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Basingstoke Boy
Basingstoke Boy The Autobiography
304 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1990
About the author
John Arlott
123 books6 followersLeslie Thomas John Arlott OBE (25 February 1914 – 14 December 1991) was an English journalist, author and cricket commentator for the BBC's Test Match Special. He was also a poet and wine connoisseur. With his poetic phraseology, he was an iconic cricket commentator noted for his "wonderful gift for evoking cricketing moments" by the BBC.
Memorable quotes about Arlott:
"The very personification of Cricket." Prime Minister John Major, 1991
"He was Cricket, there has never been a commentator like him and there never will be." Ian Botham, former England Captain, 1991
"I think that he spread the gospel about Cricket around the world more than anyone else." Brian Johnston, fellow commentator, 1991
"A man of deep humanity." David Frith, editor of Wisden Cricket Monthly, 1992
"He was generous with his time in the company of friends. I once sat down to Sunday lunch with John, his family and some friends at two o'clock, and we did not get up from the table until ten at night." Mike Brearley, 1992
"Johnston provided the life, Arlott the soul." Paul Coupar writing about the history of TMS on its 50th anniversary 2007
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
July 9, 2020
Having given this book only two stars, perhaps I should explain why. I was too young to be a fan when Arlott was at his journalistic peak so I bought this book to find out more about a famous name that those of my father's generation seemed to admire. But strangely not my father; which was unusual, as Arlott came from a working class background and, by his own efforts, pushed himself to the forefront of his profession. My father usually held such people in esteem.
It is not my place in life to criticise another's personality: I have far too many of my own faults. However, having read Basingstoke Boy, I came to understand something of my father's opinion. Which, I think, centred on one thing, and it is something that the author describes in a way that explains old feelings that rankled.
Arlott joined the Southampton police force in 1934 and seems to have had a straight-forward time, in policing terms. As Arlott says: “It cannot be too strongly emphasized that Southampton in the 1930s was quite strikingly free of evil, and especially of violence.” The war years, as they are described, seem to have been a time of air raid duty, minor crime, and intellectual preparation for poetry and a BBC radio contract. The pay and conditions weren't bad either. For my father, and those like him, struggling in the mud and dust and hoping the next shell or bullet is not aimed at you, must have seen it as a sheltered life with a smooth transition to a good job when the shooting stopped. In this book the author gives the ingenuous impression that it was not something he planned: this good fortune was forced on him by the BBC and the Home Office.
That alone would be a pretty poor reason for two stars. I have others: the use of the third person becomes annoying, quite quickly; so much of the book is taken up with rehashing old reports of cricket matches – I bought the book to find out about John Arlott's life not the 1956 Test matches in England; and there is a constant feel that anything unflattering or unsympathetic about his behaviour has been whitewashed over. The whole autobiography is not a satisfying read; well, not for me.
It is not my place in life to criticise another's personality: I have far too many of my own faults. However, having read Basingstoke Boy, I came to understand something of my father's opinion. Which, I think, centred on one thing, and it is something that the author describes in a way that explains old feelings that rankled.
Arlott joined the Southampton police force in 1934 and seems to have had a straight-forward time, in policing terms. As Arlott says: “It cannot be too strongly emphasized that Southampton in the 1930s was quite strikingly free of evil, and especially of violence.” The war years, as they are described, seem to have been a time of air raid duty, minor crime, and intellectual preparation for poetry and a BBC radio contract. The pay and conditions weren't bad either. For my father, and those like him, struggling in the mud and dust and hoping the next shell or bullet is not aimed at you, must have seen it as a sheltered life with a smooth transition to a good job when the shooting stopped. In this book the author gives the ingenuous impression that it was not something he planned: this good fortune was forced on him by the BBC and the Home Office.
That alone would be a pretty poor reason for two stars. I have others: the use of the third person becomes annoying, quite quickly; so much of the book is taken up with rehashing old reports of cricket matches – I bought the book to find out about John Arlott's life not the 1956 Test matches in England; and there is a constant feel that anything unflattering or unsympathetic about his behaviour has been whitewashed over. The whole autobiography is not a satisfying read; well, not for me.
Displaying 1 of 1 review