Two Great Victories. Two Very Different Heroes

IT was one of sport’s greatest hoodoos. For 75 years England had failed to beat their greatest enemy at the home of cricket.
Yesterday’s 115-run Ashes win over Australia lay to rest that ghost and was as wildly celebrated as the famous day in June 1934.
The heroes though could hardly have been more different.
Hedley Verity captained England that day, taking an extraordinary 15 wickets to see off an Australia team featuring the great Don Bradman. Verity was a modest, scholarly man, a left arm spinner who went on to be a war hero, dying at the hands of the Germans.





By stark contrast England have rarely had such a rumbustious talisman than Flintoff; the embodiment of charisma and a man known as much for his off-field troubles as his ability to tear apart test teams with bat and ball.
Derek Hodgson, 79, a cricket historian and former president of the Cricket Writers’ Club, said that Flintoff had yet to achieve Verity’s greatness.
He said: “I could not imagine Freddie becoming a captain in the armed forces. A sergeant maybe, but nothing higher as his sympathies would always have been with the rank and file soldiers. Verity was always the officer type.
“Verity was well-liked, but he was schoolmastery. You could almost imagine him as a university professor if he had survived the war. He may have had a couple of drinks after a match but you never heard of him getting up to anything with pedalos.”
Lauded from the day he made his debut for Lancashire in 1997, aged 17, Flintoff’s natural talent was undermined by issues of weight, motivation and his joie de vivre.
But in 2005 he led England to glory in the Ashes, scoring 402 runs and taking 24 wickets in five Tests, catapulting him to global superstardom.
Destructive on the pitch, he has been equally self-destructive off it. In 2007 he was sacked as England vice-captain during the World Cup after a long drinking session in the wake of defeat against New Zealand saw him falling of a pedalo in the early hours and having to be rescued from the water.




Only three weeks ago he was disciplined for failing to show up for a team-building coach trip to the World War One trenches at Ypres ahead of the Ashes. Speculation was rife that he had missed the bus after drinking too much at the team dinner the night before.
It is behaviour Verity would never have countenanced, on or off the pitch. Not for him the grandstanding, revelling in the glory of a wicket. A handshake would have sufficed.
“I doubt that the MCC members would even have risen to their feet for him,” said Mr Hodgson. “It would take something like a Bradman triple-century to warrant a standing ovation.”
Verity would prepare himself for an Ashes Test with an extra bowl of strawberries. By contrast, on winning the Ashes in 2005, Flintoff went on the razzle. When asked the following morning whether he had eaten anything he replied: “Yes. A cigar.”
Verity, who played for Lancashire’s great rivals, Yorkshire, waited until he was 25 to make his debut for his county, but his arrival in the game sparked a similar furore to Flintoff’s.
He played 40 Test matches for England between 1931 and 1939. In the Lord’s game he took 15 for 104, including 14 wickets in one day.
On 1 September, 1939, the last day of county cricket before World War II, he took seven wickets for nine runs as Yorkshire thrashed Sussex at Hove.
Upon the outbreak of war, Verity joined the army and in 1943, having been promoted to the rank of captain, he was wounded during the Eighth Army's advance on Catania and taken prisoner by the Germans.
After being transferred into Italian hands, he died at Caserta a few days later from his wounds, aged 38.
He still holds the best first-class figures in history, 10 for 10 against Nottinghamshire in 1932.
Alan Hill, who wrote Verity’s biography, said both men were great patriots but lived very different lifestyles.
He said: “Hedley was from a church going family. His father once won a bottle of wine in a raffle but his mother took it immediately and poured it down the drain.
"He was devout in his cricket and devout in his quest to make himself a soldier. I think the Christian ethic was definitely in his blood."
In 2007, 66 years after he died, Verity became the 7th cricketer to be elected into Yorkshire County Cricket Club's 'Hall of Fame'.
Across the Pennines, Flintoff will hope he doesn’t have to wait as long for similar recognition.

Swinging From Beyond The Grave

IT was no surprise to see Michael Jackson top this week’s charts – after all, the old music maxim is you become more successful when you’re dead.
But it’s not just Jacko who might be enjoying a second career after he’s passed on.
My father David died very recently (see below) and while researching info for his eulogy, my brother and I came across an extremely odd story.
In the late 1960s, and without telling any members of his family it would seem, he and a colleague formed a record company, Davjon Records, and produced a hugely bizarre LP (to the younger ones among you, they’re those black, vinyl things sometimes called records), consisting of popular hymns given a distinctly psychedelic touch of jazz.



Called Hymns A’ Swinging, it includes thing like All Things Bright and Beautiful set to a heavy Latin beat and, well, you listen to the rest here . There’s nothing a thousand words could say that two seconds’ listen doesn’t reveal!
It is undoubtedly the kind of thing you could only enjoy having had, shall we say, a dose of something ‘60s to put you in the mood.
Anyway, it quickly became apparent that taking two unfashionable 1960s topics – jazz and God – and sticking them together might not have been the brightest business plan.
The record didn’t exactly take off; my dad and his partner went their separate ways and that was that. Or so you’d think.
Because fast forward almost 30years to the day and, unbelievably, Hymns A’ Swinging has just been released on CD.
It turns out that during all these years the record has gained cult underground status and has been much sought after at car boot sales across the land, a kind of “car boot classic”.
It was picked up by Jonny Trunk, owner of Trunk Records, who first made some of it available to download and then, under pressure from punters, decided in April to release it on CD.
He told me that vinyl versions have regularly changed hands for up to £100, primarily because of a track containing some jamming by the celebrated British jazz saxophonist Tubby Hayes.
Jonny, who calls the record “a unique piece of British culture” and “an oddity”, said he would have done it earlier had someone not bootlegged the original a few years ago and illegally produced more vinyl copies, no doubt flooding car boots everywhere and reducing the album’s value.
So, it transpires that my father’s attempts to pre-emulate Stock, Aitken and Waterman were not as unsuccessful as they first seemed, although Hymns A’ Swinging was never likely to make him a millionaire or get him a date with Kylie.
It is undoubtedly a strange tale, but it goes to show several things.
Firstly, it’s never too late, and even if you think you’ve failed, you might yet succeed.
And secondly, Jacko had better hang onto his hat if he wants number 1 again next week.

Sad times

To those of you who were kind enough to ask why I had apparently and suddenly stopped this blog, it's really only because for the last few weeks my attention has been very much elsewhere.
My father, David, who some of you knew, was ill for a few months but at the beginning of May was taken into hospital. Sadly, he never made it home again and died on June 12th. The funeral was last week and he would have been proud of the send-off. The church was packed. 120 bottles of wine were bought and 120 bottles of wine were drunk. He was a great man. I put together a few words on behalf of the family which were handed out as people left the service, which are reproduced below.
To those of you who sent such kind words, cards, calls, love and prayers, I can't thank you enough.


A tribute to David
WERE David able to see us today he would no doubt be thrilled that so many of his friends had come along to say farewell.
In the difficult days since he left us we have been so touched by the cards, messages, letters, visitors and telephone calls. It has served to prove, if proof were ever needed, how much he touched the lives of everyone he met.
He would light up a room just by walking into it, with his charm, quick-fire wit, exhaustive enthusiasm and infectious personality. That often masked his sensitive side, a genuineness and generosity of spirit. He couldn’t say no to anyone or anything, even if he knew he should have. Once you were his friend, you stayed his friend.
A true Englishman, his home was his castle, and anyone who called to visit, day or night, was made welcome, normally with a glass or two.
Most of all though he was a family man. That he welcomed friends of his sons and daughters as if they were his made 34 Heathhurst Road such a happy home. A house of laughter and joy.
You will all have your own memories: a friend, neighbour, drinking buddy, joker, piano player. Or just someone who gave of himself to whatever you needed.
For a man who so loved life, the last nine months were so hard for him to comprehend, but he bore his illness with dignity and strength; he never lost his spirit, his fight, or even his sense of humour. He would, in those final days, smile with his eyes. And smile he did, right to the end.
David may not be with us anymore, but he lives on among us. Through his children and grandchildren; through his wife; through his many friends.
Through those who have been touched by his extensive charity work. Many will not know his name, or know his face, yet they will benefit from his work and kindness long into the future. His being will echo down the years.
David lived a wonderful life to the full, and we thank you for sharing it. His departure will leave a chasm in our lives that can never be filled.
He loved, and was dearly loved. He will be sorely, sorely missed.
With our love, Tricia, Chris, Nick, Tori and Robbie
David Britten. 25.07.39 – 12.06.09