Lunch: a suggestion

Turning out for London County against the first West Indian touring side at Crystal Palace in 1900, WG's lunch consisted of 'a real whack of the roast, followed by a big lump of cheese and a whiskey seltzer'. He was 52 at the time. He made 71.

Take that one to the bank, sports nutritionists...

Fixtures They Don't Play Any More... But Could

1886, Lord's

Smokers versus Non-Smokers

Grace, who, despite being a qualified doctor, went through life mistakenly believing he only had one lung, played for the Nons. They won.

Nominations for the current smokers XI welcome...

King of sprain

After the summer of Flintoff's knee, England has entered the spring of Rooney's ankle. For those living in saner countries, Wayne Rooney is our Fred equivalent in the prole game of footer. The other day he fell over with no-one near him, and caused a national palpitation when it appeared the injury might be serious enough to keep him out of the World Cup.

Luckily for those looking forward to England's unconvincing progress to the quarter-finals before elimination on penalties to either Portugal or Germany, he'd only sprained it. He'll be out for three weeks.

The sprained ankle is one of those injuries that has remained impervious to the progress of medical science. In 1867, the Sporting Life reported: 'From May 10 until June, Mr WG Grace was laid up through a sprained ankle'.

See, it doesn't matter whether you're WG or Wayne Rooney, whether it's 1867 or 2010. Sprained ankle = three weeks out. 

NB: Hopefully Wazza will have more luck than the good Doctor had in '67. He'd been back for 10 days when he caught scarlet fever, which laid him low for a month, and then he split his finger fielding, which kept him out for the rest of the season. 

The going down of the sun

Today is sort of the birthday of this blog, or at least it's the birthday of the man whose picture adorns the top of the page: Happy 161st WG. 

In one of those coincidences of fate, Henry Allingham, the world's oldest man and a survivor of Ypres, passed away in the early hours of the day. Henry was the last person alive to have seen Grace bat, at the Oval in 1903. A line through time has has died with him. 

Grace remains a giant of the game, his life the great stone on which it rests. What he'd make of cricket today we can only guess, but it's probably fair to say he wouldn't have been a fan of Hawkeye. One of the best stories in Simon Rae's titantic WG Grace: A Life concerns the good doctor's battle with Essex's Charles Kortright, a prototype tearaway quick who tore into Grace in a match at Leyton, driving him back with short balls before having him caught behind and plumb LBW in the course of one over.

Dander up, Grace growled and glared at the umpire, daring him to raise his finger. He didn't. Kortright roared in once more,  ripping one through Grace and removing two stumps from the ground. The great man held the crease for a second longer before turing and stomping off, his mood as dark as his beard.

'Surely you're not going already, Doctor,' Kortright said, 'there's still one stump standing'.

Weapon of choice

Forget about Michael Vaughan's useless 'artballing', here's a genuine investment opportunity in the artistry of cricket: the good doctor WG Grace's bat.

Hard as nails, the colour of a conker and approximately as light and flexible as its owner, it's the bat with which Grace scored his 1,000th Test run, in 1896 at Lord's, the season he was a Wisden Cricketer of the Year.

You could follow the history of cricket just by charting the development of the bat, its form and its language, from WG's 'fully corded grip' to this and its ilk. 

Grace's bat has some powerful vibes in its grain. He gave it to Syd Gregory, who played against him at Lord's. Gregory gave it to his brother-in-law Harry Donnan. Harry was one of Bradman's early mentors at the St George cricket club, and he passed the bat to the club president. The bat is back in England for the first time in 113 years.

Yours for £25-30,ooo. Sold. Now let's see Chris Gayle open the batting with that...

One size fits bugger all

Ian Blackwell got the first hundred of the season yesterday. But that wasn't the figure that caught the eye. Blackwell says he's lost 10 kilos over the winter, although he 'declined to give' his actual weight. Still north of 13 stones one would guess. He's a big-boned lad.

Blackwell has left Somerset, where he lurked as a village blacksmith of a player, for Durham, where he's a batting all-rounder. 'I think [Somerset captain Justin] Langer wanted me to be a bit fitter,' he said. 'He also told me he had an issue with my throwing arm, which I disputed. I didn't see myself fitting into the mould'.

So 10 kg lighter, Blackwell has buggered off - a case of heeding the message but blaming the messenger.  'He could not bring himself to use the first name of the Australian,' reported the Times. David Hopps went as far as calling him 'a wasted talent'. Blackwell was seen in conversation with Geoff Miller at Lord's, no doubt assuring him he can fill in where Samit Patel ['fat, unfit and lazy' - KP] has missed out.

All of which implies that Blackwell will play better if he's thinner, rather than just more dedicated. The truth is somewhat different, however much the legions of fitness trainers and conditioning coaches who surround pro cricketers would like it. Cricket is about fitness for purpose.

Virender Sehwag could be thinner. So could Shane Warne - who could also knock the smoking on the head - and so could Jesse Ryder. Not to mention Inzy, for whom no net session was complete without a wicker chair for him to sit in while he awaited his turn to bat. Where's the evidence that says they'd be better if they shed the timber?

Cricket - sport - is a meritocracy. Talent doesn't always apply itself to the hardest working or to conventional thinking. It's alright to be fat if you're good. The doctor himself, WG, played his last first class game this week in 1908. He'd only been playing for 43 years. Not bad for a big lad.

The Few

Still on the melancholy subject of time, Bill Stone died last month. He was 108, and one of the last four men to have fought for Britain in World War I.

Three remain of the five million who went. One of them is Henry Allingham, who is 112, and who fought at Ypres. He's Europe's oldest man. In 1903, at the Oval, he watched WG Grace bat. He is the last human on earth who can make that claim. 

He didn't visit the Oval again for 103 years. He's the only man who can say that, too.