The Twelfth Man 2020

Features Ray Bright looks back at his flattened middle stump – the miracle of Headingley ’81 (part one) is complete. I WAS THERE... Mick Pope recalls two singular moments 38 years apart I t feels a long time ago now, frankly because it is! I was a somewhat shy and naïve 17-year-old in the middle of my ‘A’ levels in the summer of 1981. Cricket had become a passion of mine only five years earlier – when the maroon caps of the West Indians and the batting of Viv Richards in the heat of 1976 had stirred an unknown interest – by August I was hooked and Tony Greig’s England side were ‘grovelling’! An early hero was the erratic, but brilliant Derek Randall. At Yorkshire I was at- tracted to the belligerence of David Bairstow and Graham Ste- venson and then I started to take note of a certain Somerset all-rounder. After Mike Brearley stepped down as England cap- tain, following the Golden Jubilee Test against India in February 1980, the country would not win another Test match for almost 18 months. My personal memories of the first half of 1981 are largely de- pressing. Mrs Thatcher had started on her destruction of the unions – coal miners and steel workers would fall at her feet in due course. England had lost easily in the Caribbean, although 2-0 was a better result than many of the thrashings that lay ahead. The weather was dour, bitter and miserable. Race ri- ots, violence and unemployment dominated the news. Botham bagged a pair at Lord’s and his time as England captain was over – the king had lost his crown. By the end of the third day of the Headingley Test, England, following on 227 runs behind, were 6 for one. Ladbrokes offered 500–1 on the home side win- ning and we all went home to await the inevitable on Monday. Having attended the first three, often turgid, days of the Leeds Test I was unable to make the fourth. I was, as my mother re- minded me, still ‘officially’ at school, and some money owed from a sixth form trip had to be collected that day. I didn’t real- ly mind. I thought the game would be over long before I made it home to catch the radio or TV coverage. It remains a lasting regret that I missed the batting deeds of Botham (supported by Dilley, Chris Old and even Bob Willis) that particular Monday af- ternoon. Still there was no way I was going to miss the last day. It left an indelible memory. THE MOMENT 2.20pm Tuesday 21 July 1981 “ … the boys invade the ground, and the players run, helter- skelter, for the pavilion … ” Henry Blofeld’s Test Match Special commentary after the dra- matic end to the 1981 Headingley Test – I was one of those boys. Even now that moment remains so rich, so vivid, etched in my mind’s eye – the overwhelming relief of victory, euphoria; a miracle no less. Bob Willis* has just plucked Ray Bright’s middle stump (what a perfect ending!) out of the ground and he and his fellow England colleagues are tearing for the safety of the Heading- ley players’ dressing rooms and I know right then, for almost certainly the one and only time during my forty plus years of watching cricket, that I am climbing the advertising boards – I have to be on that Headingley turf.