'Take us with you, Scotland' say thousands in North of England

BBC Trending

This map, created in 2014, has been widely shared again

Thousands of people in the North of England have been using the hashtag "take us with you Scotland" to express their upset about the result of last week's general election, and the Scottish nationalists are welcoming this English minority with open arms.

Since last Thursday's general election in Britain the phrase "take us with you Scotland" has been used more than 24,000 times. Cities in the North of England have traditionally been a stronghold of the Labour party who retained many of them in the recent vote, but won 232 seats overall, 26 fewer seats than they won in 2010. Voters in the region also returned Conservative MPs - including Chancellor George Osborne who is today setting out a plan for greater devolution to northern cities. For obvious reasons, the left-leaning Scottish National Party didn't stand in the region - but won nearly all the seats in Scotland.

On Sunday afternoon left-leaning voters in Yorkshire and Lancashire started to use the hashtag to express their upset at this situation. "#TakeUsWithYouScotland genuinely beginning to wonder if the North of England becoming a part of Scotland would be better for us, I really am" tweeted Aaron Miller from Yorkshire. Some cracked more jokes under the tag after the North West Motorway Police account, which gives traffic updates, announced that they had "picked up a pedestrian on the M62 who was trying to walk to Scotland".

After the initial spike of jokes on Sunday evening, the hashtag really took off when users start to mobilise around a year old petition on change.org, which is titled "allow the north of England to secede from the UK & join Scotland". The petition's creator, a Sheffield resident who calls himself "Stu Dent", set it up to coincide with last year's Scottish independence referendum. A map created by Dent imagining the boundary of a "Scotland plus the north" was also widely shared.

Dent runs the Twitter account Hunters Bar, named after an area of southwest Sheffield which is very popular with students and which also happens to sit on the edge of the Sheffield Hallam constituency - represented by the former leader of the Liberal Democrats, Nick Clegg. Despite having thousands of followers on Twitter, when Dent first posted his map last year, the image was shared less than 100 times - but in the past week it's been retweeted by thousands.

Dent told BBC Trending that he was surprised at how popular his petition had become. "In hindsight, perhaps I shouldn't have been," he said. "There is a huge frustration in parts of the UK about the things that have happened since 2010."

"I think people need a place to go where they can say 'not in my name! This is not the England I want'," he added.

Thousands of people in the North of England have been petitioning for the region to be allowed to join Scotland

So why has the trend grown so big now? The election results are clearly one factor, but there may be another: the power of the Scottish Nationalists on Twitter and their ability to influence the discussion on the platform. What started as a post-election joke in the North of England was quickly embraced by the so-called "Cyber Nats" and they were able to push the image and petition up the Twitter trending list.

This tweet was retweeted 450 times and favourited more than 400 times by both Scottish and English users

More than 12,000 people from Scotland and Northern England have signed the petition and the map has now been retweeted more than 3,000 times. The SNP's social media strategist Ross Colquhoun expressed the party's mood about the hashtag best, in a post which was shared more than 500 times. "2014: #LetsStayTogether 2015: #TakeUsWithYouScotland What a difference a year makes" he tweeted.

The troubling flaws in forensic science

by Linda Geddes in BBC Future

“It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.” So said the fictional detective, Sherlock Holmes. Armed with his finely honed skills of backwards reasoning, his trademark ability to solve unsolvable crimes often hinged on his revealing evidence too small to be noticed.

Holmes was an inspiration for the very founders of modern day forensic science. As the decades passed and the tools in their armoury grew, so too did the sheen of invincibility that surrounded their discipline. But there was a crucial chink in their methods that had been overlooked: subjectivity.

While the likes of Holmes’s successors in detective fiction may lead us to believe that forensic evidence is based on precise deduction, all too often it relies on a scientist’s personal opinion, rather than hard fact.

Science on trial

Consider the following case. In December 2009, Donald Gates walked out of his Arizona prison with $75 and a bus ticket to Ohio. After serving 28 years for a rape and murder he didn’t commit, he was a free man. Now the spotlight began to shift to the forensic technique that put him there: microscopic hair analysis.

Human hair is one of the most common types of evidence found at crime scenes. During the 80s and 90s, forensic analysts in the US and elsewhere often looked to the physical differences between hairs to determine whether those found at a crime scene matched hairs from a suspect – like Donald Gates.

When he stood trial in 1982, an FBI analyst called Michael Malone testified that hairs found on the body of the murder victim – a Georgetown University student called Catherine Schilling – were consistent with Donald Gates’ hairs. He added that the probability they came from anyone else was one in 10,000.

“That’s very compelling evidence, particularly when it comes from a witness wearing a white laboratory coat,” says Peter Neufeld, co-founder of the Innocence Project, a New York-based non-profit organisation that uses DNA evidence to overturn wrongful convictions.

The FBI is now reviewing several thousand cases as DNA testing sheds new light on the truth (Credit: Getty Images)

However, hair analysis is not purely objective; I might think two hairs look identical, but you might disagree. Even if we agree that two hairs match, no-one has ever figured out how many other hairs might be similarly indistinguishable from one another. “When a person says that the probability is one-in-10,000, that’s simply a made-up number,” says Neufeld. “There’s no data to support it.”

Donald Gates was finally exonerated when DNA testing revealed that the hairs didn’t belong to him after all. Two similar exonerations followed soon afterwards. As a result of these cases, the FBI is now reviewing several thousand cases in which its scientists may have offered similarly misleading testimony. Last month, it announced that of the 268 cases it has reviewed so far that went to trial, 96% them involved scientifically invalid testimony or other errors by FBI agents. Among those convicted, 33 received death sentences, and nine have already been executed.

The FBI’s review won’t necessarily overturn the convictions, but it does mean that they need to be reconsidered carefully. Lawyers scrutinising these cases must work out what other evidence was presented in court; if they hinged on flawed hair testimony, retrials and exonerations may follow. In cases where the original physical evidence still exists, that DNA testing may shed new light on the truth.

Damning report

Even trusted lines of evidence, such as fingerprint analysis, are not water-tight. Research has shown that the same fingerprint expert can reach a different conclusion about the same fingerprints depending on the context they’re given about a case.

Based in part on these findings, in 2009 the National Academy of Sciences in the US published a report on the state of forensic science. Commissioned in response to a string of laboratory scandals and miscarriages of justice, its conclusions were damning. “Testimony based on faulty forensic science analyses may have contributed to the wrongful conviction of innocent people,” it said. “In a number of disciplines, forensic science professionals have yet to establish either the validity of their approach or the accuracy of their conclusions.”

The report was a wake-up call, not just for forensic scientists in the US, but around the world. “What it exposed were significant scientific deficiencies across many of the different methods that we use, both to examine and interpret different types of evidence,” says Nic Daeid, a professor of forensic science at the University of Dundee in Scotland. 

Of all lines of forensic evidence, DNA analysis was considered to be the most objective. Resting on complex chemical analysis, it seems stringently scientific – a gold-standard for how forensic science should be done. Yet perhaps juries should not be too quick to trust the DNA analyses they see in court.

Even trusted lines of evidence, such as fingerprint analysis, are not water-tight (Credit: Thinkstock)

In 2010, while working as a reporter for New Scientist magazine, I teamed up with Itiel Dror from University College London, and Greg Hampikian from Boise State University in Idaho, to put this idea of DNA’s objectivity to the test.

We took DNA evidence from a real-life case – a gang-rape in Georgia, US – and presented it to 17 experienced analysts working in the same accredited government lab in the US.

In the original case, two analysts from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation concluded that the man who was ultimately convicted of the crime, Kerry Robinson, "could not be excluded" from the crime scene sample, based on his DNA profile. But when the evidence was shown to our 17 analysts, they reached very different conclusions; just one analyst agreed that Robinson "cannot be excluded". Four analysts said the evidence was inconclusive and 12 said he could be excluded.

Yet just because forensic science is subjective, this doesn’t mean it should be disregarded; it can still yield vital clues that can help to catch and convict murderers, rapists, and other criminals. “Subjectivity isn’t a bad word,” says Dror. “It doesn’t mean that the evidence isn’t reliable, but it is open to bias and contextual influences.”

Blind judgement
What’s needed are additional safeguards to shield forensic examiners against irrelevant information that might skew their judgement. A first step is to ensure they aren’t given irrelevant information, such as knowing that witnesses have placed the suspect at the crime scene, or that he has previous convictions for similar crimes. Another safeguard is to reveal the relevant information sequentially – and only when it is needed. “We need to give them the information that they need to do their job when they need it, but not extra information that’s irrelevant to what they’re doing and which could influence their perception and judgement,” says Dror.

In the US at least, this is starting to happen: a national commission on forensic science has been established, with the goal of strengthening the field – and this includes looking at human factors like cognitive bias. But similar strategies are needed elsewhere if forensic science is to rebuild its tattered reputation.

When it comes to deduction and proof, there is still much we can learn from Arthur Conan Doyle’s hero. As Sherlock Holmes also once said: "Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth."

England's breakdown of trust

Andrew Miller in Cricinfo

They came to offer clarity on Kevin Pietersen, not to praise him. But they left without achieving either.

To be fair to Andrew Strauss and Tom Harrison, the incoming ECB director and chief executive, they tried so hard to be upfront. They did the media rounds with great diligence - upstairs, downstairs, inside and out - tirelessly traversing the Lord's pavilion to repeat themselves to TV, radio, digital and written press ad nauseam.

They presaged their words with woolly preambles about how sorry they were that Peter Moores had been shafted, and how excited they were about their organisation's new beginnings, and how now was the time to build a better future for English cricket.

But no matter how passionately they expressed their platitudes, or how multi-layered they made their appeals for a reassessment of the team's priorities, the white noise of corporate bullshit was precisely the last thing that we, the working media, and by extension, them, the disenfranchised masses so odiously dismissed by the previous regime as being "outside cricket", needed to hear.

Strauss and Harrison tried so desperately to move the issue along, but they might as well have been Ben Raine and Jigar Naik for all the plausible resistance they offered in the face of Pietersen's onslaught. And the net result was that today's grand unveiling was a desperate and troubling disappointment.

Fifteen months ago, a culture of silence enveloped the ECB after Paul Downton's catastrophic decision to sack Pietersen, accompanied by a cryptic press release, the contents of which could not be expanded upon because of an accompanying confidentiality agreement:

"We have decided the time is right to look to the future and start to rebuild not only the team but also team ethic and philosophy."

Leaving aside the energetic posturing and magnanimous looking-in-the-eye that Strauss and Harrison managed in the ECB's second attempt to set the record straight, today's utterancescould feel every bit as cold, flat and insulting to many cricket followers when laid out for digestion in tomorrow's papers.

"We've offered clarity today on the ECB position with respect to KP in the short- to medium-term," said Harrison. "We are drawing a line under it to say this is where we're going."

Really? Pietersen has not been sacked, but he won't be selected, and Alastair Cook, incidentally, has the full and unequivocal backing of the board. He probably deserves it after a year in which the old regime used him as a human shield, but that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the issues that demand to be addressed.

The ECB continue to believe that the primary issue at stake is a breakdown in trust between themselves and Pietersen. They could not be more wrong.

The more frightening breakdown is the one between the ECB and its once-devoted public, a hardy and by-and-large educated breed, who stuck with the team through thin and thinner in the 1980s and 90s but whose faith has been eroded by every wrong decision imaginable.

On Monday afternoon, cricket stood still as a Division Two County Championship fixture involving a team that has not won a match for two years became the most talked-about live event in the country.



Andrew Strauss smiles through a media interrogation © Getty Images


By Tuesday morning, the new director of England cricket was telling the public to move along, there's nothing to see here. Such a stance is an outrage. Leaving aside the characters involved - and that, clearly, has not been possible to do - what sort of a perverse world does English cricket inhabit if the hyper-promotion of a match involving its most endangered county is suddenly deemed a bad thing?

Pietersen's decision to turn his back on the IPL's group stages was, admittedly, made easier by the less-than-favourable terms he had been offered by Sunrisers Hyderabad. But he was merely responding to the apparent olive branch he had been offered by the incoming ECB chairman, Colin Graves.

Pietersen has fulfilled his side of the bargain, sometimes thrillingly, and as a by-product he has dragged stupendous levels of interest to every ground he has visited, not least a crowd of 2,000 for a non-first-class warm-up in The Parks. As Alec Stewart, his director of cricket at Surrey, stated in very sanguine fashion on Surrey TV, "Kevin is very entitled to feel let down."

And so is the rest of England's cricket family, for want of a better catch-all term. Harrison, to be fair, recognises the urgent need for the ECB to re-engage with its drifting public, to enhance participation and, tellingly, to stop "patronising" those who expect better from their sport.

But there are better ways to go about rebuilding those bridges than estranging the one man about whom everyone in the sport (and even those outside it) holds an opinion.

It would help if the new management team could avoid coating their explanations in precisely the sort of boardroom jargon that most white-collar sports lovers seek to escape when attending a cricket match

It would also help if the new management team could avoid coating their explanations in precisely the sort of boardroom jargon that most white-collar sports lovers seek to escape when attending a cricket match.

"It's important to have a successful team to address participation issues but there are numerous ways participation can be affected," Harrison said. "One of the reasons we've taken this decision is to bring clarity and stability to the England set-up."

Of course, it's not impossible that the ECB are right, that - much like the Conservative Party's attitude to the economy - steering a firm course through the choppy waters is the only way to reach that long-promised new beginning.

Strauss's insistence that Joe Root was ready to take on greater responsibility chimed with a sense that, even in defeat, there's a hardcore of campaigners being forged within this new England team. If, by some miracle, they can extend their 14-year unbeaten run in home Ashes series this summer, then all sins will be forgiven.

And Strauss, let's not forget, picked up the pieces after the first KP-Moores debacle in 2009 and returned the urn by the end of that summer.

But the invisibility of, and the indifference to, the current England team is frightening. Moeen Ali, the break-out star of last year's Test series win against India, failed even to receive a BBC Sports Personality of the Year nomination, when Lizzy Yarnold (with the greatest respect to the skeleton bob fraternity) did.

And that's the other great sadness of the treatment of KP. With the exception of Ian Bell, who played a walk-on role in the greatest Ashes summer of them all, Pietersen is the last of the free-to-air heroes of 2005.

Harrison insisted it was important not to link his box-office marketability with that fact, but who could have witnessed Pietersen's 355 not out at The Oval this week without winding the mind back to that ludicrous assault on Brett Lee ten years ago? The ECB are expecting England's fans to unmake their memories for the betterment of the here-and-now. History, unfortunately, doesn't work like that.

It is, of course, possible that the furious masses railing on Twitter against the ECB's actions are not as representative of the national mood as they might like to think - last week's General Election set a precedent in that respect, a point that one or two members of the media have picked up on this week.

But if they are not representative, then why not? There is plenty to be furious about in English cricket at present, from the paucity of recent results, to the over-coaching of fast bowlers, to the decline in the recreational game, to the lack of transparency in the sport's global governance.

The ECB say they want to set out a five-year plan for the reinvigoration of the sport. But has anyone stopped to ask for whom is it making these plans? The general public have yet to be invited back into the fold. Or if they have, the message has been lost in the doublespeak.

-----

Strauss' Ishoos

Simon Barnes in Cricinfo

"Ishoos".

It was always going to come down to them. Because England cricket has become a subplot in the Kevin Pietersen Story and with Pietersen, there are always "ishoos". He has "ishoos", and as a result, everybody he touches has "ishoos" with him.

Andrew Strauss gave his first public performance as England's new director of cricket on Tuesday and revealed that Pietersen was not coming back to play for the England "in the short-term". Meaning not this summer. That's just to make it sound a bit less apocalyptic than his sacking last year.

So to clarify: Pietersen has been sacked as an England cricket player, and now he has been unsacked. "He's not barred from the side," Strauss said on Tuesday. It's just that he's not been selected. Which is quite a different matter. He could be reselected again at any time. That's disregarding the small point that he's not going to be.

And the reason for this? "Massive trust ishoos." Which is interesting enough. Though one point that Strauss didn't make was that he was not crazy enough to commence his stint in charge of England cricket by building his team round a 34-year-old. That would be a barmy notion even in an "ishoo"-free scenario.

We've all admired Pietersen's timing over the years. It's one of those natural instincts. If there is the remotest possibility of making trouble, or of finding trouble and making it worse, or of taking on a kerfuffle and turning it into a first-class row, then KP's yer man.

Strauss's job is England v New Zealand and then England v Australia, and he has made his decision about that. As yet, it's neither the right decision nor the wrong decision

So while all this was going on at Lord's, Pietersen was scoring loony amounts of runs for Surrey. He had been told to find a county and score runs if he wanted to return to the England team: you can't say that a triple-century, to which he was adding while Strauss's problem with trust issues was being coyly half-revealed to the public, doesn't add another pint of bat's blood to the witch's cauldron.

I suppose England did. After all, they picked him. Back then he was a South African cricketer with a reputation for mixing trouble and talent in more or less equal quantities. These days he's an ex-England player whose talent for trouble has outstripped his talent for talent.

It is a basic given of team management that any player, if sufficiently talented, can be accommodated in any team. If he makes the team better, it is the team's job to make it work. It's also the individual's job to fit in. So the point is that everybody has failed here. And now it seems that everybody has issues with that failure.

Poor Kevin. It's hard not to feel sorry for an egomaniac when people stop humouring him. Pietersen always wanted to be treated differently to everyone else: now he has been. First he was the only player in the history of England cricket ever to be sacked, and now he's the only England player ever to be unsacked and simultaneously unselected.

Perhaps Strauss's predecessor, Paul Downton - though the titles and the roles are subtly different - was wrong to make an issue of sacking Pietersen. Certainly it was a decision that made a sporting problem into a moral issue. And that put intolerable pressure on the captain, Alastair Cook.

Cook was forced to play the good boy, like Ralph in Lord of the Flies, while Pietersen revelled in his role as bad Jack. And while that makes a fine morality tale worthy of being studied by A level students across the cricketing world, it didn't help England win cricket matches. In fact, it's created a sorry mess.

Kevin Pietersen and Andrew Strauss in happier times © Getty Images



It's not in Strauss's power to undo that. He can't wind back the clock to the point when England fell apart in Australia, or to when the England players started giggling disloyally over the wounding fake-Twitter account that lampooned Pietersen, or to when Pietersen started sending derogatory texts about his own team to the South African cricketers.

No. By accepting the job Strauss has accepted that he has to deal with a few "ishoos". And though he dealt strongly and confidently with the England Test captaincy - Cook uber alles - and with the one-day captaincy - Eoin Morgan's your man - and with the question of the coach - Jason Gillespie is "one of the candidates ... I want to listen to their philosophy of cricket" - this was a day when the old scene-stealer stole the scene once again.

Pietersen finished with 355 not out for Surrey on Tuesday: a mischief-maker's delight. That stupendous score opens a whole new can of issues. Sometimes it seems that the whole world is united in trying to service Pietersen's personal myth: he was dropped half-a-dozen times on the way to that impressive total.

But Strauss's job is England v New Zealand and then England v Australia this summer, and he has made his decision about that. It's neither the right decision nor the wrong decision. It will be the right decision if England score lots of runs, especially Cook, and it will be wrong if they don't. It really is as simple - and as illogical - as that.

So there is Pietersen, playing the misunderstood innocent after producing what is possibly the nastiest and certainly the ghastliest book in the woeful history of ghosted sporting autobiographies, one in which score-settling was top of the agenda and love of cricket nowhere. If you choose to write a book like that you can expect people to have issues with it.

The real KP story is an enthralling tale about the nature of teams, the chemistry within them, when is a team not a team and at what point a nonpareil becomes an intolerable burden on resources. And that's all very well for us, but for Strauss, it's not about the moral agenda or the philosophy of sport.

For Strauss, it's a sporting "ishoo". He's made his decision: now he must pray that England have a decent summer and that Pietersen eases up a little on the triple-centuries. If those two things don't happen, there'll be more "ishoos" for us all to face in the autumn.

An ode to Gower

Rob Steen in Cricinfo

Exquisitely flawless, the former England captain was the Rembrandt of batting: all touch, timing and subtle depth; and never better than 30 years ago


David Gower: poise, fragility and ineffable beauty © Getty Images



"I found it strange that the 2005 team all found themselves with MBEs in the next Honours List. If I had been given an award every time England won the Ashes during my career, I would be in the House of Lords."

Tongue may have been caressing cheek with customary aplomb, but that isn't the sort of sound bite one associates with David Gower, being largely bereft of understatement and peppered with self-assertiveness. You can find it in Sex & Drugs & Rebel Tours, Dave Tossell's latest erudite, immaculately titled romp through the occasional ups and persistently numbing downs of Team England over the final quarter of the 20th century, a gruelling, gripping, excruciating slice of comical, angst-ridden soap opera - call it tailenders - that proved a handy weapon in the bitterly unscrupulous tabloid circulation wars.

David Ivon Gower doesn't do snide. Nor does he do haughty or sneery. Everything he did with a bat in his hands oozed natural elegance; honed through thousands of net hours at King's School Canterbury but still an extension of self. No world-class athlete this column has ever met has tried less to impress, or been so self-effacing, or rubbed so few up the wrong way. No sporting hero turned commentary-boxer has spent less time recounting past glories or waxing nostalgic. And no competitive artist has better embodied the spirit of that fabulous (if possibly mythical) Cary Grant one-liner: "Everyone wants to be Cary Grant - even I want to be Cary Grant."

Is there any more fitting coincidence than the fact that Gower rhymes not only with flower but power? On this topic more than any other, frankly, this column is resolutely and hopelessly myopic. Its adoration is so ardent that it agreed to be Gower's first biographer, even though a giggle-a-page autobiography, expertly ghosted by his soul brother Martin Johnson, had already sold by the juggernaut.

Two years later, less fortunately for subject than author, there was more to say. Hounded into premature retirement by those who vindicate Charlie Skinner's acidic adage in The Newsroom- "Hell hath no fury like the second-rate" - Gower deserved a more robust defence as well as a less restrained celebration. The most stinging volleys of righteous abuse were saved for Graham Gooch, the captain and friend whose own career Gower had once preserved with such compassion.

Just once during a meeting at his Hampshire home did the mood dip below exceedingly pleasant - when the interviewer, anxious to temper the idolatry with some journalistic dispassion, accused him of mental laziness. Cue a rambling but sound counter theory that made it easy to understand why he had gravitated towards a legal career, even if it did find him more or less pleading guilty as charged.

Few upper lips have been sturdier. He certainly appeared far more willing to forgive Gooch than his biographer was.


****


Imagine a gallery of cricketers as artists. David Warner as Jackson Pollock - the epitome of bold subversion, Mr Couldn't Give A Toss. Pietersen as Dali: a galling, irrepressible, un-ignorable minor genius. Tendulkar as Michelangelo, all smooth lines and sacred overtones. Warne as Picasso, all new tricks and piss-takes. Murali as Van Gogh, a sorcerer, earthy and soulful. For Gower, read Rembrandt, all touch, timing and subtle depth.

Gower cast spells like no other. Whenever he was on TV, so desperate was Tim Rice, the wordsmith behind Jesus Christ Superstar, to see his idol succeed, and so fearful that he might not, that he hid behind the settee. During his illustrious reign as editor of Wisden, Matthew Engel cited Gower's 72 in Perth in 1982 as the finest knock he'd ever seen, "an exquisite, flawless diamond". Knowing Matthew as this column does, it is as certain as it can be that this was the only time he has ever uttered or written the word "flawless" and not preceded it with "not" or "hardly".

Never, though, was Gower quite so exquisitely flawless as he was 30 summers ago. That the memories still glow can be attributed in good part to the fact that we sporty Poms were in such dire need of reasons to be cheerful. May 1985 had scored a horrifying hat-trick.

On the 11th, a blaze erupted in a wooden stand at Bradford City's Valley Parade, killing 56 spectators; many Yorkshiremen still blame the club's late owner for arson - a series of such "accidents" had befallen a number of his other business concerns - but the roots of the tragedy were embedded in the national game's contempt for its customers. At Wembley a week later, Manchester United's Kevin Moran become the first player to be sent off in an FA Cup final, for a so-called "professional foul", denying Everton a likely lead that would have decided the game in the regulation 90 minutes; Norman Whiteside's perversely wondrous extra-time strike ensured the sinner emerged a victor. Then, 11 days later, came the nadir of f***ball hooliganism, aka "the English disease": at a dilapidated stadium in Belgium, blatantly unfit for purpose, a horde of boozed-up Liverpool fans charged their Juventus counterparts, a wall collapsed and 39 died.



Gower, seen here with wife Thorunn, was at his mesmerising best against the Australians in 1985 © PA Photos

Summer brought balm. Not only did England reclaim the Ashes, they did so with style and vigour. Best of all, the man who sheepishly hoisted the replica urn between right thumb and forefinger on the Oval balcony harvested 732 runs - still the most by an England captain in a series against Australia, not to mention the most by any Pom in an Ashes debate at home. The second movie this column ever saw was Summer Magic, a Disneyfied yarn whose allure lay wholly in another blonde bombshell, Hayley Mills; here, more than two decades later, was the sequel. Vince Lombardi could go to hell: good guys really could come first.

Tanya Aldred was luckier than most: she broke her cricketing virginity that heady, often dizzying summer. "Delicate David - my father's hero became his children's hero too," she reflected in The New Ball Volume 4. "His batting was of a vintage so lipsmackingly tasty that even a Formula 1 driver would be loath to spray it around. Flick of the wrist - four. Eighty-nine of them in total. Stressed-out executives should be forced to watch videos of each one, every morning before work."

Awe sprang not so much due to those innately, inexpressibly handsome strokes as the serenity and stillness at their core. Here he was, captain of his country, facing the ancient enemy, and betraying not so much as a hint of a glimmer of anxiety (it helped, admittedly, that Allan Border's party was approximately the third-puniest ever to land in England). If Bradman was the white Headley, Gower was the white Sobers, in temperament and movement if not versatility. The miracle was that he was loved by so many who would normally be infuriated by one so resistant to emotion or visible effort. The vulnerability had much to do with it; the vulnerability that comes with performing on the highest wire of excellence, forever swaying between sublime and negligent.

As if poise, fragility, humility and ineffable beauty weren't enough, Gower offered something even more precious: dignity. "At least I've had a couple of years," he said shortly after the first of his two sackings as England captain, in the wake of India's maiden Lord's Test win in 1986. To his credit, marvelled Frank Keating in the Guardian, "he has not changed a jot since the selectors appointed him two years ago. He remains a laid-back charming goldielocks with a touch of genius at the crease, no histrionics or tantrums in the field, and an ambassadorial approach to the world." Having kept Ian Botham onside and succeeded where Mike Brearley failed by getting the best from Phil Edmonds, he'd have been just the chap to keep KP inside the tent.


The key to that constancy was not the diffidence or arrogance perceived by some but that acute sense of proportion. Sure, he loved the game, the cameraderie as much as the challenges, but winning was never everything. Who else could have had the brass balls to announce to the media, after a bad day against Border's vengeful side at Lord's in 1989, that he was off to the theatre? That he returned on the Monday to make a silkily defiant century, however fruitless, spoke of a will immeasurably stronger than commonly assumed. "It felt like the captain versus the press," he recalled. "In a sense it was quite good fun."

Ultimately his greatest asset was courage. The courage not to be cowed by Dennis Lillee, Malcolm Marshall, Wasim Akram or even Fleet Street's snarliest. The courage to attack in situations calling for grim defence and sobriety. The courage - notwithstanding those early efforts at de-elocution - to be posh during the heyday of inverted snobbery. The courage to be both man apart and man out of time. The courage, above all, to stay true to himself in the face of envy and ridicule.

That's why, 30 years on from his sunniest summer, at a time when there are hardly any reasons to be cheerful about so many of the elements that allegedly made Britain great, this column feels compelled to entreat its Queen: please, ma'am, do the decent thing when you finalise next month's Birthday Honours List and send your foremost sporting ambassador a text informing him he is going to be the first Englishman to be knighted exclusively for his on-field contributions since you tapped Len Hutton on the shoulders in 1956. Having approved yet another bloody Tory government, it's the very least you owe us.