Years later, when I returned to the Test scene in the summer of 1989, I had my first brush with the wackier side of Ted. He had just taken up his position as the new chairman of the England committee with promises of a more professional approach and a brave new world for English cricket after years in the doldrums. Here he was, the man to lead the charge towards a glorious new dawn, making a complete and utter fool of himself in front of the players.
We had arrived in Birmingham the day before the third Test against Australia and were due to meet in the hotel conference room for the customary pre-match meal, get-together and tactical team-talk. This is the time when the players can exchange ideas about the strengths and weaknesses of opponents and establish a few operational rules. Although those who have played Test cricket with me over the years will tell you that my input was normally minimal and usually confined to ‘he can’t bat, I’ll bounce him out’, it’s true that what is discussed in these meetings can occasionally make the difference between winning and losing. This time, however, Ted turned what should have been a reasonably serious discussion into a night out at Butlin’s. As we filed in, Ted stood in the doorway handing out songsheets.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. There in black and white was the score to the hymn ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ while underneath was Ted’s own version, entitled ‘Onward Gower’s Cricketers’. It is worth reprinting in full, see page 24.
‘Right’, said Ted. ‘Now look, lads, when you get in the bath tonight, I want you to sing this at the top of your voices.’
I thought to myself ‘What the hell is going on? Whatever he’s drinking, I’ll have a pint!’ I had played upwards of 90 Tests and suddenly here was this guy telling me in all seriousness to sit in the bath and sing about knocking the ‘kang’roos’ flat and not upsetting Ian Todd, the cricket correspondent of the Sun. David Gower, the skipper, looked as though he was having a near-death experience. The rest of us just sat there in stunned silence. I can’t imagine what the younger players thought. All I do know is that neither I nor any of the other players did much singing in the bath that night.
| Onward Gower’s cricketers, | From the swing of Botham, |
| Striving for a score, | Aussie batsmen flee, |
| With our bats uplifted, | On then Dexter’s cricketers, |
| We want more and more, | On to victory, |
| Alderman the master, | Border’s men shall quiver, |
| Represents the foe, | At the shout Howzat!, |
| Forward into battle, | Brothers lift your voices, |
| Down the pitch we go. | Knock the kang’roos (sic) flat. |
| Onward Gower’s cricketers, | Onward Dexter’s cricketers, |
| Striving for a score, | We don’t mind the Waugh, |
| Don’t despair too early, | Don’t despair too early, |
| The lion soon will roar. | The lion soon will roar. |
| Like a mighty army,Moves the Stewart squad,Brothers we’ll do anything,Not to upset Ian Todd,We are not divided,All one body we,For Richie, Illie, Tony and Jack,We’ll rewrite history. | ||
| Onward Stewart’s cricketers,Indulgence we emplore (sic),Don’t despair too early,The lion soon will roar. |
| Jones and Boon may perish, | Onward then the media, |
| Merv may rise and wane, | Join our happy song, |
| Marsh won’t last till lunchtime, | Blend with ours your voices, |
| Though Taylor may remain, | In the triumph song, |
| Gates so big can never, | Glory laud and honour, |
| ’Gainst Foster’s swerve prevail, | To David G the King, |
| We have Gooch’s promise, | Just this once, and hell why not, |
| And that cannot fail. | Let us his praises sing. |
| Onward England’s cricketers, | Onward Gower’s cricketers, |
| Getting off the floor, | Our failures please ignore, |
| Don’t despair too early, | Don’t despair too early, |
| The lion soon will roar. | The lion soon will roar. |
Just before Ted resigned at the end of the 1993 season, and after his comments about England’s poor showing having something to do with the juxtaposition of Venus in relation to the other planets, he complained that every time he opened his mouth he was ‘harpooned and lampooned’ by the press. It was probably one of the simplest tasks of their journalistic careers.
I am still at a loss to explain exactly what his role in the England set-up was. All I know is that he frequently caused huge embarrassment to himself and others. It is hard to take seriously a chairman of selectors who calls his premier fast bowler Malcolm Devon and then gets all excited about the prospect of picking a batsman called Jimmy Cook, who just happens to be South African.
I recall the time that John Morris and Jonathan Agnew realised they had no chance of going on the winter tour to the West Indies in 1989/90. They had arrived at the Porter Tun Room in the City of London for the Cricket Writers’ Club annual dinner on the eve of the NatWest Final to which several past and present cricketers are invited as guests of the members. This is the time when, traditionally, most of the talk is concerned with who will be in the squads for upcoming winter tours. When Morris and Agnew set off for the evening they must have thought they might have been in with a squeak. After their conversation with Ted they knew they had another think coming. ‘Excuse me, chaps’, Ted called out as he was walking down Chiswell Street in search of the venue. ‘You two look like cricketers. Do you know where this dinner is taking place?’
These stories may be amusing in hindsight, but as a professional I find that kind of amateurish behaviour hard to tolerate. Ted might have been a fine player and a lovely guy socially, but as far as I was concerned he was taking money under false pretences, money that could have been diverted to many other projects that would have served the game better.
But my opinion of him is not just based on the obvious gaffes he committed at regular intervals. For it was during that disastrous series of 1989 that I found not only was Dexter a man I could not respect, he was also a man I simply could not rely on at all.
Our performances throughout that series were undistinguished to say the least. Looking back, we had started off on the wrong foot even before a ball had been bowled. After the 1988 winter tour to India had been called off due to the Indian Board of Control’s objection to the inclusion of players who had been on the first ‘rebel tour’ to South Africa in 1982, England were looking for a new captain. The original choice of Dexter and the manager Micky Stewart had been Mike Gatting, but when that was vetoed by the chairman of the TCCB, Ossie Wheatley, who for some reason felt that Gatt had still not served sufficient time for his supposed misdemeanours,