the Rugby League Challenge Cup final of 1966 in which St Helens overwhelmed Wigan by 21 points to 2. On that day, we sat near the front on the rudimentary wooden benches provided for spectators near the old players’ tunnel at one end of the ground. I recalled in An Ordinary Spectator that “the far side of the ground looked a long way away – it was a long way away – and it was difficult to take in the obvious point that the distant spectators were about to watch the same match as I was”. From my seat in the Royal Box, I looked over to where I had been and closed my eyes and recreated that view from all those years ago.

My earliest – and, prior to last week, even my most recent – visits to Lord’s and Wembley were to the previous versions of the respective stadia. (In the latter’s case, the most recent was for the last of the Challenge Cup finals – Leeds Rhinos versus London Broncos – at the “old” Wembley in 1999). They were Distant Times. The world has moved on and the years have passed and I – we – have grown older.

Our reference points change. In former times, the walk from the Underground station to the stadium was down the concreted Wembley Way with the post-match journey back to the station usually involving a tortuous wait as the police shepherded groups of spectators on to the (occasional) departing trains. (I noted on the tour that one of the photographs showed Wembley Way being constructed by German prisoners-of-war, under the supervision of British engineers, in preparation for the 1948 Olympic Games). Since 2012, Wembley Way has been renamed Olympic Way and, today, it is a spacious and pleasant tree-lined boulevard containing cafes, a hotel and ethnic food retailers. (On the Sunday lunchtime that I was there, there was a vibrant atmosphere, even though no events were being held at the stadium). There are also several multi-storey apartment blocks in the vicinity (with one-bedroom flats currently on the market for around £450,000, according to one of the property sites I casually Googled).

Prior to attending Robert Gausden’s reception at Lord’s – and because I had arrived earlier than anticipated at St John’s Wood station – I took the short walk down one of the other streets to Abbey Road where, inevitably, I found myself taking a photograph of the zebra crossing made famous in the eponymous album cover in 1969. There were quite a few other people milling around, some of whom would have been to the nearby museum and others, like me, just interested – however vaguely – in the locality.

Distant Times. The passing years. Changing reference points. At the reception, in conversation with one of Robert’s recent students, I mentioned that I had taken the short detour to Abbey Road. She looked at me with a polite, but puzzled, expression.

“Abbey Road? What’s that?”.

1st July 2024

When I attended the World Indoor Championships in Glasgow earlier this year – “Thrilling Action and a New World Record” (4th March 2024) – I was given a copy of the October 2023 edition of Backtrack, the excellent magazine of the British Athletics Supporters Club. The publication had an article by Colin Allan on Arthur Rowe, Britain’s first great shot-putter, who won gold medals at both the Empire and Commonwealth Games and the European Championships of 1958. Allan noted that Rowe broke the British record 13 times and won 5 consecutive Amateur Athletics Association (AAA) Championships between 1957 and 1961. Then, in July 1962, he signed for Oldham RLFC for a reported fee of £1,500.

With the 2024 Olympic Games in Paris now almost upon us, I have been thinking about other attempts by elite performers in track and field to cross over into professional rugby league. It is a story of mixed success.

Arthur Rowe was not one of the successes, unfortunately. At 6 feet 2 inches and 17 stones, he might have been expected to find a role as a prop-forward but, instead, he was selected on the wing for a total of 4 “A” team matches. He did not graduate to the Oldham first team, however, and it was not long before he reverted back to athletics, though he was then limited to the professional competitions of the Highland Games and strongman competitions.

Although Rowe’s switch of allegiance was a major surprise for the athletics world of the early 1960s, this had already been dwarfed in shock value by the events of a decade earlier. In July 1953, the sprinter McDonald Bailey signed for Leigh for a reported fee of £1,000 with further payments to follow depending on appearances.

Although born in Williamsville, Trinidad and Tobago, Bailey had represented Great Britain in the 1948 and 1952 Olympic Games, winning a bronze medal in the latter in Helsinki. He had won the sprint double 7 times at the AAA Championships and, in Belgrade in 1951, he had run 10.2 seconds for the 100 metres, thereby equalling the world record set by Jesse Owens 15 years earlier. (The record would be equalled by six other sprinters, but not overhauled until 1956).

His acquisition by Leigh was a sensation. In modern terms, it was if Usain Bolt had signed for Hull Kingston Rovers.

The Leigh club of the early 1950s was respected in the Northern Rugby League, but it was not one of the elite: the previous season’s Lancashire Cup success had been its first trophy for over 30 years. However, there was no doubt that, if nothing else, it had pulled off a major public relations coup. Bailey’s debut for Leigh – and, as it turned out, his only first-team appearance – was against local rivals Wigan in December 1953, five months after he had signed for the club. This was a specially arranged match to celebrate the switching on of the floodlights at Leigh’s ground, when the reported attendance was just under 15,000.

In his match report for the Yorkshire Post and Leeds Mercury, the rugby league journalist Alfred Drewry began by noting the “17 photographers lining the touchline”. He went on to count the number of passes Bailey received on the wing – 9 in the full 80 minutes, of which he dropped 2, though he did score a try – but also commented that “his defence was feeble in the extreme”. Drewry’s overall conclusion was that “all in all, one was left wondering what all the fuss was about”. Bailey announced his retirement from rugby league shortly afterwards.

If Arthur Rowe and McDonald Bailey did not make the grade in their new sport, are there examples of international athletes who did? There are indeed.

Peter Henderson ran for New Zealand in the 1950 British Empire Games in Auckland, when he reached the final of the 100 yards and then won a bronze medal in the 4 x 110 yards relay. His success in rugby league – having joined Huddersfield in September 1950 – was not exactly a surprise, however, as he had played rugby union for the All Blacks in 7 international matches before focusing on his sprinting talents. Henderson stayed with Huddersfield for 7 seasons during which time he won both Yorkshire Cup and Challenge Cup winners medals (in the 1952-53 season) and racked up a total of 214 tries as a wing three-quarter.

In many respects. Peter Henderson’s sporting career was not dissimilar to that of the South African, Adriaan “Attie” van Heerden, the main difference being that the latter’s athletics peak year of 1920 – when he was the national champion in both the 120 yards and 440 yards hurdles and then a participant at the Olympic Games in Antwerp – preceded his two caps as a Springbok rugby union international. Van Heerden then played for Wigan between 1923-27, scoring over 100 tries in this period. Undoubtedly the most famous of these was in the 1924 Challenge Cup final, played in Rochdale, when he ran around a mounted policeman in the in-goal area who was attempting to keep the huge crowd at bay. (The final of this competition was not played at Wembley until 1929).

It is fair to say that Peter Henderson and Attie van Heerden were already top rank rugby players (albeit not in the league code) who took time out to pursue their athletics careers for a relatively short period before taking up the professional version of the oval ball game. Perhaps a more clear-cut example of the successful transition from top-flight sprinter-to-wing three-quarter was the Welshman, Berwyn Jones, who was signed by Wakefield Trinity in 1964 after playing in a couple of trial matches under the ironic pseudonym of “A Walker”. Jones had also played rugby union, but for his club – Rhymney RFC in South Wales – rather than at a higher level.

Jones had competed in the 1962 European Championships in Belgrade (for Great Britain) and the same year’s British and Commonwealth Games in Perth (for Wales) winning a bronze medal at both in the respective 4 x 100 metres and 4 x 110 yards relay races. His career in rugby league was with Wakefield and then Bradford Northern and (briefly) St Helens over the course of 5 seasons and he was another prolific try-scorer. He also represented Great Britain on three occasions in international matches against France and, in 1966, he was selected for the GB tour of Australasia – the highest accolade for a British player – during which he played in 15 matches and scored 24 tries.

It is a fascinating quirk that, when Berwyn Jones lined up for the sprint relay finals of the two athletics championships of 1962, one of his teammates/rivals was Alf Meakin from Swinton. Perhaps they compared notes on the attractions of alternative sporting careers. Like Jones, Meakin was a double medal winner, taking bronze in the 4 x 100 metres in Belgrade and then gold (for England) in the 4 x 110 yards in Perth.

Having completed in the 1964 Olympic Games in Tokyo, Meakin had trials with Leeds in the autumn of that year, but was not offered a contract after one first-team and two “A” team matches. (His only previous rugby experience had been in a handful of matches in the union code with the RAF). However, he had more success with Blackpool Borough, for whom he scored 12 tries in the 1965-66 season before taking up a post as a sprint coach with Preston North End FC.

For those athletes named so far, the decision to seek a career in rugby league would have been taken in the knowledge that there was no going back to life as an amateur athlete. Colin Allan’s article makes it clear that the AAA’s regulations regarding being paid to play rugby were effectively no less stringent than those of the Rugby Football Union. (In New Zealand, the RFU’s lead on professionalism was thoroughly endorsed by the NZRU: Peter Henderson’s ban from playing or coaching rugby union lasted for 38 years).

Against this, therefore, it was heartening to read in Allan’s article of the letter sent to Arthur Rowe by Jack Crump, the British Team Manager, wishing him every success in his professional sporting career: an honourable gesture by the senior administrator. Alf Meakin also received similar correspondence.

The Bradford club – by now in its modern guise as the Bradford Bulls – had success with another former British athlete, when it signed Abi Ekoku in 1997 from the Halifax Blue Sox, the player having initially joined the London Broncos in 1993. Like Arthur Rowe, his specialism was in the field events; he was selected by England for both the shot and discus in the 1990 Commonwealth Games in Auckland, coming sixth in the former event.

Unlike Rowe, Ekoku did secure a regular place as a wing or centre three-quarter in his new sport. Just as Peter Henderson had done almost 40 years earlier, he played in rugby league’s showcase club fixture – the Challenge Cup final at Wembley – for the Bulls against St Helens in 1997, though it was a loser’s medal that he was awarded at the end of the match. Following his retirement from playing, Ekoku remained in the sport, at various times being the CEO of the Keighley Cougars and Bradford Bulls and then the Great Britain team manager.

For the most recent attempt to move into a professional rugby league career from the disciplines of the sprint lane, we turn to Dwain Chambers, who was taken on (temporarily) by the Castleford Tigers club in March 2008. Chambers had returned to competitive athletics in 2006 following a two-year drug ban, but his peak years as a 100m sprinter were already behind him; his personal best had been the 9.97 seconds recorded when winning a bronze medal at the 1999 World Championships in Seville and he had followed this up with a 4th place in the same event’s final in the Sydney Olympic Games a year later.

By the time of Chambers’ rugby sojourn, we were well into the Super League era with that division’s first-team squads all being full-time professionals. We had also entered the period in which the on and off-field experiences of professional sportsmen were subject to the closest media scrutiny. For Chambers’ first (and, again, only) game for Castleford (an “A” team match against York), the Guardian’s rugby league correspondent – the highly respected Andy Wilson – provided a blow-by-blow account of each time Chambers touched the ball (7 in total in the 40 minutes he was on the field) or attempted a tackle (3 successful, 4 missed).

Or perhaps nothing had changed: Wilson was echoing the approach taken by Alfred Drewry when reporting on McDonald Bailey in the Leigh vs Wigan match over half a century earlier.

I recall that the media interest in the Castleford/Chambers connection extended to the BBC’s national evening news, but – apart, again, from the short-term publicity angle – the outcome was not a success. Castleford did not pursue their interest, though the press reports suggest that they had been impressed with Chambers’ effort and commitment.

Dwain Chambers was aged 30 when he took part in his Castleford trial match; in the earlier generations, Arthur Rowe had been 26 and McDonald Bailey 32 when they dipped their toes into the rugby league waters. Without having had any previous exposure to rugby in some form, the challenges they were attempting were surely close to impossible. It was – and is – a demanding sport, in which overall speed and fitness are necessary, but not sufficient, conditions to attain success. There are a range of other skills to be mastered in handling, tackling, positional play and – not least – learning to absorb the physical assaults (lawful and unlawful) on the body. By contrast, Berwyn Jones, Peter Henderson and “Attie” van Heerden had had prior rugby experience, in the Henderson and van Heerden cases at the highest level.

I have always had an interest – and an admiration – for those elite sportsmen and sportswomen who attempt to reach the top in other sports, though I suspect that the days of the elite athletes trying their hand in professional rugby are long gone. Nonetheless, when I watch the Olympic Games athletics on the television next month, I might keep half an eye open for that potential wing three-quarter.

18th May 2024

I did not play for the Club. Nor was I a member. Nor, indeed, did I have any connection with it.

Nonetheless, one day last week, a year after it had permanently closed down, I paid my respects by visiting its former ground and taking a stroll around where the boundary used to be.

Poloc CC, situated on the south side of Glasgow, was founded in 1878 and resident at its Shawholm ground from 1880. Resident until 2023 that is, when it was announced that the landlord would be terminating the lease. The Club’s subsequent negotiations – with the landlord’s agents and the new tenant – led nowhere. It would have to leave. At a Special Meeting of the members, it was decided that Poloc CC would be dissolved on 30th April 2023.

1880: the construction of the Panama Canal begins; the Amateur Athletics Association is formed in Oxford; and WG Grace scores 152 for England against Australia at the Oval in the first home Test match.

The nearest railway station is Pollokshaws West, a 10 minute ride from Glasgow Central. This itself has a historical context. A blue plaque on the brick wall of the platform at which I arrived informed me that the station was opened as Pollokshaws in September 1848 by the Glasgow, Barrhead and Neilston Direct Railway. It is the oldest surviving station in Glasgow.

A cursory glance at the story might lead one to suppose that Poloc CC played on an inner-city site that was ripe for development as a housing complex or a retail park. Not so. The ground is – was – situated within Pollok Country Park, one of urban Britain’s finest open spaces. (Note to self: care needed with the different spellings).

The Club closed down with some style. Five of its spectators’ benches – suitably inscribed “Remember Shawholm, Remember Poloc”– were distributed to the other founder members of the Western District Cricket Union with others gifted to longstanding Club members.

It was on another bench – supplied by the Friends of Pollok Country Park – that I paused for a rest on my lap of the ground. In front of me was the path that stretched down one side of the playing area, a popular route with joggers and dog walkers. To my far left, behind a high fence, were the grounds of the Police Scotland Dog Training Centre; I doubted that many folk would ignore the prominent warning sign to “keep out”. Behind me, the gently drifting White Cart Water, into which – I guessed – one or two cricket balls might have been smote with long straight hits over the years.

The ground itself is framed by a series of tall mature trees, which would have provided the sense of an enclosed arena to those in action in the middle. The pavilion remains in place, now in use by the new tenant, its whitewashed façade in need of some refreshment. The entrance from the pavilion on to the playing area was down a slight slope, up which a tired boundary shot might have struggled to reach the sanctuary of the rope. Around the ground, the outer reaches of the former outfield had been roughly mown, the cut grass remaining loose on the undulating surface. On the far side, beyond the boundary, there was the rusted metal frame of one of cricket nets.

Of course, we know that nothing lasts forever. But we are still shocked when – whether through the actions of man or nature – something that had apparently seemed permanent is no more. For the generations of Club members and players, there will have been an obvious sense of loss and even despair.

However, even for those of us looking on from outside, there is a feeling of diminution. Economists speak of the “existence value” that we attach to something that we know to exist even if we might never see it for ourselves and of the intrinsic loss that occurs with its removal – as with the Sycamore Gap tree at Hadrian’s Wall, for example. I think that a long-established community cricket club – with an ethnic diversity of its membership and a vibrant junior section – falls into this category. (Somewhat ironically, the grounds of the former Poloc CC have their own sycamore tree, standing sentry near the path at the entrance. It is a beautiful sight and – thankfully – it is still standing).

The new tenant is a football academy that, according to its website, “strives to provide every young player the best experience to living their dream of becoming a professional footballer” (sic) by giving “the highest coaching to all age groups, both male and female”. As I prepared to head back to the railway station, I was passed by three young boys – smartly attired in the academy’s kit and with their backpacks no doubt carrying their boots and other essentials – as they headed towards the pavilion. Good luck to them.

From a general perspective, the change in the ground’s tenancy reflects two things, I think. The first is the lack of sentimentality to be found within the cold winds of market forces. A landlord seeks a higher rate of return: end of story.

Second, there is further confirmation – if it were needed – of the overwhelming dominance of one particular sport in the West of Scotland.

And it’s not cricket.

24th April 2024

Earlier this month, the Glamorgan captain Sam Northeast broke the record for the highest individual score by a batsman in a first-class match at Lord’s, when he made 335 not out in the fixture against Middlesex. The previous record had been held by Graham Gooch – 333 in 1990.

Northeast has a track record for huge scores. In a 2002 match – batting for Glamorgan against Leicestershire – he amassed 410 not out, the ninth highest first-class score in the history of the game. These are remarkable feats of skill, concentration, patience and stamina.

Now comes the “but”. I know that records are there to be broken… But…

Gooch’s innings was in a Test match between England and India, in which the opposition bowlers included Kapil Dev, Manoj Prabhakar, Ravi Shastri and Navenda Hirwani who, between them, would end their Test careers with a total of 747 wickets. He opened the batting on the first morning of the three-match series with India having won the toss and decided to field. There was a sizeable crowd and the pressure was on. Sam Northeast’s innings was in a County Championship second division fixture in which the two sides’ first innings produced a total of 1275 runs for the loss of 13 wickets. He declared his side’s innings closed at the end of the over in which he had broken the record.

The question of what I would have done under the circumstances is largely irrelevant, of course, given that my only time on a first-class cricket field was for a few minutes as a substitute fielder in a Cambridge University versus Warwickshire match at Fenner’s nearly 50 years ago. (For completeness: I threw the ball in over the top of the stumps after Dennis Amiss had hit it past me in the covers for two runs on his way to making 123). However, had I been in Northeast’s position, I do wonder if I might have declared on equalling Gooch’s record, rather than surpassing it. Why not be bracketed with an England captain who played in 118 Test matches and scored 8,900 runs in the process?

There is a precedent for this. In a Test match against Pakistan in Peshawar in 1998, the Australian captain Mark Taylor declared his side’s innings closed when he had reached an unbeaten 334. At the time, this happened to be the (joint) Australian record for an individual Test match innings, the existing record-holder being a certain Don Bradman, who had registered the feat against England at Headingley in 1930. The slight complication here is that this was Taylor’s score at the end of a day’s play and he had attempted to add to his total when facing the final two deliveries. He declared the innings closed before play began the next morning. (The milestone was overhauled a few years later when Matthew Hayden amassed 380 against the might of the Zimbabwean bowling attack).

A variant of this theme is given in the final innings that the Australian Darren Lehmann played for Yorkshire, against Durham at Headingley in 2006. In making 339 he did beat Bradman’s record Headingley score, but fell short of another record of which, certainly, most Yorkshire players (including Lehmann) and supporters would have been aware: George Herbert Hirst’s 341, which dated from a match against Leicestershire in 1905. In a subsequent interview, Lehmann – undoubtedly the most successful of Yorkshire’s overseas players – stated that he had been attempting to break Hirst’s record and had been bowled trying to hit a six. However, he also stated that, on reflection, “I’m actually quite glad that I haven’t got the record because I think that a Yorkshireman should have it.”

For most sporting records, the option for the potential record-breaker to ease up in order to merely equal the target rather than beat it simply does not apply: the sprinter approaching the finish line, the goalkeeper clocking up consecutive clean sheets, the tennis player chasing Grand Slam titles… However, for the batsman in cricket, there is this rare opportunity, although I recognise that there can also be caveats. If I had been Sam Northeast on 333 with my side needing one run to win off the final ball of the match, I suspect my attitude would have been different.

There is no right or wrong to this, of course. The current generation of sportsmen and women will have different perspectives on the role – and relevance – of history in their chosen sport. Moreover, in Northeast’s case, by the time that he had reached Gooch’s landmark he must surely have been experiencing a dizzying combination of euphoria and exhaustion. And, as we see with Darren Lehmann, one’s thought processes at the moment of potential history might evolve into something different with the passage of time.

Footnote. Graham Gooch also scored 123 in the second innings of the 1990 Lord’s Test match. With his match aggregate of 456, he thus continues to hold the records for the most runs scored in a Test match and in a first-class match at Lord’s.