I think Brian Close is probably the first cricketer I recognize.
The bald head, strong jaw, and sometimes intense expression beneath the bushy eyebrows definitely registered with me as a child. My earliest memory of cricket was watching England’s incredible last-minute comeback against the West Indies at The Oval in 1966.
Fast forward 11 months to July 1967 and he was skippering Yorkshire against Derbyshire at Chesterfield. It was the first day of cricket I saw in person. It was the final day and Derbyshire fought all afternoon to save a draw, something that has been seen many times in the years since. Earlier, Close had made 60 before being dispatched by Harold Rhodes but had to leave the field after receiving a violent blow fielding at short leg.
‘The divide is open,’ Fred Trueman told his father. My father was clearly surprised that a man who looked like he had been carved from the surface of the coal he worked on could be so hurt.
Stephen Chalke’s latest book chronicles numerous episodes from a career spanning four decades that might have made a lesser man consider an alternative career. But Brian Close kept coming back for more.
He was a very good player and a great captain, even if he had a tendency to get distracted. He was undoubtedly one of gaming’s greatest characters, and few have created more stories. Some of them are of unclear origin, but they seem to have some truth to them.
His England career began in 1949 when he was too young and ended in 1976 when he was too old, aged 45 and facing a powerful West Indies attack. But he did it better than most, and his match against Michael Holding in the fading light at Old Trafford became legendary. He captained his country seven times, winning six and losing just one, and led Yorkshire to six trophies in eight seasons.
He was his own man, and this cost him dearly, with amateurs running the game and distrusting the northerners with their strong opinions. He was therefore discredited as captain of an overseas team, which was a huge loss for England.
He was unconventional in his batting, fielding, captaincy and approach to life. As a passenger in the car, he seemed to be full of danger, as he opened a vacuum flask, looked at a newspaper spread across the steering wheel, and studied his racing stance, barely aware of the dangers on the road ahead. Several accidents on the road were indicative of his approach to life itself, which was deeply frustrating.
He gambled a lot, causing huge losses to his family, and he was also a heavy smoker, which ultimately cost him his life. He was very much his own person, according to his daughter, who said, ‘He wasn’t a good dad, but he was my dad.’
Stephen Chalke’s book is an honest review of the Marmite man, who, for all his faults, does a good job with this book. There are plenty of funny stories and a few that will make the reader cringe. The book is warts and all, drawn from the author’s conversations with many of his contemporaries and teammates.
This book is not a biography, but rather presents the author’s life and career through the stories of those who knew the subject best. But this book is much more readable in that respect and Stephen Chalke maintains his status as one of the truly great cricket writers with this book, his 26th.
Outstanding competition from others in all competitions, this is probably his best.
Add this to your Christmas list, you won’t be disappointed.
Like me, you’ll probably want to get to the end and start again.
It’s a Hell of a Life: Brian Close – Bold, Rebellious, and Stupid Written by Stephen Chalke and published by Fairfield Books
