Harold Larwood
batsman, Oldfield had reached 40 with a leg glance off Larwood that went
for 4, so Larwood dropped the next one short. Attempting to hook it,
Oldfield mistimed it and was struck on the right side of the temple. All
hell broke loose. Larwood, frightened that the injury might be serious,
ran up to the crumpled figure. 'I'm sorry, Bertie,' he said. The plucky
little wicket-keeper tried to collect himself and mumbled: 'It's not
your fault, Harold.' An X-ray later revealed that Oldfield had suffered
a fractured skull.
The crowd's anger exploded. 'Go home, you Pommie bastards!' they yelled
as Woodfull assisted Oldfield from the field. The match continued amid a
storm of barracking and abuse.
At the end of the day's play, police protection was offered to Larwood
but big Bill Voce told them: 'Don't worry, we'll look after him.' '
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'On the last day but one of the Test(Adelaide Test of Bodyline series)
, Larwood received a telegram from Archie Jackson as he lay dying from a
chest complaint in a Brisbane private hospital: 'Congratulations -
magnificent bowling. Good luck - all matches, Archie Jackson.' This was
the same Archie Jackson, acknowledged in Australia as the greatest
master batsman since Trumper, who had taken a bruising and stood up to
Harold's bowling on a rain-affected pitch at the Oval in 1930.
-------------------------------------------------------------
'The Sydney Cricket Ground was packed to capacity for the last Test and
after nearly two days in the field England finally dismissed Australia
on a fast wicket. Though Larwood had sweated to take 4 for 98 off 32
overs Jardine asked him to bat as night watchman. 'This isn't fair,'
Larwood objected.
Jardine insisted and the fast bowler went out to bat (pictured right) in
a temper, survived until the next day, then batted on spleen, attacking
the bowling with gusto. Fast bowler Bull Alexander kept bumping them
down at him while the 'Hill' egged him on: 'Knock his bloody head off,
Bull!' One ball grazed his nose and when a fielder remarked that it was
a close one, Larwood casually replied: 'Not really, I had time to count
its stitches.'
After scoring 98, including a 6, a 5 and nine 4's, the spectators,
including all of the 'Hill', stood and cheered him off. The Australians
may be good barrackers but they do appreciate good cricket. Larwood
later learned that Jardine wanted him to bat early in order to give him
a good rest before bowling. He just didn't explain it to Harold.
----------------------------------------------------------------
'I'll tell you about that 'Silent Killer' nickname I gave him. I used to
field at cover point and as Loll came up on that smooth, carpet-slipper
run of his, and I moved in to the batsmen I used to listen hard - to
find out what kind of delivery he was going to bowl. If I could hear his
feet tip-tapping over the turf I knew he would be well within himself -
he would still be quick, mind.
But when I couldn't hear him running up I used to look at the batsman
and think: 'You're a split second away from trouble, son,' because I
knew that Loll was coming in on his toes and he was going to let slip
the fastest he'd got.'
Joe Hardstaff Jnr. - Notts. and England
-------------------------------------------------------------
When Leicester take the field against Notts, Harry Smith likes the look
of the wicket and tells his skipper: 'S-s-skipper, I think I'll
b-b-bounce one or two.' Harry had a bit of a stutter. 'Wait a minute,'
says the captain, 'they've got Larwood and Voce.'
'I'll just b-b-bounce one or two,' says Harry. So he bounces one or two
and Notts don't like it. Before the end of the day, Leicester go in to
bat and Larwood and Voce bowl them over like tin soldiers. Harry soon
finds himself at the wicket. Larwood and Voce go for him and he's never
seen so many balls bouncing around his ears. Suddenly he gets a touch
and Sam Staples catches him at second slip. Harry takes off his gloves
and walks. 'Wait a minute,' says Sam, 'it was a bump ball. I didn't
catch it!'
'Yes, you b-b-loody-well did,' says Harry, and he's back in the pavilion
before you can say Jack Robinson.
--------------------------------------------------------
"At the age of 17, I was promoted to the village's first team. Bowling
in sandshoes because I didn't own a pair of boots, I sent down 20 overs
during the match, even though I'd worked down the mine all the previous
night.'
'I remember the game as if it were last week. After a few overs my nose began to bleed. Team mates, men they were , urged me to leave the field. I refused and kept on bowling. Down the mine I reamed of cricket; I bowled imaginery balls in the dark; I sent the stumps spinning and heard them rattling in the tunnels. No mishap was going to stop me from bowling in the real game, especially this one.'
'My nose bled worse than ever, spattering my shirt. I was again advised
to go off but I continued to bowl. Then a ball caught the middle stump. My next delivery scattered the incoming batsman's wicket. Although feeling a bit weak by now I got ready for one more, and hit the off stump. It was my first hat-trick.'
'Cricket was my reason for living.'
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