A Tribute To Cardus

When Sir Neville Cardus, the greatest Cricket Writer of all times, died (in 1975), Alan Gibson, himself no mean Cricket Writer, said at his memorial service, “all cricket writers of the last half century have been influenced by Cardus, whether they admit it or not, whether they have wished it or not, whether they have tried to copy him or tried to avoid copying him”.

 

The great writer came from a very humble background. Cardus was born in the late Victorian era. His mother was a Manchester prostitute; his father not known to him. His formal education ended very early, he mostly taught himself in the public library and in the streets of Manchester. Fortunately, he got good support from respectable people. After a brief career as a professional cricketer, he joined Shrewsberry School as the cricket coach. There, the headmaster, Cyril Alington, recognized his potential. But his big break was given by C.P. Scott, the editor of Manchester Guardian. After starting there as a theatre critic, Cardus became the cricket correspondence in 1919, and later (in 1927), he also became the principal music critic, although he still held the cricket post. It is somewhat ironical that whlie Cardus himself considered his writings on music as more valueable, he is still (more than 30 years after his death) best remembered as the father of modern cricket literature.

 

The most important thing, which made him a cricket writer, not just a cricket reporter, was his love of the game; and it was a passionate love. He viewed cricket as a part of life, especially the life in the summer. That’s why if the game got boring, he would find interest in the dazzling summer sunshine. If rain stopped the play, he would write about the crowd around him. In his own words, “I have seen English summer days pass like a dream as the cricketers changed places in the field over by over. Sometimes I have seen in vision all the games going on throughout the land at the same minute of high noon;” (The sprit of summer) (1949).

 

As for his writing style, he possibly belonged to the Victorian era. Just as he influenced more than one generation of cricket writers, he himself was much impressed by the Victorian writers, specaily Dickens. Like Dickens, he took great delight in vividly depicting the details of his characters. Of course, his characters were all completely real. He not only described the late cut of Woolley, or the leg cutter of O’Reilly, he talked about the personal qualities or characteristics of each individual cricketer. His settings varied from big Ashes matches, to county fixtures (he specially liked the Roses Match), to school cricket, and to village cricket. Everywhere he found materials (and characters) for his writings. One of his great favorites was Victor Trumper, the Australian eagle. Cardus was only a teenager when Trumper had his most successful tour of England (in 1902). In fact, Trumper died in 1915, even before Cardus started his cricket writing. But Trumper always lived in his memory. As a kid, he was a big fan of Trumper; but also  loyal to his country. So, with the innocence of a child, he would pray to God, for a Trumper hundred, but an England victory. Later he wrote, “The art of Trumper is like the art in a bird’s flight, an art that knows not how wonderful it is. Batting was for him a superb dissipation, a spontaneous spreading of the feathers.” Elsewhere, he compared between Trumper and Bradman by saying “Victor Trumper was the flying bird; Bradman the aeroplane.” He describes Arthur Mailey as the Millionaire, (In ‘The Millionaire of Spin’) (1970) because the Aussie leggie, though a great wicket-taker, was also used to be quite expensive. In comparison, Grimmett was the miser. To Cardus, Keith Miller became more than just Australia’s greatest all rounder.The ‘Playboy’ was described as “his attitude to cricket is almost as obsolete as chivalry.” Not all his characters were grand successes in the field. ‘A Shastbury  Character’ (1956) was about H. Richmond, master of Mathematics at Shastbury, and a great lover of the game. He took his game very seriously, but unfortunately, he always lacked the skills. ‘The Umpire’ (1934) was about the villains of the game, who are only remembered when they make a mistake. “The umpire at cricket is like the geyser in the bathroom: we cannot do without it, yet we notice it only when it is out of order.”

 

Neville Cardus was knighted by the queen in 1967. In 1970-71, he was the president of Lanchashire County Cricket Club. He declined numerous offers to become a member of MCC. He was never a man for the establishemtns. Rather, he was a man of the people, specailly the cricket loving people.

 

I often feel that it is ironical that Sir Neville died in 1975. Because that was the year, when the first world cup (it was called the Prudential World Cup) was held in England. It was only a moderate success, yet things changed completely in the next decade, as ODIs became more popular than test matches. Then in the 90s’ with the backing of the satellite channels, cricket became truly internationlized, and at the same time fully commercialized. The village game has now become an international sport. I wonder what Cardus might have thought about the modern day cricket. May be he would have liked it, or perhaps he would have written a satire on the follys of the modern game. Who knows, he might well have liked to make a few comments on the cheerleaders, or the spectacular color clothing of the cricketers.   

 

After Cardus died in 1975, no less a person than JB Priestly wrote a wonderful obituary article in The Guardian.  There he wrote “As few men I have known have done, he turned himself into his own man, sensitive, eloquent, golden-hearted…… here was-and still is – a superbly talented brave soul.” Lacking in the writing capabilites of Mr. Preistly, I will finsih this article by simply saying that “Thank you very much Mr. Cardus. The whole cricketing world, from Fiji, in the Pacific, to the tea Gardens of Assam, from Sharjah, in the ME, to North America, owes a great deal to you.”

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