More men who came back

 I do hope that somewhere in the BBC archives, or in a private recording, or notes - at least in a more permanent form than my imperfect memory - there is a record of a remarkable tribute paid by John Arlott to Wilf Wooller. Most of the obituaries of Wooller almost dismissed his wartime incarceration as an interruption to his sporting career (the Indy's does somewhat more justice) but there was much more to it than that. 

The tribute almost came out of nowhere. It was not a case of de mortuis, because I am pretty sure that all the persons named by Arlott were still alive at the time. The occasion was one of those prolonged breaks during Test Match Special when commentators and expert summarisers embarked on a discussion to fill in the time before play resumed. It started with a look back at the famous (or infamous) 1976 home series against the West Indies when David Steele and, at the age of 45, Brian Close were brought in as the best players of fast bowling in an attempt to withstand the attack of Michael Holding and Anderson Roberts (with Wayne Daniel as occasional back-up). There was an undercurrent of anti-colonialist feeling in the West Indian camp, exacerbated by England's choice of a scion of Southern African white supremacy as captain. This came to a head during the Third Test as described here.

Close was proud of the punishment he took and was not shy of showing off his bruises to the gentlemen of the press. The extent of his bruising was exceptional and Arlott remarked that it was the most he had ever seen on a man - with one exception, the result of an attempt at intimidation of Wooller by an ambitious young Peter Loader. Wooller was already in his forties and Loader in his mid-twenties, and probably at his fastest, when Glamorgan and Surrey met in the county championship. Wooller  continually needled Loader, no doubt reasoning that in losing control of his temper the bowler would also lose the control of his bowling. The result was a sustained barrage at the body rather than the wicket from which Wooller did not flinch.

There were men, Arlott said, who told him they owed their lives to that courage and the ability to survive harsh punishment. In Changi, Wooller supported them through the worst of the Japanese prison camp régime. In some cases he practically bullied them into staying alive so that they were able to return to their families, emaciated but alive, after VJ Day. 

The fact that Arlott, a card-carrying Liberal, and the autocratic arch-conservative Wooller were politically poles apart underlines the respect that Arlott had for Wooller as a person. Wooller was very sparing in words of praise, but I would like to think that he respected Arlott in turn.