eleven
Bob Woolmer
FROM THE PAVILION
Malcolm Marshall was an icon. He was comfortably the best bowler of the Eighties and Nineties. His peer influence in Natal brought through such players as Shaun Pollock and Lance Klusener. His death is a tragedy for all who played with him, against him and who watched him.
My own memories were brief because as he started I was finishing and I didn’t often last that long against him. But I would like to share a real story with you.
In 1982 I had just made a double hundred against Garth le Roux and Imran Khan and was in pretty good nick. I then went on to play against Clive Rice and Richard Hadlee the game after and, while not getting big runs, hung around the crease long enough to get used to some genuine pace bowling.
So it was to Maidstone, an out ground that Kent used, where I turned up and opened the batting against Hampshire, who had Marshall. Kent had bowled out Hampshire for 180 on a lively Maidstone wicket earlier that day and we looked forward to getting a big lead.
I had been very confident of my technique against pace and had never worn a helmet. I had my Kent cap on and while there are always nerves and some apprehension, I expected that to wear off soon after I had faced a couple of deliveries. In fact, I was off the mark with two to square leg almost immediately. What happened then still remains vague in my memory, but having talked to a few people I have managed to pick up the pieces.
Marshall came running in rather like a fast, sleek steam engine. He once told me that he practised on the beach in Barbados, sprinting on sand to give him more pace. He had terrific arm speed and one had to watch the ball carefully.
I shuffled across to off stump momentarily before the ball was released and the arm whizzed over. I saw the ball back off a good length and moved into line, it bounced and like a lot of West Indian bowlers Marshall was able to get this extra bounce. It looked as though it was going to glove me as I was playing high and desperately I took my gloves out of the way. I was successful, the ball missed my glove. Unfortunately, however, I had left my right cheekbone in the way of the speeding missile. I had only a brief moment to try and ride the inevitable blow, and whack, I took it. It made a squishy sort of sound as it hit me almost rubbery.
At first I felt no pain and was attempting to carry on the innings as though nothing had happened when, in an almost natural reaction, I shook my head to clear away the cobwebs. And, as a prize fighter does when he gets hit, sprayed blood like someone spraying a hose. The blood shook out of my nose at a rapid rate. It was quite clear from that moment that my innings was over and that ice, rest and elevation were very necessary. Naturally the club doctor sent me off to hospital with our coach Brian Luckhurst who kindly drove me there and waited for me.
Of the two hospitals in Maidstone we chose the Maidstone General and as luck would have it I arrived just a few minutes after a multiple car crash. The hospital only had one X-ray facility and so I had to wait. My plight was minor compared to the victims of the car crash.
Two hours later and a confirmed crack of the eye socket, but mercifully no depression of the cheekbone – they breed us tough in Kent – I returned to the ground. By then all had gone except the caretaker. I had a face that resembled a rainbow balloon and I rescued my car keys and drove home, which was 30 minutes away.
No cellphones in those days, so when Gill, my wife, opened the door she must have seen something that resembled an extraterrestrial being. Her immediate concern was to ask how I had done that, to which, and I suppose only the game of cricket makes you think this way, I said: “Don’t worry darling you should see the other guy. He’s black all over!”
Despite this experience, I will always remember Marshall as one of cricket’s all-time greats. We were able to share a pint and laugh about the incident afterwards. In no way was he at fault. It was great bowling. Another bowler, I would have been able to play or avoid the ball easily.
Like myself Marshall had chosen a career in coaching and was prepared to put his experience back into the game. He had already been very successful with Natal and I know they will take this very hard. So to them and to all Marshall’s family and friends, I would like to add my condolences.
The good Lord obviously needs a fast bowler to force his opposition into defeat. He could not have picked a better man.