Tim Robinson was always going to become the hero of Mark Church, a confirmed cricket tragic.

Published in 2008

It was 24 years ago when it happened. I was nine, and had the flu. Sent home early from school I was wrapped up in bed and feeling sorry for myself. The only saving grace was that my dad had stuck the radio by the bed and I was able to listen to the second Test between India and England from Delhi. I didn’t know it at the time but England had lost the first Test in Mumbai by eight wickets. I was embarking on my first experience of staying up late and listening to the cricket.

I don’t remember anything of the Test apart from one thing. Whilst slipping in and out of sleep I kept hearing the name ‘Robinson’. Robinson, Robinson…This Robinson was making his first Test hundred in only his second Test and he was taking his time about it. Every time I nodded off the commentators were talking about Robinson and when I woke up they were still talking about Robinson who was still batting and seeing off the threat of the longest sounding name I had ever heard. “And it’s Sivaramakrishnan to Robinson…”

And that’s where it all started for me and RT Robinson. I have never been cool and trendy and the fact that Tim Robinson was my cricketing hero probably illustrates the fact. For the record he made 160 in England’s first innings of the Delhi Test and batted for over eight hours. England won the Test and went on to win the series 2–1 thanks to the heroics of Fowler, Gatting and Foster in Madras. Robinson finished the series with 444 runs, averaged 63 and had engrained himself in my cricket psyche.

I wanted to be Robinson. Why? Because from what I heard on the radio he batted forever and I quite like that idea (on that tour to India he was immortalised in the song, “Old man Robbo, he just keeps batting along”). The problem was I didn’t know what he looked like when he batted. In my imagination he was very neat and tidy at the crease and a colossus who would see off anything India threw at him. I knew he would be batting when I went to sleep and still be batting when I woke up but what did he look like at the crease? With no TV pictures I had to rely on photos in my Cricketer magazines (I was now a subscriber!) but those were only a few snapshots, including one of Robinson sitting by the pool writing postcards home at Christmas! I realised he was no swashbuckler but he was obviously someone you could rely on, and that appealed to me.

Timing is everything. Robinson had opened in India with Graeme Fowler and England came back knowing the Ashes of 1985 were just around the corner. Robinson and Fowler knew a certain Graham Gooch was just returning from international exile. Fowler was coming off the back of a double hundred in Madras and Robinson had established himself during the India series. Gooch would play. But who would open with him.

Australia arrived and there were three one-dayers. Fowler got the nod for the first game with Robinson left on the sidelines. Fowler only made ten and Robinson came in for the second and third games. He didn’t score many but it was my first glimpse of the upright, studious opener with the enormous arm guard.

And then it began – the Ashes. England were led by Gower (who had found form in the final one-dayer), Botham was back with his streaked mullet, Gatting had the confidence of a first Test hundred under his considerable belt and Gooch, with his white crash helmet, was ready to open. Robinson, who got the nod to join Gooch at Headingley, was playing his first Test in this country. Australia had this very fast bowler who sprinted to the wicket called McDermott and a slightly older chap called Thomson with grey hair. Australia batted first and got 331 with the ‘happy hooker’ Hilditch getting a hundred. Then it was England’s turn.

I was glued to the telly. It was the first time I had really watched Robinson. Tall, upright, neat, tidy. Short-sleeved shirt, blue helmet with a visor, armguard and those double-fingered gloves. I remember he went quietly about his business, his Gunn and Moore ramrod straight as he glued the England innings together. He cut, drove and pulled and batted for nearly seven hours, scored 175 and sent England on their way to a five-wicket victory. And when he got to his hundred there were no histrionics – bat in right hand, left fist clenched, smile on his face under the visor. Robinson had arrived.

I was straight in the garage with bouncy ball and bat trying to be Robinson. I went as far as dragging my mum to a toyshop to buy a plastic blue police motorbike helmet with a visor and I made my own armguard out of a white sock with a towel in it. That whole summer I tried to be Robinson as he scored another hundred in the fifth Test at Edgbaston (Gower got a sublime double hundred and England won thanks to Allan Lamb’s ankle) and England sealed the series at The Oval as Les Taylor caught and bowled Murray Bennett.

It was a magical summer and it seemed Robinson had the cricketing world at his feet. But then England went to the West Indies and it was back to the radio for me. Even though the West Indies had destroyed England the previous year this was the team that had won the Ashes, was led by Gower and had Robinson in their team. To me they had to win and Robinson would score hundred after hundred. The West Indies unleashed Garner, Patterson and Marshall, England lost 5–0 and my boy averaged nine. The one photo I remember from that tour that summed it up for me was my hero pushing forward with his off stump cartwheeling behind him. England had been destroyed and the Ashes summer seemed like a distant dream.

From there Robinson was in and out of the England side. He played the first Test at Lord’s against India in 1986 and made the last of his Test hundreds against Pakistan in 1987. But it never quite seemed the same. His last Test was during the Ashes series in 1989. England were getting battered by the Aussies and Robinson was brought in at Old Trafford for the fourth Test to bat at three. He made a duck in the first innings and 12 in the second. England lost by nine wickets.

Some people have said that Robinson never recovered from the tour to the West Indies in 1986. I wouldn’t know about that because I can only think of the good times. That summer against Australia when he always seemed to be batting, that was it for me.

He kept playing for Nottinghamshire until 1999 and finished with a first-class average of 42. He averaged 36 in Tests, with four hundreds. He is now an umpire on the first-class circuit. And even as an umpire he still looks neat and tidy.

Published in 2008