Trent Bridge

At the end of a school day in the summer of 1921 two West Bridgford schoolboys in short trousers would race down Central Avenue to Trent Bridge cricket ground. Arriving at the ground they parted two uprights in a wooden perimeter fence and squeezed through. They dashed to the pavilion steps and wormed their way through to the front. They never had tickets and went unnoticed.  At close of play they thrust a small black autograph book into the faces of the departing players. These included icons of Nottinghamshire cricket – John and George Gunn, Joe Hardstaff Sr, the captain Arthur Carr, Fred Barratt and W.W. “Dodger’ Whysall. The older boy might squeeze off a photograph on his box camera. At that time, when their cricketing heroes included Jack Hobbs and Herbert Sutcliffe, visits to the ground after school included Test Matches. The camera would then be carried home, mother was shooed out of her kitchen, the boys would set up a darkroom and they developed the photos of their heroes. The next day after school they returned to the ground with book and photographs and asked the players to sign them.

For these boys Trent Bridge was Mecca, a phantasmagorical field where academic studies were forgotten quickly and their sporting passions were indulged. The cricket ground was where they lived out their dreams whilst they knocked a bat and ball around with their fellows at the tea intervals. And so was born a lifelong love of a game and attachment to a few acres of green grass.

The younger of the boys was my father. Cricket engulfed him as he grew up without his father to interest him in other hobbies. Later in life he co-founded an amateur team at his factory. He passed on to me a feel for the game - only a modest talent to play it evolved. Yet Trent Bridge became part of me as it did for him and for successive generations of Nottinghamians for nearly two hundred years.

Trent Bridge cricket ground is one of the best and widely loved Test grounds in the world. I began to wonder why. Applying an interest in landscape and people co-existing together I discovered this piece of ex-swampy meadow has attracted a colourful cast of characters who have made their mark on history since 1838. Great drama has been witnessed taking place on this turf; sporting careers and reputations have been made, enhanced and broken too.

In 1838 a local man named William Clarke married the landlady of the (now world famous) Trent Bridge Inn. Being both a cricketing fellow and an entrepreneur Clarke developed both interests.  He became landlord of another famous city watering hole The Bell in Market Square and along the way he founded Nottinghamshire Cricket Club. Acquiring the meadow behind The Trent Bridge Inn he opened the ground for play on 28^th May 1838. The first inter county match at Trent Bridge was against Sussex two years later and the first Test Match against Australia in 1899.

My first memory of Trent Bridge was attending, amongst a crowd of 25,000, the 1955 Test Match against South Africa with my father. Having only played myself on The Forest (and regular beach cricket at Sutton on Sea) I was enthralled with the size of the ground, the brilliant green sward and the ancient pavilion. I don’t remember the play or who won. (Apparently I saw Frank Tyson take 6-28 and Peter May bat).

Next, and I do remember this; some idle days later that decade spent scoring county matches from the western stand. The team included a West Indian fast bowler named Carlton Forbes. He had a magnificent physique. His glistening skin reflected the green grass as he thundered in to bowl. His skill was awesome but how strange to make a living mostly in front of meagre crowds.

A summer holidays in1959 spent in the indoor nets at Trent Bridge proved ultimately to be non-productive for me, when the next year tennis and golf took precedence. Yet I got to face bowlers from the Notts coaching staff and I was happy.

In 1972 we were spellbound by both the magic of an unknown Aussie called Bob Massie and the speed and aggression of one Dennis Lillee. Paying spectators could, by now, drink beer all day at Trent Bridge; and we did; and Australia crushed England.

A Randall
bat

Friday 29^th July 1977 is one of the worst days of my sporting life. Here is the scene: Trent Bridge is full. The local hero, Derek Randall, is making his Bridge Test debut. England are batting on the second day of a Test Match against Australia. I am there. What could be better? In the first hour the cricket is dull, the crowd is subdued. A wicket falls. A murmur around the ground rises to a crescendo before bursting to loud cheering and hollering. Randall walks to the crease, our hearts uplifted and racing. This is pure heaven - partisanship in full flow – but who in the ground does not wish him a hundred? What happens when Randall is on 13 is apocryphal. (Wherever I travel in the globe, cricket fans of a certain age still commiserate with me). Horror show, appalling silence, disbelief, anger and a crumpled crowd whose dreams of a few minutes before are shattered. A Yorkshireman is to blame.

1993, the Aussies are here again. Elder son is deep into swotting for A-level exams, which are getting on top of him. What should we do? Go to Trent Bridge of course and pour beer down the lad as he tries to forget his studies and release the tension of the classroom – just like his grandfather seventy-two years before. I don’t remember the play much but as ever, there is little more agreeable in summer than watching the world’s best cricket unfolding live in front of your eyes, pint in hand, and enthusing the next generation.

2012 we basked in sunshine at the Bridge once again as Andrew Strauss made his twenty-first and last century for England. Then, a year later, more Trent Bridge drama. I still enjoy a mischievous smile at the memory of Stuart Broad’s bravado. He refused to walk after being incorrectly given not out to a decisive wicket-taking ball. How delicious it is to conjure up images of the Aussie fielders blowing gaskets and carrying a grudge away from the match. Two years on it is Stuart again with his mesmerising 8-15 against more Aussies. Oh, what joy, what theatre it all has been!

A science fiction backdrop

A sporting arena is not like other landscapes. When devoid of players and spectators, Trent Bridge is an eerie place, even uninviting. The deserted stands are like a backdrop to a science fiction film. On quiet winter nights the ghosts of former players and managers flit in and out of the alleys around the red brick buildings at the western end. The ghosts include Walter Marshall, coach to the players from 1897 to 1914 who stayed on as a groundsman. He gave so many years to the club he was still there by the Second World War. The committee tried to get rid of him due to his age but they failed, he was a component of the club. Another ghost is Harry Dalling. Harry was exceptional amongst cricket ground managers in that he welcomed everyone to his place. He created an atmosphere of inclusiveness for all lovers of the game and its traditions. This was not the case at other grounds.

Up until 1948 the club first team was made up purely of Nottinghamshire men. In that team of ’21 were seasoned players with years of service for Notts under there belts. Trent Bridge, ground and club, was central to their lives. They were not going to be separated easily. It was difficult for young men to get into the side.

When Joe Hardstaff finally managed to gain a place in the first team he arrived early at Trent Bridge and crept nervously into the home side’s changing-rooms. Fred Barratt was there before him. ‘Where should I put my bag Mr. Barratt?’ he asked. “Over theer,” Fred Barratt growled, indicating a spot beside the door through which the young man had just come. ‘Then thou’l’t be soonest out o’bleddy door. *

Another famous servant of Trent Bridge was groundsman Ron Allsopp. He did not start out as a man of the soil; earlier in life he made bicycles at the city’s Raleigh works. Yet he yearned to work outdoors, he had an interest in turf. Brought to the club after Frank Dalling retired Ron achieved fame and notoriety in the 1980s. Twice earning the accolade of groundsman of the year, and the ire of opposing teams, Ron cultivated pitches to exploit the talent of bowlers Clive Rice and Richard Hadlee.

Ken Taylor is a further, happy and contented Trent Bridge ghost that I found in the shadows. He was appointed one of the first professional managers at a county club in 1978 and assembled a team of brilliant yet strong-minded characters that won the championship in the ‘80s. Peter Wynne-Thomas (Nottinghamshire CCC President, author, librarian and possessor of all cricket knowledge) says: “Ken Taylor was the most brilliant manager I ever encountered.”

The ghosts of  Trent Bridge

An intriguing ghost is that of Eddie Marshall who started the supporters’ club after the Second World War. He ran a timber business and later was responsible for bringing Garfield Sobers from Barbados to Trent Bridge – one more Notts legend was created. Dick Milnes was a chairman and president of Notts CCC and a notable city businessman being company secretary at Boots. He enthused Peter Wynne-Thomas to start a library which today houses the second largest collection of books on cricket in the world. (It has one more after my latest visit). Peter’s idols are Joe Hardstaff Jnr and Bill Voce (the latter a name to send shivers down an Aussie’s spine along with a Trent Bridge favourite, Harold Larwood). Many former players still visited the ground to chat with younger players and anyone they met who shared a love of the ground. The place has this effect on people.

Trent Bridge is not only one of the best Test Match grounds in the world but also one of the most approachable and friendliest. In the last century, cricket grounds tended to be administered by gruff and conservative ex-military types who shunned innovation and warded off visitors and away teams. Peter Wynne-Thomas and his contemporaries strive successfully to adopt Harry Dalling’s philosophy and style in welcoming all and celebrating the game.

For 180 years a former meadow has - in summertime only and for one, three or five days at a time - drawn ordinary people to an arena and exposed them to drama. New pages of sporting history have been written; blood, sweat and tears have been spilled and then the people have been sent out on to the street to get on with their lives. Being a Nottingham lad I still get my sporting adrenaline rush from either a winter visit to the library or a day drinking beer sat on a hard white seat watching the world’s best players. The landscape set out before spectators is contrived and unnatural save the grassy square. Yet this strange field captivates cricket aficionados from across the world and draws them in to debate the game’s characters, traditions, its challenges and its future.

And what happened to that black autograph book? That is a mystery. It was given to a former Notts and England captain to add to the Trent Bridge archive but it never arrived. A piece of detective work is unfolding and one day the book may come to light and take its place at the hallowed place simply called Trent Bridge.

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* From The Trent Bridge Battery, the Story of the Sporting Gunns by Basil Haynes & John Lucas.

I am very grateful to Peter Wynne-Thomas who on two occasions has shared with me his immense knowledge of the good, the bad and the ugly of the wonderful game at Trent Bridge. The game and the ground have enriched lives. They continue to do so.