From Distant Lands to Derbyshire 3 - Lawrence Rowe

The news that Derbyshire had signed West Indian run machine Lawrence Rowe in the winter of 1973-74 was met with near disbelief.

Rowe had burst onto the international scene with a succession of innings that suggested a player of genuine brilliance. His early big scores were all made at his home ground, Sabina Park, Jamaica, but a triple century against England at Bridgetown, Barbados that winter whetted our appetite for a summer where runs would surely cascade from his bat. Would he score 1500? Maybe even 2000 runs?

On his debut against Sussex at a freezing County Ground, as far removed from Jamaica as you could be, Rowe stroked a delightful 94 against an attack including his winter adversaries, John Snow and Tony Greig. The innings showed him to be a stylish, elegant batsman with shots all around the wicket. Derby in early season was no place for the faint-hearted. but Rowe, who seemingly was loathe to leave the warmth of the electric fire in the dressing room, impressed everyone watching. This was despite wearing any sweater he could lay his hands on, making him look of far more substantial build than was the case.

I saw him several times that summer, sixteen years old and desperate for a sporting hero. I'd listened to the radio during the previous winter, as commentators waxed lyrical about his strokeplay. Dad and I just grinned at one another, envisaging Rowe leading a Derbyshire resurgence. We saw him play some of the most delightful cameos, thirties and forties of poise, beauty, charm and elegance, then were frustrated as he continually gave it away. Rowe often whistled as he batted - nerves, confidence or just an affectation? If the latter, it needed backing up with runs. If the former, maybe it was a factor in under-achievement.

That May, in a televised game against Gloucestershire played at Bristol, he eased his way to 71 runs, playing every shot in the book in what amounted to a batting masterclass. Deft late-cuts, a square cut like a rapier, a cover drive of genuine elegance, a hook for six when Brian Brain dropped one short. "His defensive technique is the best I've seen on a West Indian" said Dad, who had seen all of their post-war greats. He toyed with David Graveney, before playing around a straight one and departing in a most disappointing manner. It was as if he'd had enough, like watching a world-class tenor fluff the high C at the end of an aria otherwise sung faultlessly.

Watching Rowe, one was struck by two things - how still he was at the crease and how much time he had to play his shots. The fastest of bowlers appeared to be of little consequence, yet he kept finding ways to get out when he should have been filling his boots. He didn't so much hit the ball as caress it to the boundary, but was dismissed when his bat seemed as wide as a door. Have a look at the video below and see what I mean:

We listened to the cricket scores on the radio and it was always the same. "Lawrence Rowe made a stylish 38/45/56/72" - whatever, yet he never bettered that debut score. We saw him against Yorkshire at Chesterfield, again in the John Player League and he opened with Tony Borrington. He eased a four past mid-on and then added another with his text book cover drive, the front knee bending, the follow through held for the cameras. He was class, C-L-A-S-S. The Yorkies were about to be put to the sword, then suddenly he was gone. Run out, the bowler knocking Borrington's firmly-struck drive onto the stumps at the non-striker's end as he backed up too far. There was a draught across Queens Park from the heads being shaken as Rowe walked slowly to the dressing room with his head down.

So why didn't it work out for Lawrence Rowe? He was unlucky with niggling injuries, though there were suggestions in some quarters of hypochondria. John Wright's autobiography records a team mate telling him of Rowe undergoing a fitness test in the nets, batting on a wicket that was pretty poor. He never missed a ball, looked in a different league to anyone else and then to general incredulity, professed himself unfit. He suffered badly from hay fever, specifically an allergy to grass. In a 2007 interview, he said that his eyes were "constantly itching...sometimes I would go in to bat and I could hardly see". It explained a lot.

A knee injury hampered him to some extent, but "eye trouble" kept raising its head from people you spoke to and his later career was blighted by astigmatism in his leading left eye, something that couldn't be satisfactorily treated with glasses. Others suggested that he feared failure and disappointing people, the pressure building up inside him, something he refuted

He signed off with 26 against Northamptonshire at Derby, yet another innings that promised much but ended in disappointment. If we had known more about the seriousness of the eye problem we might have been more understanding, but Rowe was to remain a talent largely unfulfilled. A century in World Series Cricket, 175 against a fit and flying Lillee and Thomson, is still regarded as one of the finest innings played in Australia. There was another brilliant century in South Africa on the rebel tour too, but the good days for Lawrence Rowe became more sporadic. His career finished with a Test average of 43 and a first-class one of 38. His talent was enough for both of those figures to have been at least ten runs higher.

For a man who, when he batted, looked at least the equal of Viv Richards it was not enough. It just shows that all the talent in the world still needs a little luck. With a decent left eye, Lawrence Rowe would have been one of the all-time greats.