Vic Marks shares the middle with the well-rounded Devonian who is the natural successor to Dickie Bird as the best and most recognisable umpire in the world
WHILE Dickie Bird was wallowing and weeping amid all the attention that enveloped him prior to his final Test, David Shepherd, his successor as the most recognisable umpire in the world, was savouring a few more peaceful hours in his beloved North Devon village of Instow before setting off on a fortnight’s trek, umpiring on the county circuit.
Shep does not begrudge all the hyperbole surrounding Dickie’s last stand. It is not in his nature, and he shares the world’s affection for the barmy one from Barnsley. He has looked on with interested amusement at all the TV and radio profiles. (For someone so fragile, Dickie can control a camera crew as adeptly as a temperamental fast bowler).
If Dickie is an archetypal Yorkshireman, obsessive and endearingly mad, then Shep epitomises the true Devonian: rubicund, cheerful and as honest as the day is long. In any case, he has no cause to begrudge Dickie his emotional farewell. Shepherd is already established as our leading umpire. He is the only Englishman who will stand in two Tests this summer; he was England’s representative at the World Cup, and was chosen to umpire the final.
Like Dickie, he is steeped in cricket. Apart from five years playing for Devon as a youngster, he has always been involved in the professional game; 15 years with Gloucestershire as a stout middle-order batsman, 15 years an umpire.
Meanwhile he has, when available, helped out at the family’s post office/newsagency. He has just had 10 days off, since the Test and County Cricket Board give their umpires a break after a Test match (Dickie will need at least a month to recuperate from this one). So he has been delivering the papers and serving behind the counter. The tourists mumble: ”Don’t I recognise you from somewhere?”; all the locals know him. In every way he is a more rounded character than Dickie. You sense that he could cope without cricket.
Unlike Dickie, his sitting room is not festooned with cricketing mementos; there is a goblet from the 1987 Bicentenary match at Lord’s, a tankard given to him by his Devon captain in 1964, on which are engraved the words ”Sorry, skip, I thought I could clear ’em” — a frequent Shepherd refrain in his Devon days — and several skittles trophies. The two cricketing photos are of the 1973 and 1977 Gloucestershire sides that won finals at Lord’s.
Shep was a stalwart of those teams (though not quite as vital as Procter). Heady days. We recalled the 1971 Gillette Cup semi-final at Old Trafford, which finished in semi-darkness at 8.50 with a famous onslaught from David Hughes, a match that spawned one of the more enduring umpiring tales. Jack Bond, batting for Lancashire, complained to umpire Arthur Jepson that it was getting gloomy (Dickie was at the other end). ”Look, you can see the moon,” said Bond.
”The moon?” retorted Jepson. ”Well, how far do you want to see?”
Shep remembers Jepson fondly. He was an abrasive, uncomplicated fast bowler for Nottinghamshire, and probably not a politically correct umpire. ”I remember one of Gloucester’s fast bowlers was being tormented on a really slow, low wicket. The batsman was dancing up and down the crease and scoring freely, which prompted umpire Jepson to say to our man: ‘I’d give him one or two around his earholes.’
” ‘But this pitch is so slow, I can’t get it high enough,’ said the bowler. Jepson replied: ‘Who said anything about the ball bouncing?’ ”
Shepherd the umpire would never advocate such an impropriety. Indeed, like Bird, his greatest gift is in defusing explosive situations, rather than creating them. His integrity is so obvious that players listen to him and take note, rather than offence. He says: ”You don’t have time to weigh everything up carefully when things are hotting up out in the middle. You just have to react.”
Shep’s instincts are invariably sound. He’s not afraid to wag his finger if necessary. He did so effectively to Atherton at Edgbaston, and also to Prasad in the cauldron of Bangalore when India played Pakistan during the World Cup. Prasad had pointed Sohail towards the pavilion. ”Actually, I was annoyed with myself there,” says Shep, ”because I had missed the incident the ball before when Sohail goaded Prasad after he had hit him for four. If I’d spotted that I might have reacted differently.” No matter. Prasad, ”a lovely chap”, said, ”Sorry, Mr. Shepherd,” and the game proceeded in relative calm.
Often one pair of eyes is insufficient. Shepherd stresses the value of a fertile partnership between the two umpires. This was crucial in his second Test, at Edgbaston in 1985, in which Wayne Phillips of Australia was caught by Gower at silly point via a ricochet from Lamb’s boot.
Shep recalls: ”Edmonds was bowling over the wicket and he blocked my view of the incident, so I turned to square-leg and Connie [David Constant]. He confirmed that the ball hadn’t touched the ground and I gave Phillips out. Afterwards Border was furious and had a go at me. Connie immediately pointed out that it was his decision (and a good one).
”A couple weeks later I saw Connie and thanked him again for his help. He said he had watched the replays again. ‘Why?’ I asked, since we had already established that the ball hadn’t touched the ground. ‘Just checking to see if you really were unsighted, old boy.’ ”
Shep is the old hand now. He is probably better than Dickie at helping out his mate, since he is not so frantically preoccupied in the middle.
But no matter how good the partnership, umpiring can be a lonely occupation, with long hours on the motorway and in hotel rooms, as well as in the middle. And it can be gruelling, mentally and physically. How does he keep fit?
His ruddy smile spreads. ”Oh,I take the dog for a walk.” Looking out over Shep’s home ground at Instow with its old thatched pavilion and the sea wall that withstands the spring tides to the unspoilt beach beyond, you could understand that here this might be a truly therapeutic exercise.
ENDS