THE GOOGLY: Derek Pringle – Essex and England daze

HUW TURBERVILL: The Cricketer’s reviewer Richard Hobson described Pushing the Boundaries as something akin to Confessions of a Cricketer, ‘with Pringle as an Oxbridge Robin Askwith’. I have now found out for myself.

I have always been a contrarian, so when everybody’s favourite cricketer in the 1980s was Ian Botham, mine was Derek Pringle.

Like me, he was an allrounder, a medium-pacer who had to think and prise batsmen out, rather than rely on speed.

He was a character and clearly clever. And for Essex at least, he was a pretty powerful striker of the ball (which is why I could never understand why, on national service, under his duck-egg blue lid, he would poke and prod at times, his enormous, 6ft 4ins frame hunched over his Duncan Fearnley as if it was a toothpick).

His status in my affection was cemented when I heard what a fantastic sport he had been at my club, Deben Valley, who played at Woodbridge School, in Suffolk.

It was Ken McEwan’s testimonial, in July 1984, and certain bigger Essex CCC stars who shall remain nameless clearly treated the day like a bit of a chore (as it undoubtedly was for anyone with wives and children in tow).

^{Derek Pringle had a batting average of 23.61 in ODI cricket}

Pringle threw himself into it, though, batting (he made 60-odd), bowling, then volunteering to come down the Seckford Arms, where he tucked into real ale, shook hands with the men and kissed the ladies (so I am told – I was only 11 at the time so I missed the pub bit).

I then worked with him at the Telegraph, before his sad departure a few years back.

It is good to see him back on form then, penning a book that has had the cricket world talking recently.

The Cricketer’s reviewer Richard Hobson described Pushing the Boundaries as something akin to Confessions of a Cricketer, ‘with Pringle as an Oxbridge Robin Askwith’.

I have now found out for myself. I devour cricket autobiographies. My favourites have been Gower (with Martin Johnson) and Gooch (with Frank Keating). Pringle’s tome (not strictly an autobiography as it hones in very specifically on 1982­–1993) is also immensely readable, and yes, there are some racy stories in it, although I suspect I might be more difficult to shock than Hobbo.

The story where the England players watch a porn video called Billy’s Big Banana in the Lord’s dressing room while Chris Tavaré bats in the 1982 Test against Pakistan is astounding by any standards, however.

Another anachronism for the contemporary reader is the stick Pringle received for choosing to play a Test for England (his second, against India in 1982) rather than lead Cambridge University in the Varsity match. Seems inconceivable now.

I was also shocked by the famous story of the pig smuggled by some Aussie med students into the Gabba during an ODI against England… you know, the one that had Eddie written on one side (after Hemmings) and Botham on the other. Apparently it was anaesthetised, placed on ice in an ‘eski’ and then resuscitated when the japesters made it into the ground. Poor thing.

There is also an eye-opening story about the late, great comedian Peter Cook, and an extraordinarily vicious tirade against a woman who had paid to accompany Botham and his entourage – including Pringle – on a corporate trip to La Manga during his benefit.

^{Pringle played for Essex for 15 years}

Speaking about viciousness, you also forget how judgmental and vindictive elements of the press pack were in the 1980s. They had a puritanical set of standards that they failed to adopt in their own private lives. Most cricket journalists are so much more touchy-feely/’woke’ these days.

The book ends with the 1992 World Cup, and the revelation that Pring’s room-mate, Chris Lewis, used to order 10 dishes of room service at a time – he had a spoonful of each and left the rest to stink the place out.

Then, in the final at the MCG, Pring thought he should have had Javed Miandad lbw in the final. Who knew?

I interviewed Pringle for the December issue of The Cricketer.

The first question summarises the book, the others did not make it into the magazine but are still interesting…

What did go wrong for England in the 1980s?

We were not well run. As a result, that decade was bookended by rebel tours. Those tours didn’t help our playing power, but obviously those involved felt the need to do it because they thought they were getting a raw deal from the TCCB.

You were picked then dropped with alarming ease unless you were one of the four or five big-name players: in and out of the side, often at the whim of a bad game. We didn’t get paid a huge amount, although it was better after Packer. The krugerrand came along and it looked attractive.

England were consistent in their inconsistency but was it a chicken and egg thing? Did they chop and change because they were inconsistent, or did the chopping and changing make them so? If the press got on your case a bit, heads would roll.

My hobbies…

When I was introduced the other day at a literary festival they said I was interested in archaeology – I don’t know where they got that from! I was interested in conchology (seashells) when I lived in Kenya. That coast was amazing, before the reefs were cleaned out.

I love photography, but I lost my beloved Leica camera in India, during the 2011 World Cup. I have never had a digital camera except for the one on my phone.

^{Pringle and his beloved Leica camera}

His childhood was in Nairobi.

School was good but it changed overnight when they phased out Asian and English teachers.

My father Don helped me with the cricket (he played for East Africa in the 1975 World Cup), and my mother and sister bowled the hard yards in the garden.

My father was killed in a car crash so we moved to England and I went to Felsted School at 14.My sister Janet played rugby for England. That is Andy Peebles’ favourite question: which brother and sister played for England?

There are two chapters on Essex…

There’s the Fletch years, then the Gooch years, though the latter was stop-start with Fletch helping out while Goochie, whose batting form took a dip to start with, decided if he really wanted to be captain. The Flooch years! Gatt is a good guy. But the best captains I had were Fletcher and Gooch.

So why was Essex so well-run?

Fletch learned his trade from the bottom up. By the time I joined he was seen as a father figure. Ray East or David Acfield occasionally questioned him, but he wouldn’t get a peep out of anyone else. He was authoritarian in a good way.

I thank my lucky stars I played for Essex because they were talented and interesting cricketers. John Lever took me under his wing, Eastie too. For that team cricket was serious on the field, funny off it.

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