Bob Willis passed away on Wednesday, December 4th, aged 70. When he announced his retirement in 1984, Bob Willis had carried the burden of sole spearhead of England attack for years. In the 1985 Wisden Almanack, David Frith put his career in context.
First published in the 1985 Wisden Almanack.
Richardson had Lockwood; Larwood had Voce; Trueman had Statham; but Willis was almost alone. Just how much of an extra force for England Willis might have been, given a regular complementary strike bowler, is a question which will hang suspended in time. True, he linked with Botham for several series, and believed in his partner implicitly – until the final phase, by which time Botham had lost his thrust and Willis himself, still valiantly withstanding the hardships of ageing frame and suspect knees, sensed that the sand in his own hour-glass was nearly all in the bottom.
For one who is often outrageously convivial in a social setting, Bob Willis could be surprisingly, even shockingly, solitary when in cricket battledress. The young man flown to Australia in emergency during Illingworth’s 1970/71 tour bent himself into predatory shape in the gully and held some spectacular catches; but Willis the Elder, a dozen years on, unlikely captain of England, struck a memorable and almost perpetual pose in the isolation of mid-off, thin arm across concave chest, large hand propping that promontory of a chin, blue-grey eyes seemingly glazed against what became, in 1982/83 and 1983/84, a painful scene as England’s mediocre bowling was exposed by the batsmen of Australia and New Zealand.
When, as almost an unknown, he was flown to Australia in 1970 as a replacement for Alan Ward, he was on Surrey’s books. When a county cap to place alongside his England cap (never actually worn into action, incidentally) was not forthcoming, he took himself off to Warwickshire. Having helped Surrey to win the 1971 County Championship, he underlined his value to his new county without delay, taking 25 wickets in his nine Championship matches after seeing out a half-season ban for the abruptness of his move. He rounded off Warwickshire’s own Championship triumph in 1972 with eight for 44 against Derbyshire in the last match, securing the first of his two first-class hat-tricks.
In the 12 seasons since then, some of them curtailed by injury and most by absences on England duty, Willis took 285 Championship wickets for his county at an average of 25.51. Clearly, with 325 Test wickets at 25.20 he takes his place in the Hall of Fame as an England bowler of immense stature, but with relatively scant county achievement to go with it. Had he stayed on for longer spells for his county, though, he almost certainly would have faded several years ago.
There was something tantalising about seeing Willis and Snow in tandem for Warwickshire when the Sussex bowler, then 38, was induced to come out of retirement in 1980 and helped his new county to win the John Player League. How different might the shape of England’s Test cricket have been with those two operating with the new ball throughout the 1970s? Now both are gone, Willis with his marathon run-up and too tightly contained emotions, his bent for the zany monologue and his flat, resounding laughter. The stage is empty, and all England awaits another courageous man of speed. Preferably a pair.
