The Ashes Come Home

In her glorious old imperialist days, England exported her national sport so fervently that the sun never set on cricket.* The ones who learned cricket best, England discovered to her sorrow, were the sturdy Australians. After England's second loss to the Aussies, the despondent London Sporting Times wrote: "English cricket . . . died at the oval, Aug. 29, 1882 . . . The body will be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia." The Ashes eventually became the invisible symbol of victory in the matches. For the last 20 years, down-under cricketers have held on to the Ashes. Last week long-humiliated England saw a chance to win them back.

Of the current rubber's five matches, four had been draws. Thus everything rested on the fifth. Twenty-four hours before it began, a wave of hope far wilder than ever gripped a partisan World Series crowd in the U.S. swept Britain. Queues lengthened outside London's Kennington Oval. Intoned the London Times: "The cricket community at the opposite ends of the world stands with bated breath."

Winning the toss, Australia chose to bat first. In cricket, as in baseball, the best batsmen lead off the order. To England's joy, the Aussies' best were quickly put out. But then Australia's "tail wagged"; her weaker batsmen managed to build their team's total to a respectable 275 runs before their tenth and last wicket fell (i.e., the side was retired on the equivalent of three baseball outs). Then England batted, scoring 306 runs to gain a lead of 31 on the first of the match's two innings. On the third day, with Australia up at bat again, England's bowlers tore into Australia, putting them out for a measly 162. Triumph for England was only 132 runs away, and before dark her batsmen got 38 of them, for the loss of only one wicket. Ninety-four to go.

British sportswriters made remarkably uncricket exhibitions of themselves. Wrote the Daily Mirror's Peter Wilson: "We took them by the throat and scruff . . . We took them neck and crop, bag and baggage, hip and thigh, skin and bone, and we bundled them out . . ." Retorted an Aussie writer: "No trumpets yet, England!"

As the final day dawned, even London's Communist Daily Worker stopped scowling at capitalists long enough to huzzah:

"A wonderful day for England!" Gritted the Daily Herald: "Cricket is, of course, only a game. So is climbing Mount Everest. But how this nation needs those runs."

With snail-like caution, England resumed batting. The bowled balls bounced crazily off the now-frayed turf. In the early afternoon, some 25,000 tautly silent fans watched the Aussies claim another wicket--their last. At 2:53 p.m., England's Denis Compton swatted the winning run.

The crowds surged onto the field, trying hard to keep their cricket manners (e.g., signs warn that anyone asking for autographs may be removed from the grounds). But they wound up hugging and kissing their heroes and thumping them on the back. The press exploded in typographical fireworks. Bannered the

News Chronicle: ONE OF THE GREAT DAYS.

In Australia, defeat was taken with good grace. After all, Aussies noted, they are still handily ahead in the 76-year-old competition--68 wins to England's 57. Philosophized Sydney's Sun News Pictorial: "There is no need for the kangaroo to hide its head in its pouch. Those Ashes have not gone forever."

* In 1751, London trounced New York, 166-130, in the U.S.

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