M. W. Tate: A Great Cricketer

Press, Volume XCIII, Issue 27978, 26 May 1956, Page 3

M. W. Tate: A Great Cricketer

r PHAT Maurice Tate, who died in A England a few days ago, should have reached the age of 61 seems to be a contradiction in terms; for those who saw him bowl, or read of him. he has remained, and will remain forever young—cheerful of countenance, large of feet, and with an action so perfectly controHed that not once in his 50.000 overs-was he guilty of bowling a noball. New Zealanders, who have been fortunate enough to see most of the best post-war cricketers at least once, had only a brief acquaintance with Tate, but it is a reflection of the stature of the man that he was as well known here as any of his contemporaries. Tate was a typical Sussex cricketer in appearance. Like Wensley, Bowley, the Langridges and Jim Parks, he was ruddy-cheeked and smiling, and he shared with 1 them their slow speech and dry wit. In the middle 19'20's Tate was a magnificent bowler, but for his county and England he was usually without support. In one calendar year he took 65 test wickets with his fast-medium outswingers and seamers. He was also a cheerful and competent batsman. and his capacious hands held scores of catches. When he first reached greatness as a bowler Tate had, as his pace

bowling partner for Sussex and Eng = land, A. E. R. Gilligan, and for a brief = period this pair defeated the best in = the country; they bowled South Africa ? out for 30 at Birmingham in 1924. : Their tremendous partnership was : broken when Gilligan was injured = while batting. A heavy blow over the 1 heart ended his career as a fast bowler, = and Tate from that point was almost ' alone. i Had the present leg before wicket i rule, which allows a bowler to dis- : miss a batsman if the ball pitches out- = side the off stump, been in force in = Tate’s time, his extraordinary sue- = cess would have been increased = markedly. At the Hove ground, = particularly, he could swing the ball away viciously, or make it turn back I abruptly. His pace off the pitch was s astounding. i Tate’s was a great all-rounder’s re- ? cord. But no better assessment of him = can be found than that with which = John Arlott ends his small but de- 5 lightful biography of the man.

“Go,” says Arlott, “to the old- h a n d county cricketer o f the twenties. Ask him about ‘Chub' Tate. . . . The name always evokes response. You can almost imagine the shrewd fingers of memory testing the quality of Tate's cricket in recollection. ‘There was a bowler for you.’ He will tell you that the batsmen were

lucky—all of them—if ‘Chub’ didn’t get them when they first came in; how often he beat them and how often and how narrowly he missed their stumps how often he hit them. He will tell you how you could never be sure, however well

set you were, that he would

not bowl you an over the shop when you were playing a strict defensive stroke. He will tell you

suoKe. ne win ten you, too, in his own fashion, how watching Maurice Tate bowl was a fine thing.

how it set a thrill inside the chest like fine music when he ran so smoothly and so mightily to bowl, and the ball swung to the pitch and left it an angry devil which snarled at the knuckles or spat at the edge of the bat. He will tell you ‘Chub’ was the unluckiest of all great bowlers. And he will tell you that he could roll out a fine round oath when the slips dropped a catch, or the ball flew for the tenth time only a coat of varnish from the bails, or when the cautious pad kept his thunderous break-back out of the stumps. But, he will add. he had usually a grin, and always as many words as you wanted. He will tell you that ‘Chub’ was a great bowler, and a good chap.” At the start of his first test, Tate fielded at' square leg. Five time he leaned confidentially towards the umpire, hand to mouth. Each time he was interrupted. After the sixth ball, Tate spoke. “ ’Ot, ain’t it” he said. That was Tate—simple, unaffected, loved by the cricket public.