Cricketing tales

Most collections of cricketing stories contain the same tired old tales. A new Australian collection claims to be something different. And, if the first example is anything to go by, then I would be very pleased to see Tales from the sport's field in my Christmas stocking.

The first tale is typical. It is called The Towel. It tells of how at the end of a day's play in a Sheffield Shield match at the SCG in 1928, Archie Jackson borrowed a towel from teammate Alec Marks and failed to return it. Marks' mother was aghast; it was her best towel.

The next day, a red-faced Jackson replaced it with a new towel, still in its wrapping. Marks' mother was unimpressed, for the quality of this new towel was far inferior to the old. "I can't understand Archie's behaviour," she said. "He always seemed like such a nice boy."

Three years later, Marks visited Jackson as he lay dying from tuberculosis. Jackson raised the matter of the towel, saying he already knew at the time that he had TB and made a point of not lending or borrowing others' towels, but had forgotten that day.

Rather than return it, he had bought another. "The man behind the counter said it was the best towel in the shop," he said. "I hope your mum liked it."

Marks, feeling a lump in his throat, told Jackson his mum had declared it the best towel she had owned. That night, he went to his mother's linen closet, took out the towel Jackson had bought, sat down on his bed, put his head in it and cried.

The book is written by Alec Marks' son, Neil, and is reviewed here.