If you practise twice a week in the nets, I’ll give you a trial in the first team.” What happened over the next 20 years is history. Nobby Clarke took more than 4,000 wickets at an average cost of just 13 runs apiece. His remarkable achievement prompted Leo Bennett of the BBC, author of The Weekend Cricketer, the first book I ever read about club cricket, to remark that if he were playing a match for his life, he would want Len Newman to score the runs and Nobby Clarke to take the wickets.
But cricket was not Nobby’s only passion. He had another great love: politics. Nobby was a staunch Conservative, and anyone who disagreed with his views could expect a sharp response. I remember a man named Gamble joining the club. He was a Liberal, and when he offered Nobby a drink, Nobby Clarke replied that he drank only with cricketers or gentlemen, adding, “You are neither, Sir.” He went on to say, “We once had a Cockerell (Mike Cockerell) who never crowed, a Bell that never tolled, and now we’ve a Gamble that’s never come off.”
Another incident I remember took place when we were playing at North Mymms. The home side had scored 235 for 3, while Cockfosters were struggling at 98 for 9 at 7.20 pm, with only ten minutes remaining. In those days, there were no restrictions limiting the final hour to 20 overs. Nobby went out to bat at number 11, determined to save the match.
Some young children playing in the neighbouring field spotted the enormous figure of Mark Clarke, who wore two coloured scarves around his waist and looked remarkably like Humpty Dumpty. They shouted, “Come and look. Old Fatty’s going in to bat!”
Nobby overheard the remark, marched over to the hedge, and proceeded to lecture the children on good manners. He continued his sermon until one of the umpires called out, “Come on, Mr Clarke! By the time you get to the wicket, there’ll only be time for one more over!”
Nobby ignored the warning and carried on with his lecture. He eventually reached the crease at 7.28 pm. The fast bowler shortened his run-up to just two paces and bowled an over in a minute and a half, which Nobby Clarke successfully played out. He then tucked his bat under his arm and began walking towards the pavilion.
The umpire called after him, “Come back, Sir, there’s time for one more!”
Nobby replied in a booming voice that could be heard across the entire ground, “There is only one last over in any match I’ve played.”
Needless to say, he had cost us yet another fixture. On another occasion, at Totteridge, Nobby was struck for three successive straight sixes, provoking loud laughter from the spectators. But when he bowled the batsman with the very next delivery, he turned around and shouted, “Now [expletive], laugh at that!”
Many stories have been told about Nobby, but one incident I shall never forget occurred when Cockfosters played the formidable Great Walthamstow side, which included several Essex first- and second-XI players, such as Keith Boyce, Frank Rist, Joe Milner and others of similar calibre. Cockfosters were dismissed for just 89 runs.
I remember Sid Cauzens, a former Conference player who was acting as fixture secretary and scorer that day, speaking to Nobby, who was apologising for Cockfosters’ dismal batting performance.
“I thought at least you might give us a good game. You did beat us last season. It’s the end of June, and they’re all complaining about our weak fixture list. Number five hasn’t batted yet this season,” Sid remarked.
It was Carnival Queen day, and several hundred spectators had gathered to enjoy the cricket, sporting events, festivities and the barbecue that followed the match. Milner and Rist opened the Walthamstow innings and raced to 37 in the first four overs. Milner was brilliantly caught at cover when the score had reached 55. Two more wickets fell, including that of Rist, and it soon became apparent that batsmen numbered five to eleven were desperately short of match practice.
Walthamstow were eventually dismissed for 80, suffering their first defeat since the previous June. Sid Cauzens entered the dressing room carrying 12 pints of beer and announced, “Well done, Cockfosters! You’ve beaten our full professional side! A pint for you all, and one for you, Nobby Clarke.”
We turned to look at the enormous County Councillor and were astonished to see tears streaming down his face.
Nobby also told me two other stories. The first concerned his wicketkeeper, Laurie Mitchell, whom he paid 10 shillings per match, plus one shilling for every catch and stumping off his bowling when playing for R. A. Clarke’s XI.
On several occasions, Nobby noticed that Laurie would sometimes claim, “Well bowled, Mr Clarke!” when Nobby knew perfectly well that the ball had not hit the wicket, although the bails were lying on the ground. He chose to say nothing about these incidents.
However, when complaints began circulating among the players that money was going missing, Nobby became suspicious. He noticed that the disappearances seemed to coincide with Laurie’s appearances in the side.
On one occasion, the team travelled to a match only to discover that the game had been cancelled because of the weather. As they made their way home by train, Nobby Clarke turned to Laurie and remarked, “Well, Laurie, my lad, it’s been a bad day for you. No stumping, no catches, and no coats hanging up.”
After that, nothing ever went missing again.
The second story took place during the 1940 season, the first cricket season of the war, when finding enough players to field a team was becoming increasingly difficult.
On the final day of the season, Nobby Clarke had taken just 97 wickets. The opposing captain telephoned him early on Saturday morning to explain that he would have to cancel the match because he could raise only eight players.
Nobby Clarke assured him that he could definitely find two additional players and would try to secure a third. He pleaded with the captain to turn up for the fixture.
After several telephone calls, Nobby Clarke managed to find two players but could not locate a third. He therefore went shopping at the local parade of shops, hoping that a team of ten would at least allow the match to go ahead.
When he entered the greengrocer’s shop, he was served by a fairly tall, fit-looking young lad. Nobby asked him, “Why are you not in the Forces, lad?”
“I’m only 16, Mr Clarke,” the boy replied.
“Do you play cricket?”
“No, Sir,” said the lad.
“When do you finish?”
“One o’clock, Sir.”
“I’ll give you 10 shillings if you turn up at Cockfosters for a 2.30 start. Come to my house, and I’ll fit you out with flannels and everything else you need.”
The match began, and Nobby proceeded to bowl throughout the opposing innings. However, when the greengrocer’s assistant finally came out to bat, Nobby had taken only two wickets and was still one short of his coveted hundred for the season.
The boy was instructed on how to take guard. Nobby Clarke bowled, the lad missed the ball, and the wicketkeeper removed the bails. Yet the boy had not moved his feet an inch, and the umpire at Nobby’s end declared, “Not out.”
Nobby immediately protested, “He’s not asking you; he’s asking the umpire at square leg.”
The boy had taken guard outside his crease and remained rooted to the spot. The square-leg umpire, who evidently knew very little about cricket and was probably Nobby’s milkman, replied, “If Charlie says he’s not out, then that’s good enough for me.”
“Don’t you move,” Nobby Clarke instructed the boy.
He then called for the scorebook and read Law 42 aloud to everyone concerned. After a lengthy explanation, he finally convinced them that the batsman was out.
Nobby had secured his 100 wickets for the season.
Nobby’s complete bowling record, taken from his scrapbook and covering the years 1929 to 1949, was as follows:
- Overs: 21,124
- Maidens: 2,987
- Runs conceded: 54,351
- Wickets taken: 4,027
- Bowling average: 13.3
Yes, he certainly was a character.
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