The first real influence on my own cricket career was Howard Masters. A brilliant captain.
'H' as he was known, was a hugely successful young cricketer who played on the ground staff at the MCC, so he was talented. And ginger.
I was ignorant in bliss and unaware of this fact when I first arrived at the club as a bit of an 'enfrant terrible', why would I know or want to know? My view was that he wasn't telling me what to do.
H was a traditionalist, outmoded in today's game perhaps, but principles and morals were a must and he was a proper old school captain. A bit of the Douglas Jardine about him minus the cravat.
So any authority I refused to accept. I turned up late frequently, and one game didn't turn up at all. That was against Southgate, I remember it well as I got my mother to ring up and say a headache had gripped me.
One particular day stands out; us players, especially the younger ones, were encouraged to warm up before, show some zip and keenness - especially to the opposition when they arrived, and to look ready. My attitude was it was all beneath me and I was smoking a fag laid horizontal on a bench 10 minutes before the start. I thought I was Phil Tufnell.
H went ballistic. Apoplectic. So he relegated me to bat 10 or 11. My response was to say "fuck it, I'm not playing at all". I did play in the end, but I sulked.
He must have seen something in me as he started to open with me when I was about 16 in league cricket. I remember hitting a cover drive with a sweet Slazenger V12 that just pinged off the middle. It was to be my trademark shot, that and the sweep.
My respect for H dawned on me in a couple of games. I was his opening partner and H was well into his 50s when we travelled to Hatfield Hyde who had a quick left arm opening bowler. Seriously quick.
H got hit a couple of times without a lid (helmet) and took some body blows, but still got behind the ball. I on the other hand didn't fancy it with a lid on and was relieved I got out. I remember thinking as a kid how courageous he was.
The second occasion was a time we chased just over 100 and got them together. He talked me through the whole innings, urging me never to throw my wicket away.
From then on we got on well.
He encouraged my slow left arm spin rather than the quick filth he described, and he started using me in games as a spinner. Whenever I mentioned I fancied bending my back to unleash some pace his reply was: "Fuck off Dudders."
He was very generous and always looked after the younger players. So much so he paid for us to tour Brighton. I suppose it helped he was a millionaire. And the hotel was about 12 quid a night. Still... the Iron Duke had its upsides.
I think he finally retired when he was about 78. But to still bat at the top of the order at his age and manage the rabble that were the kids back then took some doing. I never ever turned up on time. But loved the card journeys home.
I was called Charlie Caroli once and had no idea who he was. Hopefully I was more than a clown, although I admit I daydreamer in the field when I wasn't bowling and was useless. I'd often switch off in the slips or anywhere, which is why I dropped some dollies.
My call came for Howard's touring team at a young age; playing for Wigmore at Southwick - a quaint little village ground with short boundaries either side. Anyway, I scored 101 as it was so easy either side of the wicket. I took four wickets and even kept a bit of wicket. As debuts go, that was a good one. My introduction to bitter was less so, it was fucking fowl.
Above all, H was great company at the bar. Especially paying for all those Banana Jammins at the club. Happy days with Moon and Geoff.
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