Learie Constantine was the first West Indian superstar to light up the English cricket leagues. He drew five-figure crowds to Nelson in the 1930s, steered them to seven Lancashire League titles in nine years and later became the UK’s first black peer.
The way was paved for successive generations of great cricketers from the Caribbean, starting in the 1950s with “The Three Ws”: Everton Weekes averaged a staggering 91.6 across seven years at Bacup; Clyde Walcott had similar success at rivals Enfield; and Frank Worrell, the West Indies’ first black captain, bossed things for Radcliffe in the neighbouring Central Lancashire League, where Sonny Ramadhin was busy bamboozling all-comers.
The stars of the 1960s West Indies teams followed suit. Pace-bowling spearheads Wes Hall and Charlie Griffith tore up the Lancashire League; Lance Gibbs rewarded Whitburn for making him the Durham Senior League’s first £1,000 pro by taking a never-to-be-surpassed 126 wickets; and Rohan Kanhai was prolific everywhere he went, not least Ashington, where the local JD Wetherspoon pub is today named after him.
It was no different for the juggernauts of the 1970s and 1980s. Clive Lloyd had two years in the Lancashire League before the doors of county cricket were thrown open to overseas players in 1968 and he headed down to Old Trafford. His change seamers, Joel Garner at Littleborough and Colin Croft at Royton, brought some chin music to the CLL in the late-1970s, while in 1981 a 27-year-old Michael Holding signed for Rishton and found himself going toe to toe with his new-ball partner Andy Roberts, pro at Haslingden.
Six years later, Viv Richards would also play for Rishton, while Desmond Haynes had spent three summers in the North Yorkshire and South Durham League with Blackhall and Guisborough. His opening sidekick Gordon Greenidge enjoyed late-career seasons for Greenock in Scotland and Leyland of the Northern League, where he was succeeded by Malcolm Marshall.
Of the 1990s stars, a young Curtly Ambrose (Chester Boughton Hall, Heywood) and Courtney Walsh (Tynedale) had educative seasons as club pros, while Richie Richardson and Jimmy Adams both became legendary figures in the Durham Senior League. Even Brian Lara had three games as sub pro for Fleetwood, although they declined to sign him up for the following summer. It is an incredible lineage. Few were those who didn’t come.
And the greatest player of them all was no exception – a guaranteed crowd-puller and gregarious teammate during the eight seasons’ league cricket he had before joining Nottinghamshire in 1968, the final three of which were at Norton in Stoke-on-Trent.
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As with most breakaway competitions, the North Staffordshire & South Cheshire League was cooked up by a cabal of self-interested grandee clubs who didn’t much care for the threat of relegation and so decided instead to form a protectionist, closed-shop structure.
Its inaugural season was 1963, the year the wider cricketing landscape was transformed by the birth of limited-overs cricket in the shape of the Gillette Cup, and among the NSSCL’s dozen founding clubs was Norton, whose enterprising chairman, Tommy Talbot, a local plumbing and decorating magnate, had given his money and thus name to the new entity’s limited-overs cup. That same year, he reached an agreement with Garry Sobers to become Norton’s professional.
It was certainly a coup, although not entirely a shock, for Talbot had also enticed Frank Worrell and Jim Laker to the Potteries. Worrell was introduced to his new teammates on the eve of his first match at a lavish dinner featuring an Al Jolson impersonator singing Mammy, while Laker, having arrived early for his debut and headed out to loosen up, returned to the dressing room to find a policeman’s uniform on what he thought was his peg. “He may have taken 19 wickets in a Test match,” said Norton’s incumbent off-spinner, PC Frank Reynolds, “but nobody nicks my spot”.
Talbot had signed Sobers on a five-year deal worth £50 per week. Ordinarily, a contract of that length might be considered something of a risk; the professional can become a little too comfortable and play in third gear. Was this a wise move from Talbot? Let’s consider the evidence.
At the time, the 26-year-old Sobers had played 42 of his 93 Tests and was averaging a cool 60.9 with the bat, which included a highest score of 365 not out against Pakistan in Jamaica in 1958, a world record that stood for 36 years, all of which was probably a solid tick in the pro’s “pro” column. His Test bowling average was a less spectacular 36.66, which would come down to a tick over 34 by the time he retired – not all-time great stature in itself but, for many a judge, good enough for him to have been selected as a bowler alone, not least because he offered decidedly lively swing, left-arm orthodox and wrist-spin, which Talbot would have been correct in thinking comprised a useful package at club level.
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Another factor to consider was Sobers’ record across his five years as a pro for Radcliffe in the Central Lancashire League. Sure, he had a Test triple-hundred, but would he be able do it on a showery Saturday in Stoke? Talbot would have weighed up the numbers – 5,708 runs at 63.42 and 532 wickets at 11.23, twice achieving the 1,000-run, 100-wicket double – and no doubt reckoned he was on terra firma offering Sobers a five-year deal at Norton. The bona fides stacked up. Very probably, he would do them a job.
Even so, the newly signed Sobers was unable to play that maiden NSSCL season as he was busy touring England with the victorious West Indies, 3-1 winners of the inaugural Wisden Trophy. The famously sweary Australian all-rounder Cec Pepper was instead engaged as pro, playing alongside Sobers’ brother Gerry, a wicket-keeper and hard-hitting batter who would accompany his famous sibling throughout his time in north Staffordshire, although not without some minor stretching of the rules, observes Vince Lindo, the new Jamaican professional of neighbours Sneyd.
“At the time, if you were an amateur, like Gerry was supposed to be, you had to live within a 10-mile radius of your club,” says Lindo. “If you were a professional, you could live anywhere. So, Garry lived in Manchester. And Gerry lived with him. But Tommy Talbot got him a flat on High Lane in Burslem so he could be within 10 miles. Gerry never slept there once. It wasn’t even a flat: it was Tommy Talbot’s office!”
Garry eventually made his entrance in late April 1964, greeted under soupy Potteries skies by a Pathé News crew, to whom he explained he was looking forward to “getting away from the sunshine” in “a class of cricket that had done a lot for me”. The Norton ground was owned by the National Coal Board and, although well appointed, was not much of a looker. Looming over the ground’s northern boundary like a sagging Goth pyramid was a jet-black spoil heap from the Ford Green pit, topped up throughout the day by heavy, rumbling belts.
The Norton faithful’s first sighting of Sobers’ insouciantly upturned collar came during a sprightly 44 on his home debut against Stone, although the game succumbed to the weather not long after tea. The next two Saturdays brought a pair of comfortable wins, setting Norton up nicely for their Talbot Cup first round match, in those days 25 overs each on Sundays or 20 on a weekday, with no restrictions on bowlers’ overs. The game brought Sobers head-to-head with West Indies teammate Wes Hall, who was picking up a cool £60 per week at Great Chell, a fee reflecting three consecutive 100-wicket campaigns for Accrington. Around 1,800 people flocked through the gates at Norton to witness a low-scoring thriller as the visitors fiercely defended a paltry total of 63.
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The previous week’s Evening Sentinel had reported that the future Reverend Hall “bowled with scrupulous fairness, scorning the use of bouncers when a lesser man might have been tempted”, and here again he kept it pitched up to Frank Reynolds as Norton stumbled to 61 for eight in the final over. “My cousin, John Bailey, was wicket-keeper at Chell,” recalls the Norton tailender. “Wes Hall’s run-up was so long that I remember turning round and having a conversation about family matters, what we were doing with the wives the next day. But Wes was bowling fast, and I wasn’t sure where the runs were going to come from. Then he clean-bowled me, and the ball ricocheted to the boundary. But the umpire had called no-ball, so it counted as four byes, and we won the game.”
The teams would lock horns again in the league a fortnight later, when an even bigger crowd of 2,500 turned up at Chell, takings of £160 on the gate and a further £90 in refreshments (over £4,000 in today’s money) providing a welcome boost for a club that had recently built a swanky new pavilion.
Top of the bill, of course, was the Bajan showdown, and the locals didn’t have to wait too long for Sobers’ entrance, which began with him collecting his bat from the upstairs dressing rooms then pitter-pattering in his spikes past a full-sized snooker table and down the shallow steps of a viewing gallery containing three long rows of leather-backed seats, sweeping left from there to the top of a grand staircase that folded back on itself before disgorging him onto a parquet ballroom floor, which he crossed on a rubber mat before another door threw him down a dozen or so concrete steps flanked by rows of wooden-slatted benches on which the members nestled, and then finally out into the arena, with its covered stand down the Western flank. It was the closest thing the Potteries had to Lord’s.
Sobers was soon treating them to those trademark whiplash pull shots and back-foot slaps, bat finishing its mighty arc down by his backside. Watching from the other end as the maestro made 59 was the 21-year-old Dave Brock, who finished unbeaten on 66, an innings from which he was still floating as Sobers’ five for 47 secured a fifth win from five completed games.
“It was a great day,” recalls Brock. “Batting with Garry was marvellous, although he never really gave us advice, other than to play your own game. Wes was very sharp, and even broke my bat. It took me a few months to save up for another. But he bought me a drink at the end of the game and, after someone had popped out to fetch food, we stood and ate tripe and chips at the bar.”
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Tommy Talbot’s investment was paying dividends, on the field and off, the club abuzz with Saturday Afternoon Fever, as Norton’s Peter Gibbs, an Oxford Blue and future Derbyshire opener would later describe in Wisden: “During his seasons with Norton, Worrell was never short of a fan to help carry his kit from the car park, but when Sobers rolled up, a whole troupe of helpers would greet him. One would carry his bag, another his bat, another his pads – all keen to grab a piece of their idol. Thereby unencumbered, the leading man did his ‘Stayin’ Alive’ walk to the pavilion.”
Norton progressed serenely on through that 1964 season, reaching its mid-point with a six-point lead. The format was a decidedly uncomplicated three points for a win and one for a draw, so this was a useful buffer. By the final four games, that six-point advantage over Longton, the next opponent, was still intact.
Pakistan Test spinner Nasim-ul-Ghani’s 31 was the chief contribution to the visitors’ middling score of 118, which left Norton three hours to chase the runs and, with it, almost certainly wrap up the league title. Gibbs opened with Bernard Newton – the former scoring 26 in 111 minutes, the latter 13 in 57 – and the restive home crowd were soon barracking them, reported the Evening Sentinel, as they “let a score of possible singles go begging and their strokes became so rare that each was greeted with ironical cheers. The crowd slow-handclapped and made frequent appeals to the umpires to give them out.”
Gibbs would describe this “impatient heckling” as a “character-building feature of [his] Saturday afternoons” in another Wisden essay, Stars that Shone Beside the Slag Heaps: “After dismissing the opposition for a modest total, and with the pro’s collection box already doing the rounds, Garry had the disconcerting habit of putting his feet up and inviting our first three batsmen to knock off the runs. So together we would nudge and push our way towards victory in the hope of not bothering our star attraction. The crowd, however, were less than delighted. They may have seen Sobers bowl, but they had paid to see him bat as well. In a matter of a few overs we three stooges had outstayed our welcome.”
“Garry would often say, ‘I’ve done my job, now you do yours’. He did what he wanted,” adds Brock. “The captain couldn’t control him and neither could Tommy Talbot. He would often disappear at tea and go for a tot of brandy in the secretary’s office. An attendant would bring him his sandwiches. Tommy made sure he was always looked after. Everyone wanted a piece of him, so he would sit and chat to spectators or reporters. Occasionally he would say, ‘Right, I’ll go in next skipper’ if it was a game against a rival at the top.”
Sobers eventually emerged at No 5 and was “subdued in the poor light” before being caught in the deep off Nasim, who proceeded to whittle through the lower order to finish with seven for 39 as Longton took the final wicket with just three minutes remaining and Norton 11 runs short. The title race was back on, although Norton would have to slip up at least once more in the final three games.
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First up, they took care of Porthill Park, Sobers coming to the party with six for 38 and a cameo unbeaten 19, finishing the game with an enormous six onto the car park. He was back at the party a week later against Nantwich, chipping in with nine for 41 in a 100-run win. Meanwhile, Longton had picked up two wins, although rain would have the anti-climactic last word. Still, Norton were champions. Sobers finished with 549 runs at 49.9 (second behind his brother, who averaged 50.1), and 97 wickets at 8.4 – a league record haul that would stand until 2002, and a full 30 more than the next best.
By the time the Norton team saw their star man again he was West Indies captain, having been hand-picked by Worrell as his successor. He didn’t accept immediately, however, concerned that his leisure habits, tolerated by Worrell, might make a leadership position untenable. Over the summer, he had talked through the ramifications with his Norton skipper, Jim Flannery, and eventually resolved the dilemma by applying the same (uncurfewed) rules to everyone else: a free pass on nocturnal activities, provided they delivered on the field.
It was much the same at Norton, recalls Reynolds: “He enjoyed the nightclubs, like any young man. But he was remarkably fit and was always up to the task of playing cricket, even after a heavy night out on the town, boozing.”
A further treat for the Potteries’ cricketing public in 1965 was the League Cricket Conference’s inaugural inter-league competition, the President’s Cup, sponsored by Rothmans (everything was fags back then). The NSSCL had breezed past the Birmingham, Bolton and Northumberland leagues in the opening rounds, the latter blown away by Wes Hall’s seven for 13, including six for six in his opening spell. By late August, they were in the final against Yorkshire Cricket Council.
The home team had batted first, Sobers falling for 13, a huge disappointment for the estimated 4,500 crowd. Stone’s Paul Shardlow, a goalkeeper at Stoke City, top-scored with 32 in a total of 102 that contained a quintet of ducks. The visitors themselves slipped to 49 for seven, then rallied to 81 for eight before Sobers returned to seal a 20-run win, finishing with five for 10. Champagne corks were popped and the sponsors brought some complimentary product into the victors’ dressing room. “The smokers in the team are probably still wondering where all their free Rothmans fags went,” says Stone seamer Peter Harvey. “A lot of them were upset when Garry quickly shoved them in his kit bag!”
Sobers’ first engagement as Test skipper – a five-match home series against Australia, wrapped up with one to spare – had meant him arriving four weeks late for his sophomore NSSCL season. Norton picked up three wins and a draw in the pro’s absence to set things up nicely for an introduction at home to winless Leek, who soon found themselves in the mire at nine for four.
Enter a teenage Stan Trafford, who eked out two runs in his first 45 minutes at the crease, 51 in the next 45, although not without a mishap or two, recalls teammate Steve Cartledge. “His box was turned inside-out by a pretty sharp delivery from Garry that left a seam mark on impact with his flannels. The repairs that ensued included the box being somewhat restored by repeated hammering with a bat handle. I don’t know about any repairs to Stan’s bits…”
This is an adapted extract from Sticky Dogs and Stardust: When the Legends Played in the Leagues, the Wisden Book of the Year for 2o24. Buy the hardback for £16.00 + p&p (use coupon code GSNSTICKY1 at the checkout) or the ebook for £4.49 (use coupon code GSNSTICKY2) at thenightwatchman.net.
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