Geoff Boycott: A Cricketing Hero. Leo McKinstry

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      Part of the answer to the riddle of Geoff Boycott lies in the huge influence his mother Jane had over him. Theirs was an intensely close relationship, so close that Boycott never considered leaving the family home while she was alive. Even when he was an international sporting star in the seventies, she still washed and ironed all his laundry. ‘I owe it all to Mum,’ Boycott has often said, and there is no doubt that Jane doted on her eldest child, doing everything she could for him. Not surprisingly, he says that he resembles his mother much more than his father, believing that he inherited her characteristics of fortitude and resolution. ‘She was a very, very determined lady, with a lot of inner strength in a quiet way,’ he has said. ‘She would never be easily got down.’

      Boycott may have also inherited his notoriously sharp tongue from his straight-talking mother. Local Fitzwilliam newsagent Harry Cordon told the Yorkshire Post in August 1977, the day after Boycott scored his hundredth century: ‘His mother comes in here a lot, a marvellous lady, but like everybody in this part of the world, she’s not averse to calling a spade a spade. I suppose Geoffrey himself is very much like that, and that’s why some people may not have taken to him.’

      The attention that Jane lavished on young Geoffrey may have had a number of paradoxical consequences. One was the feeling that, with such unquestioning parental support, he could achieve anything he wanted – psychiatrists have often referred to the almost messianic sense of purpose that can grip an eldest son who is close to his mother. But on the negative side, the intense love may have also made him suspicious of the outside world, leading him to appear a loner, unable to trust others. Throughout most of his playing career, the only two places he appears to have felt totally safe were either at home or at the batting crease. His neighbour and childhood friend from Fitzwilliam, Bernard Crapper, recalls how Geoffrey’s mother appeared over-solicitous towards her son: ‘She was all right, but she was over-protective of Geoffrey. She was always coming out to see where he was, checking who he was with. She and Geoffrey were very close. I was in and out of his house, used to play in his yard. But then, after an hour or so, his mother would come out and tell Geoff he had to come in.’

      Even worse, Geoffrey may have become somewhat spoilt, at least in emotional terms, a trait that could have lasted to this day. One television producer told me: ‘The impression I have long had of him is that of a spoilt child, the brat who always wants his own way.’ Despite wartime rationing and low wages, Geoffrey was treated generously by his family. His uncle Albert Speight – Jane Boycott’s brother – recalls: ‘When he was born during the war, things were very hard to get. My parents used to collect all the sweet coupons so that Geoff would have some chocolate. You see, with him being the first grandson in the family, it was a tremendous boost.’ Even his shoes were polished by his parents.

      Such a warm atmosphere may have provided Geoffrey with a security that few other children enjoyed. Yet at times, it seems that it was almost smothering, creating a mood of claustrophobia. In fact, Boycott occasionally voices his dislike of the pattern of family and community life in which he grew up. Before the onset of cancer, the themes of freedom from commitment, not being tied down to one place, ran through his adult life. In an interview on Radio Five in November 1998, when Nicky Campbell asked him about his ‘unconventional’ lifestyle, he said: ‘I grew up in a mining community, saw everybody have kids, have greyhounds, pigeons, an allotment and I wanted to travel.’ Again, cricket offered the means of escaping such a narrow existence.

      Some observers from Fitzwilliam would argue that the most telling characteristic Boycott took from his mother’s side of the family was the Speight gift for causing social friction. ‘The Speights could be a bit obnoxious. They had this sort of tough, ruthless attitude,’ says Bernard Crapper. Arthur Hollingsworth, the local newsagent, is perhaps most revealing of all on this subject, since he knew and worked with both sides of the family: ‘Geoffrey was not a Boycott. The Boycotts were very different from the Speights; they were quiet, whereas the Speights were as awkward as bent nails. I used to drive to his grandfather, old Ned Speight, in my pony and cart to deliver a tub of coal for him. And he wouldn’t give you the sweat off his brow.’

      Whatever the feelings about the Speights, two of them, Boycott’s mother and his uncle Albert (known as Algy), were to play a crucial role in the early development of his cricket, which soon became the driving force of his life: his uncle by introducing him to league cricket and his mother by conducting games in the backyard of 45 Milton Terrace. In the 1850s, it had been W.G. Grace’s formidable mother Martha who famously encouraged her children’s initial steps in cricket in the family orchard. Ninety years later, in the 1940s, Jane Boycott was to act in a similar fashion, organizing playing sessions at the rear of the house with just a bat, a bin and her two younger sons, Peter and Tony. ‘Mum kept on making my brothers and I practise shots and techniques in the backyard until we learned every shot in the book,’ Boycott said in 1963.

      Because of his special talent for cricket, his parents made considerable sacrifices to further his career: buying him equipment, paying for cricket lessons and helping him through grammar school. But there was no sense of resentment from his two younger brothers at the support Geoffrey was given. Peter Boycott told me, ‘All three of us were treated exactly the same way by our parents. Yes, Geoff got extra help with coaching but as far as Tony and myself are concerned, there was absolutely no favouritism.’ Tony, the middle son, is three years younger than Geoff, and worked as a fitter in the coal industry before taking early retirement. Peter, eight years younger than Geoff, followed his father’s advice ‘not to go down pit’ and works as a transport manager. To this day the Boycott brothers remain close. ‘There has never been any rift in our family. Geoff puts great store by loyalty. He has always been there for us, a great brother, and, likewise, if he wants help on anything, all he has to do is pick up the phone,’ says Peter.

      Both Peter and Tony have been useful cricketers without aspiring to the heights achieved by their elder brother. Tony, an opening batsman and left-arm spinner, is still playing, while Peter, a former middle-order batsman, now umpires in the West Riding League. ‘Geoff and I are different characters,’ says Peter. ‘If I had shown the same total dedication as Geoff I might have made it as a professional. But, from his earliest days, Geoff was so self-motivated, determined and single-minded. Anything he puts his mind to, he succeeds at. I’m very proud of him.’

      It was, perhaps, inevitable that Boycott, from his earliest years, should have had an enthusiasm for the game, for cricket then was as much part of life in Fitzwilliam as the colliery. Given the great strength of Yorkshire in the 1930s, winning the county championship seven times in nine seasons up to 1939, few local schoolboys could have ignored the game. And cricket then was far more important to our national culture than it is today, especially in the north of England. But what was unique about Geoffrey Boycott was the depth of his passion for it. As his childhood friend from Fitzwilliam Malcolm Tate recalls: ‘Going back to his very earliest days, he were always cricket mad, just like me. We used to go for long walks in the fields around the village and we would talk about nothing but cricket for hours on end.’

      His ability was also obvious to Bernard Crapper, though it was helped by the fact that Geoff, as a result of his family’s support, had better equipment than the other boys in Milton Terrace: ‘We used to play games in the cobbled street. The wicket would be a dustbin or a chalk mark on the wall. Only Geoff had a proper bat, the rest of us had to make do with crude bats made from planks or wooden fencing. For bowling we used a well-worn tennis ball with no fur. The ball would bounce off at awkward angles from the cobbles, shooting away in one direction, or keeping low, or going straight up in the air. I have often thought that is where Geoff got his great technique from dealing with the ball coming at all heights and directions. The rest of us would never last very long, with the dustbin often rattling after only three or four balls but Geoffrey, of course, could stay there for quite a time. He did used to sulk if he got out and could be a bit tempestuous.’

      Cricket was also played on the tarmac playground of Fitzwilliam Junior School, which Boycott attended from the age СКАЧАТЬ