Tributes have poured in from far and wide since the sad death two weeks ago of former Hampshire Chief Executive, Southern League chairman and leading all-rounder cricketer Tony Baker, aged 77 years.
One such has been penned by Andy Murtagh, a cricketing opponent in his Southampton University days, a Hampshire player and later a clubmate with Old Tauntonians.
Back in the days, Southampton University played in the Southern League, mixing it with the likes of Deanery, Waterlooville, Basingstoke and Old Tauntonians. We had good sides in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s and we must have held our own because we were always top of the league at the end of term. But of course, the end of term was not the end of the cricket season and when the final league table was published, other sides had of course played their outstanding fixtures, caught us up and quite a few no doubt passed us.
It was against Old Tauntonians, I believe, that I made my debut for the university in the Southern League. As I took guard, the bowler and captain sidled up to me and asked what subject I was reading. “English, I replied. “Good,” he said, “It will be a pleasure to speak to someone in your side who can string more than two words together.” But that’s only one word, I thought to myself as I asked for middle-and-leg. This chap had a longish run and in he bounded, dark hair flapping with sweat, to deliver balls that were invitingly pitched up, just outside off stump. I decided to unfurl my favourite shot – the cover drive – and leant in to stroke it effortlessly to the boundary. But it bounced a bit more than I expected and moved away fractionally as it pitched. I nicked it and the wicket-keeper did the rest.
The bowler/captain came over at tea in the pavilion at Montefiore, the university ground, to introduce himself as Tony Baker. He sat down, shared his sandwiches and engaged me in conversation of more than two words and thus was born a long and cheerful friendship that endured right up until his recent death. He was a very good club bowler, I am immediately forced to admit, and he got me out more times than I care to remember. He was indefatigable, bowling for hour after hour, at a lively pace, and he never lost the ability to move the ball away from the right-hander. He was also an absolute gent, both on the field and off, grinning if you played and missed and nodding his head in appreciation if you hit him for four. He enjoyed the banter and the gossip in the bar afterwards and if he was ever missing for our annual skirmishes – which was rare – I always thought that the contest was a little diminished.
I went on the play for Hampshire and he went on to take care of Hampshire – well, the financial side of things, anyway – and we perforce maintained contact, which continued down the years at ex-players’ reunions. It was sad to see him wheelchair-bound and physically diminished as Parkinson’s took hold but he remained cheerful, upbeat and sociable, so much so that I never felt constrained to moderate the tone of our usual teasing exchanges. He’s now taken his sweater and gone for a deserved long rest at third man and the game is all the poorer for that.
Well bowled, Tony!
Andrew Murtagh
Background: My father never played cricket! Coming from solid Irish stock, he had barely heard of the game; my brother and I taught ourselves to play by dint of endless games of cricket in the back garden. That is why he was non-plussed by my stated desire to play professionally. “Yes, but what are you going to do when you get a proper job?” he remonstrated. So we compromised. He would not stand in my way provided I went to university and got a degree. In those days, the two – a university education and a summer of playing cricket – were not mutually exclusive so I set about the task of choosing a suitable seat of learning. I lighted upon Southampton University for the sole reason that they were the current British university cricket champions.
My stated aim of pursuing a combined honours degree in cricket and English was rejected by the admissions office…but I did it anyway. The English department were good to me; they made allowances, they gave me help and expert tuition, they marked my essays generously and I escaped with a 2-2 draw. There, I also met my future wife, Linda, though the English department cannot take credit for that. She was a social scientist. The cricket went well too. We won the national competition a further two times, making it a hat-trick of triumphs, unprecedented for a provincial university. The captain was a chap called Martin Harrison, whose father, Leo, was the county coach at Hampshire. Martin suggested that I come down to the club to attend a few nets. And the rest is history; lifelong association with Hampshire CCC was born. Recently, I was elected as a Life Vice-President of the club, an honour which I appreciate hugely and intend to make them pay for by living long.
For ten years, I played cricket for Hampshire (four of them during the ‘varsity vacations and six as a full-time pro) and I got paid for it! In truth, my career was not as successful as I would have wished but I had my moments. Playing at Lord’s, winning the championship in 1973 and The John Player League in 1975, facing Jeff Thomson against Australia in 1975 and Michael Holding against the West Indies in 1976 were among the highlights.
Lowlights included a king pair against the West Indies in 1973, facing Andy Roberts in the nets and being run over by an errant sightscreen at Guildford shortly after scoring my career best 165 against Surrey. I never managed to nail down a regular spot in the county side for the simple reason that I was not quite good enough. I was often asked why I did not try my luck at another, less strong county. What, and pass up the privilege of playing in the same team as some of the world’s greats, Barry Richards, Gordon Greenidge and Andy Roberts? It was, as the current cliché goes, a no-brainer.
At length, it was time to get a ‘proper job’. Contacts at the club sent me up to Malvern College. They were looking for a master to run the cricket and teach English, in that order, I subsequently recognised. I may not have been the most inspiring or knowledgeable tutor of our rich literary heritage but I was, I believe, competent enough and the job put me in touch again with my love of the English language and the endlessly fascinating way it can be applied and manipulated. The cricket, of course, I loved and it was joy to work with Roger Tolchard (ex Leics and England) as my coach at one of England’s premier cricket schools.
I was at Malvern for 30 years, eighteen of those as a housemaster, and as a colleague remarked, “You get less for murder these days.” When it came for the time to move on, it was not golf, but writing, that beckoned. Everyone has a métier manqué, I reckon, and mine was with the pen. Write about what you know was always my advice to pupils stuck for ideas for their essays, so my subject was always going to be cricket. Or more specifically, my subjects were always going to be cricketers. My publications:
• A Remarkable Man, on George Chesterton (short-listed for the MCC Cricket Society Book of the Year)
• Touched by Greatness, on Tom Graveney (long-listed for the MCC Cricket Society Book of the Year)
• Sundial in the Shade, on Barry Richards (long-listed for the MCC Cricket Society Book of the Year)
• Test of Character, on John Holder (published 1st July 2016)
One such has been penned by Andy Murtagh, a cricketing opponent in his Southampton University days, a Hampshire player and later a clubmate with Old Tauntonians.
Back in the days, Southampton University played in the Southern League, mixing it with the likes of Deanery, Waterlooville, Basingstoke and Old Tauntonians. We had good sides in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s and we must have held our own because we were always top of the league at the end of term. But of course, the end of term was not the end of the cricket season and when the final league table was published, other sides had of course played their outstanding fixtures, caught us up and quite a few no doubt passed us.
It was against Old Tauntonians, I believe, that I made my debut for the university in the Southern League. As I took guard, the bowler and captain sidled up to me and asked what subject I was reading. “English, I replied. “Good,” he said, “It will be a pleasure to speak to someone in your side who can string more than two words together.” But that’s only one word, I thought to myself as I asked for middle-and-leg. This chap had a longish run and in he bounded, dark hair flapping with sweat, to deliver balls that were invitingly pitched up, just outside off stump. I decided to unfurl my favourite shot – the cover drive – and leant in to stroke it effortlessly to the boundary. But it bounced a bit more than I expected and moved away fractionally as it pitched. I nicked it and the wicket-keeper did the rest.
The bowler/captain came over at tea in the pavilion at Montefiore, the university ground, to introduce himself as Tony Baker. He sat down, shared his sandwiches and engaged me in conversation of more than two words and thus was born a long and cheerful friendship that endured right up until his recent death. He was a very good club bowler, I am immediately forced to admit, and he got me out more times than I care to remember. He was indefatigable, bowling for hour after hour, at a lively pace, and he never lost the ability to move the ball away from the right-hander. He was also an absolute gent, both on the field and off, grinning if you played and missed and nodding his head in appreciation if you hit him for four. He enjoyed the banter and the gossip in the bar afterwards and if he was ever missing for our annual skirmishes – which was rare – I always thought that the contest was a little diminished.
I went on the play for Hampshire and he went on to take care of Hampshire – well, the financial side of things, anyway – and we perforce maintained contact, which continued down the years at ex-players’ reunions. It was sad to see him wheelchair-bound and physically diminished as Parkinson’s took hold but he remained cheerful, upbeat and sociable, so much so that I never felt constrained to moderate the tone of our usual teasing exchanges. He’s now taken his sweater and gone for a deserved long rest at third man and the game is all the poorer for that.
Well bowled, Tony!
Andrew Murtagh
Background: My father never played cricket! Coming from solid Irish stock, he had barely heard of the game; my brother and I taught ourselves to play by dint of endless games of cricket in the back garden. That is why he was non-plussed by my stated desire to play professionally. “Yes, but what are you going to do when you get a proper job?” he remonstrated. So we compromised. He would not stand in my way provided I went to university and got a degree. In those days, the two – a university education and a summer of playing cricket – were not mutually exclusive so I set about the task of choosing a suitable seat of learning. I lighted upon Southampton University for the sole reason that they were the current British university cricket champions.
My stated aim of pursuing a combined honours degree in cricket and English was rejected by the admissions office…but I did it anyway. The English department were good to me; they made allowances, they gave me help and expert tuition, they marked my essays generously and I escaped with a 2-2 draw. There, I also met my future wife, Linda, though the English department cannot take credit for that. She was a social scientist. The cricket went well too. We won the national competition a further two times, making it a hat-trick of triumphs, unprecedented for a provincial university. The captain was a chap called Martin Harrison, whose father, Leo, was the county coach at Hampshire. Martin suggested that I come down to the club to attend a few nets. And the rest is history; lifelong association with Hampshire CCC was born. Recently, I was elected as a Life Vice-President of the club, an honour which I appreciate hugely and intend to make them pay for by living long.
For ten years, I played cricket for Hampshire (four of them during the ‘varsity vacations and six as a full-time pro) and I got paid for it! In truth, my career was not as successful as I would have wished but I had my moments. Playing at Lord’s, winning the championship in 1973 and The John Player League in 1975, facing Jeff Thomson against Australia in 1975 and Michael Holding against the West Indies in 1976 were among the highlights.
Lowlights included a king pair against the West Indies in 1973, facing Andy Roberts in the nets and being run over by an errant sightscreen at Guildford shortly after scoring my career best 165 against Surrey. I never managed to nail down a regular spot in the county side for the simple reason that I was not quite good enough. I was often asked why I did not try my luck at another, less strong county. What, and pass up the privilege of playing in the same team as some of the world’s greats, Barry Richards, Gordon Greenidge and Andy Roberts? It was, as the current cliché goes, a no-brainer.
At length, it was time to get a ‘proper job’. Contacts at the club sent me up to Malvern College. They were looking for a master to run the cricket and teach English, in that order, I subsequently recognised. I may not have been the most inspiring or knowledgeable tutor of our rich literary heritage but I was, I believe, competent enough and the job put me in touch again with my love of the English language and the endlessly fascinating way it can be applied and manipulated. The cricket, of course, I loved and it was joy to work with Roger Tolchard (ex Leics and England) as my coach at one of England’s premier cricket schools.
I was at Malvern for 30 years, eighteen of those as a housemaster, and as a colleague remarked, “You get less for murder these days.” When it came for the time to move on, it was not golf, but writing, that beckoned. Everyone has a métier manqué, I reckon, and mine was with the pen. Write about what you know was always my advice to pupils stuck for ideas for their essays, so my subject was always going to be cricket. Or more specifically, my subjects were always going to be cricketers. My publications:
• A Remarkable Man, on George Chesterton (short-listed for the MCC Cricket Society Book of the Year)
• Touched by Greatness, on Tom Graveney (long-listed for the MCC Cricket Society Book of the Year)
• Sundial in the Shade, on Barry Richards (long-listed for the MCC Cricket Society Book of the Year)
• Test of Character, on John Holder (published 1st July 2016)
