On top of the world: England’s great Ashes summer of 1953 – Almanack

There was something special about 1953. In England, things were finally looking up after the grim war years and the struggle to put matters on an even keel afterwards. Rationing was on the way out, it was no longer obligatory to wear a hat in public at all times, and pop charts and flighty fashions were tiptoeing their way in. The mood was epitomised by a youthful new sovereign – the youngest since Victoria in 1837. Queen Elizabeth II, aged 25 on her accession, was crowned at Westminster Abbey on June 2, 1953. Within a month she was meeting 22 of her subjects, English and Australian, in front of the Lord’s pavilion.

In an age of uncomplicated national pride, there were plenty of reasons to be proud of Britain. The day before the Coronation it was announced that a British-led expedition had become the first to climb Everest. At Epsom, Gordon Richards, the master jockey, won the Derby at his 27th attempt. At Wembley, Stanley Matthews jinked his way to an FA Cup-winner’s medal at last, in a classic final. At Cambridge, Francis Crick and James Watson were breaking the code of human life with their paper on DNA.

The crowds were huge, and expectant – and they went away happy in the end. But, as Bailey argues, “I’ve always thought that if Hassett had gambled and put us in at The Oval then they might have won. But he batted instead, and the ball moved about a bit on the first day, then it turned later on. They had left both of their spinners out, but we had Laker and Lock. Actually I always had my doubts about Hassett as a tactician. His players adored him – he was one of the boys, whereas his predecessor Don Bradman was of a different generation – but tactically he wasn’t as strong or as sharp as Bradman. Bradman was especially good after the war, I think. He was still scoring an awful lot of runs, and he was like a god to the younger players. In 1948, England were short of fast bowlers and I thought I had a chance. I was at Cambridge University at the time but I went down specially to play for Essex against the Australians in May. That was the day they made 721 at Southend – and it was then I realised that I was never going to be an out-and-out fast bowler, not once I’d seen people like Lindwall and Miller. I did get Bradman out once, though. It was a long-hop, as I recall.”

England’s XI from The Oval in 1953 has a good claim to being their best ever. Stuffed with all–time greats, the side was Len Hutton, Bill Edrich, Tom Graveney, Denis Compton, Peter May, Trevor Bailey, Godfrey Evans, Jim Laker, Alec Bedser, Tony Lock and Fred Trueman, with Johnny Wardle huffing and puffing about the indignity of being made twelfth man.

They not only had formidable Test careers but remained closely involved with cricket long after retiring. There were no forgotten men as there are in most teams, such as their opponents (remember Graeme Hole, or Jim de Courcy?) and the Ray Wilsons and Roger Hunts of England’s 1966 football World Cup winners. Bedser and May both became chairman of the Test selectors, and Hutton was a selector too for a time. Compton juggled a chaotic life of commentaries, endorsements and missed engagements – often with his lifelong soulmate Edrich. Laker added northern nous to the television commentary box, along with an inability to pronounce the “g” in words like “batting” and “innings” that drove retired schoolmasters in Eastbourne to distraction. Graveney also had a longish career at the microphone with his catchphrase “really speaking”. Bailey and Trueman were trenchant radio summarisers for years, stressing the need for line and length to generations of cricket-lovers. Lock moved to Australia to prolong his playing career, led Western Australia to the Sheffield Shield title, and became a coach there. Evans, complete with improbably large sideburns, set the cricket odds for bookmakers in the days before that assumed sinister overtones.

John Woodcock, the veteran Times correspondent and former Wisden editor, is better placed than most to comment on just how exceptional this team was. “It was certainly as good a side as England have fielded in my time,” he says. “It’s a better team than those that won the Ashes in Australia in 1970-71 and 1986-87, and as well balanced as the one that won in 1954-55. The side that won easily in Australia in 1928-29 was obviously a very good one, and there’s always talk of the team from 1902 that had 11 century-makers in it – but even I’m not old enough to have seen them. Comparisons between different eras are awfully difficult, but you have to go by how many great players there are in each team, and there were plenty in that 1953 side.”

Bailey is inclined to agree. “By 1953 Bradman had retired, and although Australia still had probably the better team, there wasn’t much in it. We had Hutton and Compton, who were world–class batsmen, a world-class medium-pacer in Bedser, and Evans was the best wicketkeeper around. We had Laker and Lock, who were a real handful on a dodgy pitch, and young batsmen like May and Graveney. For the final Test of 1953 we also had a genuine fast bowler in Fred, who was certainly a lot quicker than Alec and myself. We had a good side, we were just coming to the top – and we stayed there until the end of the 1950s.”

It wasn’t all praise, though. Hutton’s reign as captain is remembered now for slow scoring, and over-rates that were considered funereal for the time. England may have achieved world domination for the rest of the decade, but they were often unappetising to watch. Freddie Brown, chairman of selectors in 1953, took the unusual step of attacking his own team: in the following year’s Wisden, he wrote that he had found “an almost unanimous disquiet about the lack of attack in the England batting”. Brown pointed out that England had scored at 33 runs per 100 balls in the series, as against Australia’s 44. The difference was most marked in the Fourth Test at Headingley, where England, trying to save the game, pottered about at a strike-rate of 24 to Australia’s 56. However, Woodcock isn’t sure about the near-unanimity: “I don’t remember too much fuss being made at the time. If England batted slowly, which I dare say they did at times, it was because it was important that they did so in order to win, and I think they can be forgiven for that.”

The slow batting, and all the rain, mean that 1953 cannot be ranked as the best Ashes series of them all. That remains a toss-up between 1894–95, 1902 and 1981. But this one did signal a shift in power, from Australia to England, and defined the style of the decade. There were more soggy draws than rumbustious run-chases.

Bailey is unequivocal. “Nobody seemed terribly bothered about it at the time. We were winning. We got the result, that’s what it was all about.”