Bearders in memoriam

We at Bogun Towers have, we have to admit, been somewhat off the top of our game of late (although we blame our subject for leading a currently blamelessish life for the majority of that) but the muse has all but deserted us in consequence of the greatest tragedy to hit the world in recent years - the death of Bill Frindall (we acknowledge that trying to kick-start our muse with ridiculous hyperbole is a bit silly). We reproduce below, without acknowledgement, the obituary from The Times.

Through the popularity of ball-by-ball radio commentaries on Test Match Special, Bill Frindall became the best-known scorer in the history of cricket.

Dubbed “the bearded wonder” by the commentator Brian Johnston on account of his facial hair and command of statistics, he was heard — but never seen — by thousands of cricket followers. This invisibility did nothing to diminish his standing when he was off the air.

Frindall did not fit to the popular image of a cricket scorer. He was neither hunched nor a retired old pro, and he was too immersed in up-to-date technology to use a quill pen. He was that rarity in the game, a career statistician, one who revived an old linear system of scoring with a column for each batsman and each bowler. He was highly competent and efficient and sufficiently confident of his primacy to proclaim on his website that he would be publishing his memoirs to coincide with the 40th anniversary of his career with TMS in 2006. Bearders: My Life in Cricket duly appeared.

When listeners did hear him pronounce, the comments were invariably well timed (never as the bowler was beginning his run-up), dry, sometimes witty and on occasion censorious of one or two of the commentators in the box. He was not above telling a colleague that he had identified a fielder incorrectly. He did not flap and could come up with a statistic in a markedly short time. He was able to earn a supplementary living as a decent after-dinner speaker as well as publishing and retailing his own score-sheets to international, county, club and individual scorers throughout the world.

For 23 years he edited the Playfair Cricket Annual — in which mistakes were rarely spotted — and provided statistics for The Times and the England and Wales Cricket Board. He was also the archivist to Sir Paul Getty’s estate and wrote or edited more than 20 other books. He had a spell as cricket correspondent of the Mail on Sunday from 1987-89, but this was not the happiest time of his career.

William Howard Frindall had the distinction of being born on the first day of the “timeless” Test at Durban in 1939. By the time it ended, he was already 11 days old. He attended Reigate Grammar School in Surrey and joined his first cricket club after he was taught to score by a master one rainy afternoon. After studying architecture at Kingston School of Art and spending his National Service in the RAF, when he scored at representative matches, he made his debut on TMS in 1966, succeeding Arthur Wrigley, when he was only 27. This was in an era when a number of scorers of first-class cricket were of pensionable age.

His method of scoring derived from that devised by Bill Ferguson, an Australian, in 1905. Based on a textbook for umpires and scorers compiled by R. S. Rait Kerr, a former secretary of MCC, this involved the use of three types of scoresheet: ball-by-ball record of play, innings scorecard and cumulative record of bowling analyses and extras. It accommodated more facts and, after 1966, was taken up by all BBC radio and television scorers.

Frindall soon demonstrated that he had the necessary concentration to cope with long days and stuffy, noisy commentary boxes.

“Like the best performers at any art, he seems to have so much time to spare,” Peter Baxter, the producer of TMS, said. “I know that when I have tried scoring, cups of coffee go cold because I simply cannot find time to consume them; whereas Bill can pour himself a cup at the back of the box without ever taking an eagle eye off the game.”

Before computerised scoring, Frindall taught himself to write left-handed in case an accident prevented him from being able to use his right hand. Such dedication led to a certain self-obsession and a competitiveness with fellow BBC scorers, notably Wendy Wimbush (who was initially known as “the beardless wonder”) and Irving Rosenwater.

On one occasion in 1981, during a memorable series between England and Australia, Frindall declined to provide statistical information to BBC television that he had managed to obtain for himself, with the consequence that Rosenwater read out incorrect information to the viewers. This resulted in a strongly worded memo being sent to Frindall by the BBC management. Although Frindall worked for many years at close quarters with some of the longest-serving and most familiar names in cricket-commentating, such as John Arlott, Christopher Martin-Jenkins and Henry Blofeld, and toured overseas to countries where he still felt comfortable after the removal of his spleen, his relations with most of them remained on a largely professional footing, without developing into close friendships.

The exception was Arlott, of whom he felt scared when they first met in 1966 but who soon put him at his ease. Frindall would impersonate the great commentator in after-dinner speeches and act as his chauffeur when travelling to matches.

Whenever the international schedule permitted, Frindall would play club cricket. A fast-medium bowler with a high action, he ran the Maltamaniacs, a touring side that usually completed its matches in Guernsey — his team-mates dubbed him “Hitler” because of his dictatorial tendencies — and he also played for Banstead in Surrey, Hampshire second XI, the Lord’s Taverners, MCC, Singapore, France and the Clergy of Oxford and Salisbury.

He was the inaugural president of British Blind Sport between 1984 and 2004 and the Patron of the German Cricket Board in 2005. He was given an honorary degree for his contribution to statistics by Staffordshire University in 1998 and appointed MBE in 2004. He also enjoyed sketching, painting, photography and philately.

Apart from his autobiography, he published a number of books which became standard reference works, notably The Wisden Book of Test Cricket, which went into five editions, and The Wisden Book of Cricket Records, which was also regularly updated.

Frindall married, firstly, Maureen Wesson, with whom he had two sons and a daughter. The marriage was dissolved in 1970. In the same year he married Jacqueline Seager. This was dissolved in 1980. In 1992 he married Debbie Brown, with whom he had a daughter.