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       7 ‘Why the Hell Didn’t He Do That Before?’

      It is one of the many paradoxes of Boycott’s career that his greatest domestic innings should have also become a millstone round his neck. His volcanic 146 at Lord’s in the 1965 Gillette Cup final against Surrey, where he displayed every stroke on an awkward pitch and a damp outfield, was cited as an example of the way Boycott could play if the mood took him. From 1965 onwards every act of stonewalling was compared by his detractors to that exhilarating knock.

      ‘He was fantastic that day,’ says Don Wilson. ‘All of a sudden he was hitting the ball over mid-off and mid-on. We had never seen him lift the ball in the air in our lives. The shots he played were phenomenal. As he came off, the noise was amazing. Every person on the ground stood and applauded him. I couldn’t believe this was happening at Lord’s, normally a sedate place. The trouble is, people were asking, “Why the hell didn’t he do that before?”’

      Boycott’s innings was all the more extraordinary because it took place at the end of a disappointing season for him, which saw him lose his place in the England side and fail to score a first-class century. After almost two years of rapid advance, Boycott’s progress in professional cricket ground to a halt. True, he topped the averages once more for Yorkshire, but this time with a figure of just 34.88 from 942 runs. Overall he fell from fifth to fifteenth in the national averages, with 1447 runs at 35.92.

      In the Test matches his final record was equally modest. This was the first summer in which England hosted twin series, with New Zealand and South Africa the visitors. In the opening Test of the season, against New Zealand at Edgbaston, Boycott hit 23 and 44 not out in a nine-wicket victory, though the two main talking points were the icy weather – hot drinks had to be served twice during the second day – and Ken Barrington’s painfully slow century. His 137 took 437 minutes, including an excruciating spell when he remained on 85 for 20 overs. As a result of his stagnation, he was dropped for the second Test as a punishment, exactly the same fate Boycott suffered two years later over his perceived tardiness in compiling a double century against India. ‘Brighter cricket’ was the slogan taken up at this time by the English cricket authorities, worried by dwindling gates and declining popularity. It is telling that Boycott and Barrington should have the same cautious, hard-nosed approach to batting. Both had had a tough upbringing – Barrington was the son of a soldier and first worked in a garage – which compelled them to eschew frivolity and to treat their chosen profession more seriously than most.

      Boycott played an important role in England’s victory in the second Test at Lord’s, scoring 76 as England went after a target of 215 in the final innings. They won by seven wickets with only fifteen minutes to spare, their run-chase made more difficult by the loss of five hours through rain on the last two days. Having missed the third Test at Headingley due to a shoulder injury – his replacement John Edrich hit a record-breaking 310 not out – Boycott returned against South Africa at Lord’s. But the Yorkshire opener was unable to re-establish his rhythm, scoring 31 and then a wretched 28 in 105 minutes in the second innings as England struggled to a draw after being set only 191 in four hours. Following the Barrington precedent, there was talk of dropping Boycott as a disciplinary measure, with some outspoken critics even arguing that his innings had cost England victory. In an interview with the Daily Express, Boycott explained his philosophy of batting: ‘If the selectors want to drop me, that’s their business. I am not the world’s greatest cricketer. I never will be. But I think I am good enough to open for Yorkshire and England. If I am going on playing for England my attitude to opening the innings will not change. I simply believe the job of the opener is to knock the shine off the new ball by cracking it solidly in the middle and trickling the runs along without taking swipes or risks.’

      The selectors reprieved Boycott, but not for long. In the second Test at Trent Bridge, though he did some useful bowling – in one spell in South Africa’s second innings he delivered 19 overs for just 25 runs – he gave another dismal performance with the bat. Out for a duck in the first innings, he was almost strokeless in the second as England wickets fell all around him. After two hours 20 minutes at the crease for just 16 runs, he was finally bowled by left-arm spinner Athol McKinnon. Even the normally measured tones of Wisden described this as a ‘dreadful effort when courage was needed’.

      Boycott’s sacking was now inevitable, and for the final Test at the Oval he was replaced by Eric Russell of Middlesex. But the selectors were not so disillusioned as to exclude him from the MCC party for the Ashes tour to Australia that winter, and was picked along with three other openers: Barber, Edrich and Russell. Not all the press were happy about the Yorkshireman’s methods. J. J. Warr (who played his only two Tests as a Cambridge undergraduate on the 1950/51 tour) wrote in the Cricketer: ‘Boycott has transformed the admirable quality of determination into a fetish. Every wicket he plays on is made to look difficult and batsmen later on in the order frequently get themselves out trying to compensate for his slowness. His second innings at Nottingham was exquisitely painful to watch.’

      There could hardly have been a more thundering riposte to such comments than Boycott’s legendary Gillette innings in September. As with so many matches in the 1965 season, the final was played in damp conditions that were expected to help the bowlers. With his usual vividness, Don Wilson described to me the build-up to the game: ‘We set off from Scarborough the day before in torrential rain. By the time we got to Lord’s to leave off our bags that evening, the ground was saturated. Lord’s used to have the Tavern pub at the bottom of the slope, with some white railings in front of it. And I can tell you, the water had reached the top of those railings. It seemed that there was no way that Yorkshire, or anybody, were going to play in any final the next day.’ That night, the entire Yorkshire team – apart from Boycott, of course – set off for a night of revelry in the West End, starting with The Black and White Minstrel Show at the Victoria Palace and ending in Snow’s Hotel on the Cromwell Road. But the next morning, there was blazing sunshine and the only sign of the heavy rain the night before was the bags of sawdust everywhere. Wilson recalls: ‘We had quite a few hangovers round the dressing room. To our horror, we were told that play would soon be under way.’

      Fortunately for the groggy players, Surrey won the toss and put Yorkshire in to bat. Unsurprisingly, given the wetness of the outfield and the quality of the new-ball bowling from David Syndenham and Geoff Arnold, openers Boycott and Ken Taylor made a sluggish beginning. Only 20 runs had been scored from 12 overs, when the first wicket, Taylor’s, fell. This start was what Surrey supporters had predicted. It was joked at the Oval that all their team had to do to lift the trophy was to keep Boycott batting at one end. But the game was transformed when Yorkshire captain Brian Close strode to the wicket. Suddenly, quick singles were taken, then Boycott began to hit out all around him, despatching Syndenham over square leg and driving Arnold straight for six into the pavilion. By the end of his innings of 146 he had hit three sixes and 19 fours, putting on 192 with Brian Close and ensuring that Yorkshire had made an unassailable total of 317 for 4. With Ray Illingworth taking 5 for 29, Surrey were shot out for just 142. As Yorkshire picked up their first limited-overs trophy, Boycott was the only possible choice for the Man of the Match award.

      Boycott has always emphatically denied the claim that it was a lecture from Close, delivered on his arrival at the crease, that galvanized him into action. In his Autobiography he wrote: ‘So far as I am concerned, at no time did Close tell me to get on with it, or anything remotely similar. The myth about my attitude and motivation that day supports the image of a bold, decisive captain dominating a reluctant subordinate by the force of his personality – but not once did he threaten or cajole me into playing

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