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Summer Times is the Journal of the Old Scarborians Association

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tinuously from lunch to close <strong>of</strong> play.<br />

Play always began at noon with stumps be‐<br />

ing drawn at 6.00pm. Lunch was taken at<br />

2.00pm and tea, on <strong>the</strong> field <strong>of</strong> play at<br />

4.15pm. The opening match was always<br />

Yorkshire v <strong>the</strong> MCC followed by ei<strong>the</strong>r Mr<br />

HDG Leveson‐Gower’s XI v <strong>the</strong> MCC or <strong>the</strong><br />

outgoing Tour<strong>is</strong>ts, North v South or Gentle‐<br />

men v Players. The closing fixture was Mr<br />

H.D G Lev<strong>is</strong>on‐Gower’s XI v <strong>the</strong> Tour<strong>is</strong>ts, a<br />

splendid finale bringing toge<strong>the</strong>r an array <strong>of</strong><br />

quite unforgettable talent. The Festival itself<br />

closed with a rendition by <strong>the</strong> band <strong>of</strong> Auld<br />

Lang Syne followed by <strong>the</strong> National An<strong>the</strong>m,<br />

both <strong>of</strong> which were traditionally observed.<br />

On a strictly personal bas<strong>is</strong>, my involvement<br />

stretches over sixty years. Initially I was a<br />

junior spectator and on one memorable occa‐<br />

sion (1934) I was a ball retriever as Don Brad‐<br />

man scored an incredible 132 in one and a<br />

half hours <strong>of</strong>f bowlers <strong>of</strong> <strong>the</strong> calibre <strong>of</strong> Far‐<br />

nes, Nichols, Bowes and Verity. I soon gradu‐<br />

ated in 1936 to scoreboard operative – my<br />

38<br />

first paid employment ‐ and in those forma‐<br />

tive years I became familiar with my school‐<br />

boy heroes which no doubt influenced a<br />

lifelong career in cricket.<br />

To an avid autograph hunter <strong>the</strong> Festival was<br />

parad<strong>is</strong>e and two cricketers will always be<br />

remembered: <strong>the</strong> West Indian Ben Sealey<br />

who replicated h<strong>is</strong> signature on a rubber<br />

stamp, which was as likely to fin<strong>is</strong>h on a<br />

forehead as in a book, and <strong>the</strong> Indian bats‐<br />

man Mushtaq Ali who gave away half‐<br />

pennies with h<strong>is</strong> signature, <strong>the</strong>reby assuring<br />

h<strong>is</strong> popularity.<br />

About th<strong>is</strong> time I remember running an er‐<br />

rand for Herbert Sutcliffe and was rewarded<br />

with a banana, albeit overripe. Little did I<br />

think that in <strong>the</strong> first Festival after <strong>the</strong> war I<br />

would actually play alongside him. Th<strong>is</strong> was<br />

<strong>the</strong> first <strong>of</strong> my ten Festival appearances –<br />

marking my final appearance against Paki‐<br />

stan with <strong>the</strong> last <strong>of</strong> my 26 first‐class centu‐<br />

ries. In those 10 years I was privileged to play<br />

with and against <strong>the</strong> best international play‐

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