by County Cricket and League Football as Occupations in the 1960s: An
Insider's View
Ian Hall
'.... After playing for Derbyshire Juniors and a couple of Club &
Ground matches in the 1958 season. I was offered a contract at ?9 per
week for 20 weeks, to join the Derbyshire staff for the following
season. The problem was that I had been offered a place at
Loughborough College of Education, starting in September 1958. In
effect, the choice was straightforward - ?180 + risk, versus teacher
training and security. My debut for Derbyshire was at Lords in early
1959. A few weeks ago Derbyshire 2nd XI stayed at the spectacular
4-star Scandic Crown Hotel in London's Docklands for the three-day
match against Surrey 2nd XI at the Oval. Several of the players
travelled there in sponsored cars. On Friday 29th May 1959, I caught
the early morning train from Chesterfield to St. Pancras, lugging my
big old fashioned cricket bag, which I had bought for ?5 from Charles
Elliot, the former Derbyshire player and Test Match umpire. Charlie,
himself, had bought if off Jack Hobbs before the War. The 1st team
were playing at Swansea and wo uld be travelling up that Friday
evening. I was to meet them at a small hotel just round the corner
from Lords.
If the demarcation lines between amateurs and professionals had
loosened by 1959, the different status of professional cricketers
within the game was strictly adhered to. In my Jack Hobbs bag there
was a plain, white, long sleeved sweater, the only sweater I
possessed. To obtain a 2nd XI sweater, one had to have gained a 2nd XI
cap and, having only played four or five games, I had not done so. At
that time, if you were awarded your county ca p - 1st XI, or 2nd XI -
you were presented with it and could choose either a long, or
sleeveless sweater. Additional ones had to be paid for. I had neither.
Here I was, aged 19, playing at Lords and green as the grass on the
square of the village club at Cromford Meadows. That was where I
usually played cricket on Saturdays.
Fortunately, the day was warm and sweaters were not needed.
Introductions were, because as one of 11 junior groundstaff boys, I
had, literally, only spoken a few words to one or two of the senior
players; our paths had hardly crossed. One reason was that the
groundstaff room at Derby was shared with the groundsman, Walter
Goodyear, who ate groundstaff boys for breakfast and warned them of
the dangers of getting above one's station in life. Had we ever need
to go to the 1st team dressing room, we had to knock on the door,
before being invited in. It was quite a forbidding experience for
young players. The whole system was based on knowing one's place.
I found out more about knowing my place when I entered the visitors'
dressing room at Lords and hung my jacket on a peg in the corner.
George Dawkes, the senior professional, then gave me a severe
`dressing down' for*** my jacket on Les Jackson's peg, who had
changed there for the past 10 years. Les, who finished his career with
more than 1700 wickets at an average of 17.1 per wicket, was one of
the truly great fast medium bowlers. He had broad shoulders and so I
moved my jacket elsewhere - and quickly.
George was a kindly man, who played for Leicestershire as a 16 year
old wicketkeeper before the War. I suppose he understood some of my
apprehensions, but that didn't prevent him from giving me another
`dressing down' when I signed my name in the vacant space in the top
left hand corner of the autograph books, which were lying on the
dressing room table. That space, George informed me, was reserved for
the captain's signature. Two `dressing downs' and the start of the
match was still half an hour away. I had entered a world of ritual and
convention about which I was totally innocent. I expect it was only
like starting any new job, but I was very relieved when we eventually
went out to field.
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