The Wonder Read Free Page B

persons of this story, they are never essential words which affect the issue. The essential speeches are reported from first-hand sources. For instance, Ginger Stott himself has told me on more than one occasion that the words with which I closed the last section, were the actual words spoken by him on the occasion in question. It was not until six years after the great Oxfordshire match that I myself first met the man, but what follows is literally true in all essentials.
    There was a long, narrow strip of yard, or alley, at the back of Mrs. Stott’s paper-shop, a yard that, unfortunately, no longer exists. It has been partly built over, and another of England’s memorials has thus been destroyed by the vandals of modern commerce. …
    This yard was fifty-three feet long, measuring from Mrs. Stott’s back door to the door of the coal-shed, which marked the alley’s extreme limit. This measurement, an apparently negligible trifle, had an important effect upon Stott’s career. For it was in this yard that he taught himself to bowl, and the shortness of the pitch precluded his taking any run. From those long studious hours of practice he emerged with a characteristic that was—and still remains—unique. Stott never took more than two steps before delivering the ball; frequently he bowled from a standing position, and batsmen have confessed that of all Stott’s puzzling mannerisms, this was the one to which they never became accustomed. S. R. L. Maturin, the finest bat Australia ever sent to this country, has told me that to this peculiarity of delivery he attributed his failure ever to score freely against Stott. It completely upset one’s habit of play, he said: one had no time to prepare for the flight of the ball; it came at one so suddenly. Other bowlers have since attempted some imitation of this method without success. They had not Stott’s physical advantages.
    Nevertheless, the shortness of that alley threw Stott back for two years. When he first emerged to try conclusions on the field, he found his length on the longer pitch utterly unreliable, and the effort necessary to throw the ball another six yards, at first upset his slowly acquired methods.
    It was not until he was twenty years old that Ginger Stott played in his first Colts’ match.
    The three years that had intervened had not been prosperous years for Hampdenshire. Their team was a one-man team. Bobby Maisefield was developing into a fine bat (and other counties were throwing out inducements to him, trying to persuade him to qualify for first-class cricket), but he found no support, and Hampdenshire was never looked upon as a coming county. The best of the minor counties in those years were Staffordshire and Norfolk.
    In the Colts’ match Stott’s analysis ran:
overs
maidens
runs
wickets
11·3
7
16
7
    and reference to the score-sheet, which is still preserved among the records of the County Club, shows that six of the seven wickets were clean bowled. The Eleven had no second innings; the match was drawn, owing to rain. Stott has told me that the Eleven had to bat on a dry wicket, but after making all allowances, the performance was certainly remarkable.
    After this match Stott was, of course, played regularly. That year Hampdenshire rose once more to their old position at the head of the minor counties, and Maisefield, who had been seriously considering Surrey’s offer of a place in their Eleven after two years’ qualification by residence, decided to remain with the county which had given him his first chance.
    During that season Stott did not record any performance so remarkable as his feat in the Colts’ match, but his record for the year was eighty-seven wickets with an average of 9·31; and it is worthy of notice that Yorkshire made overtures to him, as he was qualified by birth to play for the northern county.
    I think there must have been a wonderful esprit de corps among the members of that early Hampdenshire Eleven. There are other