Sunday League Memories

Lazy John Player League Sunday Afternoon

Matt Owen looks back at his formative years as a cricket fan in the 1970s, when the Sunday League provided his salvation.  

Back in the days before multi-camera coverage, Hawkeye and Michael Vaughan, cricket on TV was a less frenetic and more agreeable experience. People hit sixes (not as many, granted) as opposed to “maximums” and commentators were more inclined to let the pictures speak for themselves instead of banging on about golfing handicaps and which 5-star restaurant they’d been to the night before.

The first year I properly got into cricket was the never-ending summer of 1976 (not as never-ending as the documentaries about the never-ending summer of 1976). In fact, it was so never-ending Harold Wilson appointed a Minister of Drought. This being Britain, as soon as he was appointed, it absolutely lashed it down and thus he was dubbed by the Fleet Street wags the “Minister For Rain”. Oh, how we laughed.

Cricket was almost exclusively the BBC’s back then, apart from the odd match covered by regional ITV channels such as Yorkshire TV, Granada and Southern along with BBC Wales. I used to get very excited when visiting my cousin in North Wales during the holidays, chiefly because of the different regional TV variations. Yeah, yeah Snowdonia’s magnificent, rugged mountainous backdrops, but look! HTV Wales have got Thunderbirds and Gus Honeybun scheduled, instead of Farmhouse Kitchen. They also had Granada which covered Roses matches. I spent most of my days on those holidays watching the cricket, avoiding relatives and not bothering to visit the overrated Portmeirion.

The BBC had rights to all the Test Matches back then, and all the domestic one-day competitions (John Player League, Gillette Cup, B&H Cup). The John Player League was the regular slice of cricket you were dished up every summer Sunday.

The first ever first-class game I saw was a Sussex v Lancashire Sunday League game. Clive Lloyd smashed some car windows and Harry Pilling was very small. Those were my chief take-aways. I really didn’t have much time for my home county Sussex, chiefly because of their shithousing of Tony Greig over the Packer affair. There was generally something a bit “Meh!” about them as a team. Even the interesting one, John Snow, let himself down by writing terrible poetry. So that was that. No, the team for me was Somerset – chiefly because of Viv [Richards], the Gorilla [Ian Botham] and some very pleasant family holidays in that corner of the woods.

The John Player League is at the heart of one of my earliest cricket-related traumas. The final knockings of the 1978 season saw Somerset challenging for their first titles – the Gillette Cup and the John Player League. The Gillette Cup Final was played on the first Saturday of September. At the risk of sounding exactly what I am – a miserable old sod - I preferred the old-school English cricket season. You knew where you stood. First Test, week two of June, last Test The Oval end of August; B&H Final first week in July; Gillette Final, then the JPL to finish up. Nowadays it’s four-day Championship games in February; Test Matches in March and 37 weeks of T20 with the Final played in November. I despair.

Back to the traumatic weekend. Sussex played Somerset in the Gillette Final and, oh my word, to say it left a deep wound would be a huge understatement. I happened across the game on YouTube the other week, and even now I have to say the pain inflicted is right up there with listening to five minutes of Danny Morrison’s horrific intonation. A devastated Somerset team walked away with their tail between their legs, beaten by – and it pains me to say this - the better team on the day.

The following day’s Sunday League game would surely bring about redemption for the mighty Somerset. I rushed my Sunday roast and settled down for what would assuredly be a walk in the park. We were playing Essex who, like us, had won the sum total of bugger-all in their entire playing history. We had Ian, Viv and The Demon of Frome (Colin Dredge). It’s in the bag, I thought to myself.

The BBC’s coverage of the John Player League is still my absolute favourite. It should be a sports broadcaster’s template for the summer game. A million miles away from BT Sports Ashes coverage which had more bantz per square inch than a load of GUYS on a stag month in Prague.

John Arlott would do the first 20 of the team’s allotted 40 overs. Sometimes he’d say bugger-all for an entire over, unless there was a wicket, and even that was only a gruff “Oh, and he’s out”. He also used to say, “Over-limit cricket”, instead of “limited-over cricket”, which showed a healthy disdain for it all. I can imagine him polishing off a bottle of claret behind the mic as he watched Barry Richards smack Intikhab Alam to all parts.

Arlott was then followed by the laconic Jim Laker who, when he wasn’t observing “That’s as good a shot as we’ve seen all day”, was moaning about over-rates - “An absolute disgrace”. He wasn’t too keen on fancy-dans, either – “That’s a bit flash for my liking”, his observation about Viv Richards getting out after The Great Man had notched up a hefty 800 runs in a Test series.  

To complete the misery of the final weekend of that gut-wrenching 1978 season, Somerset managed to lose to Essex by a narrow two-run margin. It wasn’t in the bag, after all. On top of that second crushing loss in as many days, there was also the prospect of Sundays minus the only thing that made the worst day of the week bearable – the cricket. The days would soon be drawing in and from now until April, Sundays would comprise of Stars On Sunday, The Onedin Line and wishing I had a three-hour dental appointment instead of going to school the next day.

Matt Owen (www.Mathew-Owen.co.uk) is a freelance writer, with credits including Al Murray, Lenny Henry, Private Eye and Danger Mouse.