Test of time

I first walked into the Oval as a small boy in the early 1950s. My family home was in Brixton, only a few minutes from the ground. More than 60 years later, those early memories are still vivid. I sat on what were then very uncomfortable wooden benches with sandwiches, an apple and a bottle of Tizer. On my lap was a schoolboy scorebook in which I recorded every run. The Surrey team that won the championship for seven years in a row held me transfixed. I still believe they were the greatest county side of all time — although Yorkshire would dispute this vigorously.

The team’s supreme bowling attack was led by Alec Bedser — stately as a galleon as he ran up to the crease. His opening partner Peter Loader was as thin as a rail and fast as a whippet. To supplement this formidable pair, Surrey had the spin duo of Lock and Laker. When Bert Lock, the groundsman (no relation), swept the wicket between innings, the crowd held its breath to see if the dust rose: if it did, signalling a field day for the spinners, they licked their lips in anticipation. The prevailing wisdom was that if Lock didn’t get them, Laker would.

Surrey also had Peter May, the finest English batsman I have ever seen. One day I borrowed my father’s gold stopwatch, his most prized possession, to time the seconds it took for a May on-drive to hit the boundary pickets. But as I pressed the stop button, the watch slipped from my grasp and smashed on the stone terracing.

When I went home to confess my sin, my father, gazing forlornly at the innards of his watch, said very slowly: ‘Tell me about this Peter May.’ So I did, hoping that my evident enthusiasm would mitigate the offence.