Hazare and Mankad at Bramall Lane

Brian Sanderson on a famous partnership

In July 1946, under typical Sheffield skies—grey, begrimed, gloriously indifferent—a match was played which is still green in my mind. No, I was not there, but I have “seen” it, as one sees the events of a great novel—not with the eyes but with the soul.

It began with a benediction on perseverance: Arthur Booth, the slow left-arm spinner, received his county cap. He was forty years old. He had waited and watched and weathered the years, and now, with greying hair and deliberate gait, stood ennobled—a belated but deserving beneficiary of cricket’s long memory and its irregular sense of justice.

Yorkshire, batting first, hit up 300 for six declared. Paul Gibb contributed 71—an innings of neat geometry rather than flamboyant architecture. His strokes were measured, unhurried, and his bat spoke with the clarity of good prose. India were seventy for three when the light faded.

The second day dawned brighter, the wicket quicker and flatter; the outfield was a promenade. The Yorkshire bowling offered no menace greater than fast-medium, and with Booth confined to the dressing room, nursing a thigh strain, Vijay Hazare (above) and Vinoo Mankad (below) settled into a comfortable rhythm. What they could not force they glanced, and what they could not glance they defended or left alone. A missed ankle-high catch in the gully seemed a gentle concession to fate.

At five minutes past one, the score touched 200. By lunch it was 246—Hazare 116. The afternoon brought further milestones: The total reached 300 at five past three; then, in short order, Hazare’s 150, Mankad’s century, and the 300 partnership. By ten minutes to four it had grown to 322, twenty short of India’s fourth-wicket record. Then Mankad fell for 132.

Yorkshire managed another breakthrough—Lala Amarnath, leg before, at 378—but no more. Hazare marched on to 244 not out, and Pataudi, princely in name and manner, joined him in a late flourish. At six o’clock the feast was over: India declared at 490 for five.

The second innings began in misfortune: Gibb had his finger trapped between ball and bat handle, and was forced to retire hurt. Dim to begin with, Yorkshire’s prospects were now almost occluded. Their best hope was rain, and on Tuesday it came, washing away a match which deserved a grand finale. But the 18,000 who had gathered on Monday would carry their memories of Hazare and Mankad deep into the winters to come.