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Close, Howard Cooper, Colin Cowdrey, Andrew Dalton, Mike Denness, Ted Dexter, Keith Fletcher, Norman Gifford, Graham Gooch, David Gower, Tony Greig, Tom Graveney, Frank Hayes, Simon Hughes, Robin Jackman, Paul Jarvis, Peter Kippax, John Lever, Peter Lever, Tony Lewis, David Lloyd, Brian Luckhurst, Richard Lumb, Mark Nicholas, Jim Parks, Pat Pocock, Graham Roope, Kevin Sharp, Mike Smedley, M.J.K. Smith, Robin Smith, Don Shepherd, Ken Taylor, Bernie Thomas, Derek Underwood, Peter Willey, Don Wilson.

      Apart from ex-cricketers, many other figures in the media also contributed, as follows: Peter Baxter, Dave Bowden, Max Clifford, Charles Colvile, John Etheridge, Gary Francis, Alan Griffiths, Kelvin MacKenzie, Steve Pierson and Bill Sinrich, plus some who wished to remain nameless.

      I would also like to thank the members of Boycott’s circle of friends and family who assisted with this project: Philip Ackroyd, Peter Boycott, Peter Briggs, John Callaghan, Alice Harratt, Ted Lester, Lord MacLaurin, Albert Speight, Rachael Swinglehurst, Tony Vann, and Shirley Western. Invaluable memories of Boycott’s youth and schooldays were provided by: Des Barrick, Bernard Conway, Bernard Crapper, Eddie Hambleton, Arthur Hollingsworth, Roland Howcroft, Peter Jordan, Terry McCroakham, Terry Newitt, Ken Sale, and Dudley Taylor. I am particularly appreciative of the help that George Hepworth and Malcolm Tate gave me. My many requests for advice and information were always treated with the greatest courtesy. In addition, Sid Fielden showed me the kindest hospitality during a day’s visit to Headingley.

      Others who kindly provided assistance and interviews were: Sarah Cook, Alf Evans, Mike Fatkin, Martin Gray, Nigel Grimes, Keith Hayhurst, Councillor Brian Hazell, Brian Holling, Doug Lloyd, Eric Loxton, Keith Rogers, Keith Stevenson and Barrie Wathen. I am grateful to the staff at the Daily Mail, the Yorkshire Post, and the Westminster Reference Library for helping with newspaper research. Chris Dancy in the BBC archives and Stephen Green at the MCC Library were generous with their time, while Brooke Sinclair and James Perry provided a host of unique insights. The first edition of this book would not have been possible without the backing of the excellent staff at the Partridge Press, especially Patrick Jenson-Smith, Alison Barrow, Katrina Whone, Sheila Lee and Elizabeth Dobson. I was also privileged to have as an editor Adam Sisman, a distinguished, award-winning author in his own right. For this edition, I am grateful to Michael Doggart, Tom Whiting, and the rest of the team at HarperCollins. Thanks also to Paul Dyson for his excellent and original statistical appendix, and to David Hooper for his legal advice.

      Finally I would like to thank my wife Elizabeth for her wise counsel and wonderful support during the long months in which Boycs appeared to dominate my every waking thought.

      A NOTE ON NOMENCLATURE: Geoffrey Boycott is universally known throughout the cricket world as ‘Boycs’, though this is occasionally spelt ‘Boyks’ or even, in Mike Gatting’s autobiography, ‘Boyx’. His other main nickname has been ‘Fiery’, which Boycott says was first used during the South African tour of 1964/65 and is a contraction of ‘Geof-fiery’. It was coined, he believes, because he came from the same county as ‘Fiery’ Fred Trueman, though many have maintained that it referred ironically to his dour batting and public demeanour, just as Chris Tavare was known as ‘Rowdy’.

      Alternatively, others have said it reflects his quick tongue and temper. The name was generally only used by fellow Test cricketers and never had much currency in Yorkshire. Amongst his followers, GLY (Greatest Living Yorkshireman) or Sir Geoffrey are deemed more suitable.

       1 A Contradictory Personality

      Wednesday 21 July 1999: Geoffrey Boycott attends an early evening reception at a restaurant in central London where he is one of the guests of honour for the launch of the Federation of International Cricketer Associations’ new Hall of Fame. Accompanied by his partner Rachael Swinglehurst, he moves amiably through the gathering, sipping from his glass of champagne and indulging in banter with some of the other guests. Then, in the central ceremony of the evening, he is summoned by the former England batsman Tom Graveney on to a stage to accept his induction into the Hall of Fame. In a polished acceptance speech, mixing modesty, humour and charm in equal measure, he describes Tom Graveney as his boyhood hero and pays fulsome tributes to Ian Botham and Fred Trueman, the two other guests of honour.

      Anyone watching this performance who did not know of Boycott’s reputation would have thought he was one of the most gracious and popular figures in the cricket world. There was no inkling of the festering animosity that has long characterized his relationships with Botham and Trueman, no sign of his notorious boorishness, no evidence of his supposed inability to socialize with others.

      22 January 1998: Geoffrey Boycott attends a press conference in central London, where he gives his response to the decision of a French court to convict him of assaulting his former girlfriend Margaret Moore. With his position as a media sports star under threat as a result of the £5,100 fine and three-month suspended jail sentence, Boycott decides to go on the offensive. Bristling with indignation, he denounces Ms Moore, accusing her of telling lies about the incident and claiming that she is out to destroy him because he refused to marry her. As journalists begin to question his account, Boycott slips into the belligerent tone so well known by colleagues from broadcasting and cricket. ‘Shut up,’ he tells one reporter, ‘this is my conference, not yours.’ Finally, there is a collective admonition for the press: ‘I am a public figure and the only people I have to answer to are the public, no one else.’

      Alec Bedser, who saw the best and worst of Boycott during his 13 years as chairman of England’s Test selectors, once spoke of the Yorkshireman’s ‘enigmatic and contradictory personality’. And these two events, the champagne reception and the stormy press conference, encapsulate the different sides of Boycott’s character. On one hand, there is the brilliantly successful cricketing figure – in his time the greatest run-scorer in the history of Test matches and, after his retirement from the playing arena, a commentator in demand throughout the world – relaxed, affable and generous when basking in the recognition of his achievements. On the other hand, there is the sorry figure with the tangled web of personal relationships and the reputation for selfishness and bad manners, who, in the words of one former England cricketer, ‘has left a trail of social wreckage across the cricket world’.

      In a rare moment of self-analysis, Boycott once admitted to being baffled by his own contradictions. During an appearance on the BBC radio programme In the Psychiatrist’s Chair, he told Professor Anthony Clare: ‘We are like diamonds. There are so many facets to the diamond and you cannot tell why it glows on one side and why it doesn’t on the other. Like me, I don’t always understand myself.’ We all, of course, have different, often conflicting, aspects to our personalities. Yet for Geoff Boycott the contrasts are much stronger than for others. He is an intensely private man who has lived his entire adult life in the fiercest public gaze. Indeed, almost two decades after he played his final Test, he is still probably the most famous name in English cricket, though many colleagues who have played and commentated with him say that they hardly know him. He has developed an image of self-confidence bordering on arrogance, yet possesses a streak of almost chronic insecurity.

      He craves respect yet, through his behaviour, continually alienates those who might provide it. Even his admirers admit that his extreme moodiness and introspection make him something of a Jekyll and Hyde character. Fellow England star and broadcaster David Gower says, ‘He has the ability to be extremely charming, and an equal ability to be a complete sod.’ Peter Willey, the Test umpire and an England colleague of Boycott’s, told me: ‘Some days he won’t seem interested, then on others he will sit down and talk for hours. He is definitely a split personality – and it’s just a shame that the good side has not come out more.’ Brutally frank in his opinions of others, Boycott can be overly sensitive of any criticism fired in his direction. His career has been littered with the debris of constant feuds and rows. As Derek Hodgson wrote in Wisden on his retirement from cricket: ‘He has a facility for making enemies much faster than he made runs.’ Always a loner, he revels in the adulation of the crowd, whether as a media star in Calcutta or a century-maker in Leeds. He has displayed great inner strength during his rise to the top but is so emotional

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