It does not disappoint.
Admirably researched, it tells the tale of a man who emerged from the ninteenth century phenomenon of 'clown cricket' to become the country's pre-eminent left arm spinner - indeed, one described by WG Grace as the best in the world. He played in the first Test match, took over a thousand wickets in his ten first-class summers, yet was sacked by Yorkshire at the age of 35, dead ten years later.
Peate's problem, as the author explains in detail, was that he liked a drink. His many admirers wanted to buy him one and he found it hard to say no. Yet in that he was no different to most of his teammates. The book's title comes from how Lord Hawke was supposed to have described the under-performing Yorkshire side when he took charge in 1883. It was he who sacked Peate, yet it seems he was by no means the biggest problem in the side.
Peate's almost meteoric rise to fame and his slow fall to penury and premature death are very well captured by the author, whose research is as impressive as his writing. The book beautifully captures the age and the role of cricket, as well as painting vivid portraits of the incredible characters within it.
Peate was the first of a long line of outstanding left arm spinners in Yorkshire and can count himself unlucky that, although he lived a far from blameless life, he was the example that was made to 'encourage' the others. Bobby Peel, who replaced him in the Yorkshire side, gave far greater problems yet was tolerated for much longer by the man who released his predecessor.
So why was he sacked, missing out on a benefit that would have made his retirement secure, even for a man not known for fiscal propriety? Perhaps Lord Hawke wanted an example made, his decision made easier by the presence of the younger Peel, a better bat and his supposed equal with the ball. That the latter was given far greater leeway adds fuel to that argument, but it did little for Peate and his wellbeing.
His remaining life was one of declining health and eyesight, still playing with success in club cricket, despite a widening girth, but aware that his plan for after the game, a sports shop in Leeds, was failing, with declining profits after his retirement. He died of pneumonia, a few days after being soaked on a trip to the theatre, in March 1900.
He lies in an unmarked grave in Yeadon cemetery, to the left of the runway at Leeds-Bradford airport. He is not alone in his last resting place being unmarked, as Derbyshire greats George Davidson and Bill Bestwick, among others, lie similarly unrecognised.
There's a worthy job to be done there, for all three.
Speaking of worthy jobs, Ian Lockwood has done a fine one here, in a book that I heartily recommend. Likewise, Pitch Publishing have delivered another worthy title to their outstanding catalogue.
Ten Drunks and a Parson: The Life and Times of Ted Peate is written by Ian Lockwood and published by Pitch Publishing
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