Chris Wilkins - an obituary

The passing of Chris Wilkins, announced today, at the age of 74 is the passing of part of my childhood.

We all have our heroes, and the South African batsman was the first that I recall. He was usurped, on a permanent basis, by Eddie Barlow, but the thought of his cricket has always brought sunshine memories to the darkest days.

I started watching Derbyshire in 1967 and batsmen didn't so often bat against the clock so much as the sundial. 'He'll never die of a stroke' said my Dad about more than one regular. Attrition was the order of the day, an occasional shot a relief from the ongoing tedium.

I'd make honourable exception for Mike Page and also for Peter Gibbs, who came from university to play shots we were not used to seeing, especially through the covers. You wouldn't, however, go home saying you'd just seen an amazing innings by Ian Hall/Derek Morgan/David Smith et al. Worthy players all, but they ground it out and accumulated.

Then came Chris Wilkins.

Derbyshire were late in the overseas market and didn't sign one until the 1970 season. Only we and Yorkshire held firm, the latter because they had a very good team, didn't need one and - well, were Yorkshire. Us because we barely had the money to pay our own.

Essex had Keith Boyce, Glamorgan had Majid Khan, Gloucestershire had Mike Procter, Hampshire had Barry Richards - the list went on. Nottinghamshire signed the big cheese himself , the great Sobers.

And we signed a South African that no one had heard of called Chris Wilkins.

To be fair, good judges in that country suggested him 'better than Barry Richards'. That was not fair, as there have been few in the history of the game batted better than the imperious South African opener. And when Wilkins appeared over here and was first photographed swathed in sweaters at photo calls, which made him look the size of Colin Milburn, we wondered what we had let ourselves in for.

The first few damp weeks did little to dispel doubters. Wilkins opened the batting and struggled against the moving ball, making few scores above 30. It was decided to move him down the order to number four. Then it happened.

Wilkins showed himself to be a brilliant striker of a ball. You would turn up for matches hoping that Gibbs and Smith might make a start but that Smith wouldn't stay too long, as he wasn't, to my young and uneducated eyes, very exciting. Then Mike Page might get going and get a few, but you hoped, really hoped, that they'd see enough shine off the new ball for Wilkins to come in and play his shots.

I considered myself his lucky mascot, as I never saw him make less than 35. There was the usual 'ooh' when the second wicket went down, but it was as much a noise of anticipation as disappointment. As the outgoing batsman made his way to the pavilion gates, you would see people sitting up in their seats, others putting down newspapers and more hurrying back from the bar or the loo as we waited for Wilkins to make his way from the pavilion, arms swinging and eyes blinking to acclimatise to the light. To my young eyes he was the greatest thing I had ever seen.

The thing was, and it could be his downfall, Wilkins was as likely to go for the bowling first ball as any other time. In his superb book on cricket captaincy, Mike Brearley recounted how his arrival at the crease always required mid off and mid on to go deeper, the ball likely to sting their hands or clear them in a normal position. He played HIS game, sometimes with scant disregard for the match situation and I could imagine the frustration of team mates if he gave it away early. Yet when it came off...

I vividly remember several innings by him, one on a turning wicket at Chesterfield in 1970 where Northamptonshire spinners (Breakwell, Swinburne and Steele) were causing problems. Wilkins twice went down the track and hit off spinner John Swinburne into the boating lake, making it all look so easy. Finally perishing after a very brisk 68. he exceeded this in the second innings with the fastest century of the season, from seventy-odd balls.

At Derby in the John Player League there was a flawless 50 against Surrey, with one six over mid-wicket that just missed Dad's Ford Anglia. Then at Buxton, we were slaughtered by Jack Bond's marauding Lancashire, with Frank Hayes, Faroukh Engineer and John Sullivan putting them way out of our reach.

Still, Wilkins went down fighting. That day he hit Clive Lloyd's medium pace for a straight six that is still the biggest I have ever seen. Batting at the pavilion end, it was still rising as it left the arena, and another ball was required. 

Chris Wilkins was not the best overseas player we've had by a long way. His average was OK (30-40) but nothing spectacular. You couldn't play in that style and average over fifty though. In the modern era he would have made a fortune.

Don't get the idea he was like Shahid Afridi, all slog and little substance. He could play, but often chose to go with the muse and regularly chose the aerial route. He was a useful right arm medium pacer (he got Boycott once on 99 - how many have done that?!), a brilliant fielder in the covers, an excellent first slip and a stop gap keeper. He also once dismissed Zaheer Abbas while bowling slow left arm... Alan Hill told me that he was also the first player he saw play a switch hit, in the nets at Derby, when he hit David Wilde, no slouch, a country mile from a left-handed position. All things indicative of natural talent, even if it wasn't always applied.

Two more memories to close. At Ilkeston we were chasing a Hampshire score of around 170 in the 40-over John Player League and weren't too confident. They had a fair side and their opening bowlers were "Butch" White, a lively handful for any side, and the legendary Derek Shackleton, one of the game's most economical bowlers.

This was the day that David Smith went berserk. After a slow start where we despaired of any sort of challenge, he took on Shackleton and hit him to all parts. Well, mainly over mid wicket, with pulls, sweeps, hoiks and cow shots. He made 80 in the time he'd usually reserve for reaching double figures, then got out with only ten needed.

In came Wilkins. Bam! Bam! One four, one six, two balls, game won.

Finally a Sunday televised game against Hampshire. Barry Richards made a quite breathtaking 80 for them that day, but when it came our turn to bat.so did Chris Wilkins. We won on the last ball and at the end of the game it appeared that those good judges were right. 

On that afternoon, at least, there really was nothing between them.

Rest in Peace, Chris Wilkins. 

You entertained us royally.