On a recent trip to the United Kingdom, MED met the Rev. Barry Morrison who conducted the funeral service for Godfrey Evans CBE on the 20th of September 1999. Rev Morrison forwarded to the Club the eulogy given by the late Lord Cowdrey in Canterbury Cathedral which I believe all current and aspiring wicket-keepers should read.
"Behind the stumps, Godfrey Evans was a genius, no doubt about that.
In a sense, he was something of a genius off the field, too, for being such enormous fun and for his eternal optimism. So, on no account, should there be any glum faces here today.
I know that he is watching over us, surrounded by a host of friends, all with glasses charged. Leslie Ames, Hopper Levett and Bryan Valentine to the • fore, Denis Compton and Bill Edrich, Wally Hammond and George Duckworth, Frankie Worrell and Ray Lindwall many other friends we would all know.
He loved the big occasion. He is loving every minute of this, a huge crowd and a test match venue .......... and he would be over the moon that so many of his friends had come long distances to be here today – and particularly touched that Neil Harvey and his wife, Barbara, should have flown in from Sydney to be with us.
When, as a 19 year old, Neil scored his first test hundred against England at Headingley, in 1948, in two and a half hours, Godfrey was the ‘keeper. Eleven years later Neil Harvey was still plundering England bowlers and Evans was still the ‘keeper – what a marvellous span. Neil Harvey saw Godfrey at this best, and Godfrey could never have stood behind a more dazzling, quick-footed batsman – one of the greatest of all Australian batsmen.
Godfrey went on four tours of Australia. First under Wally Hammond, second under Freddie Brown in 1 950 where Wisden records “Evans played in all five test matches and never missed a chance”.
Then Len Hutton’s Ashes winning tour, which was my first, and I was able to see atfirst hand, often from gully or short leg, the most irrepressible cricketer and truest sportsman that I was ever to play alongside.
Yet he was even better in England, whether it be handling the fast, looping, waspish leg breaks and googlies of Doug Wright, another genius, or keeping to Jim Laker and Tony Lock on rain affected pitches, not forgetting his mastery standing up to Alec Bedser.
Only last week, Doug Insole, with us here today, received a hand written letter from Don Bradman, a personal friend, lamenting the passing of two great men of Kent, saying :
"Douglas Wright, surely England’s finest attacking leg spinner – and as for Godfrey, probably the greatest wicket keeper of them all”.
Sir Donald is not given to extravagant praise. Surely, this is the ultimate tribute.
Why was he so good?
Godfrey had the eye of a hawk, exceptional agility, instinctive footwork, wonderful timing in his taking of a ball, and extraordinary speed of hand, each hand just as strong as the other.
He was the fittest and strongest of cricketers, with endless courage. He used to take some fearful knocks on the arms and shoulder when the ball bounced unpredictably, but he would never show pain. He would laugh it off, saying out of the corner of his mouth:
"Just nothing – nothing that a large glass or two and a pretty face won’t put right tonight”.
No day was too long or sun too hot. He saw it as part of his daily run to be at his keenest in the last half hour of the day, supporting his captain and urging everyone on.
It was his power of concentration that ensured his success.
As the bowler turned to start his run up, Godfrey would tap his gloves together, before bending – the signal for all other thoughts to be put out of his mind. Once the ball had been bowled and he was sure that it was dead, he would, however briefly, try to switch off again.
Application, relaxation, vitality, loyalty, humour and total integrity were all there in abundance. He made his presence felt by his flair and brilliance, no time for the endless and mindless chatter that spoils today’s fun.
Surprisingly, for one who so enjoyed living life to the full, calculated rest was one of his disciplines.
The daily ritual, coming off the field at lunchtime, the Twelfth man would be primed to have ready in his place in the dressing room, a sandwich and a mug of tea, with specific instructions to be on hand to take all his wet clothes as he peeled off for he would be soaked through.
As fast as he could he would towel himself down, redress in dry clothes, swallow his sandwich, swig his tea and in a flash he would be fast asleep, on the bench, under the bench, even on the shower room floor, for fifteen minutes he would be dead to the world. The Twelfth man would waken him with a few minutes to go -head in a basin of cold water, dry cap and inner gloves, he would be off down the pavilion steps to entertain his adoring public, looking the youngest and perkiest of the team.
"The one and only Godders”.
Like many here today, I enjoyed many hours being driven by him, not as you might expect, in a Porsche roaring around the countryside on two wheels but a comfortable, but very old second hand Bentley. On the road he was the original old ‘fogey’ never exceeding the speed limit however long the journey, pottering up the old A1 at 65 miles per hour, Godfrey at peace with his pipe, enjoying the countryside, long silences, the occasional sage comment we could have been with the Dean of Christchurch.
Next evening, fielding stint over, he was bound to sniff out a party which would need enlivening. He would be there, over robust maybe certainly too risque for most hosts. His friends would melt away, consoling themselves that the sun would come up again tomorrow, a new day, and Godfrey would be back to normal again.
On board ship, with Godfrey as Master of Ceremonies, the MCC team would carry away every prize on fancy dress night. He was always Carmen Miranda, beautifully made up, carrying a basket of fruit precariously balanced on his head. He would steal the show and would lead our inevitable victory parade in a never ending dance through every corner of the ship.
We must not forget that into the bargain could be a dangerous hard hitting batsman, the maker of two test hundreds in contrasting styles.
One against India where he scored 98 before lunch. The other against West Indies on a bare, awkward pitch at Old Trafford with the help of a typical fighting innings of 80 from Trevor Bailey.
That match at Old Trafford was the only test England won against John Goddard’s all conquering West Indians and “those two little pals of mine, Ramadhin and Valentine”.
Godfrey relished a challenge, and when called upon by Waiter Hammond to hold up an end in support of Denis Compton to save the fourth test at Adelaide in 1 947, Godfrey hung on for 95 minutes without scoring.
When, in 1952, Kent looked to him for more runs, Tom Crawford, late at night, set the challenge.
"£250 on the table for you, Godfrey, if you score 1500 runs next season”.
"If Kent bat me number three, skipper, I’ll walk it."
Everything went to plan, and he needed 38 on the last day of the season, against Essex at Clacton, and won his prize.
He was the most generous of men. When he moved into the jewellery business, and knew quite a lot about it, he surprised everyone, including himself, I suspect, by winning a £1000 on a live television quiz with tough questions on jewellery. He needed the money – he always needed the money – but straightaway he announced that the first £500 would go to his cricketing friend, The Reverend David Sheppard, who needed it to build a play area for his youngsters in Islington.
There was a tinge of sadness about his early days. Living at Cliftonville and seeing very little of his father, who travelled the world, Godfrey lost his mother at the age of three. She died after being run over by a coal cart.
His brother, Jack, with us here today, was six years older and they were brought up marvellously by their sixteen year old sister, Violet and supported most generously by other members of a large family.
Being deprived of Mum, and, to a degree, Dad, at such an early age was to formulate a strong independent streak.
John Pocock, who read the first lesson today, came to know him well in his early cricketing years, both of them coming to Canterbury on the same day in 1937 for a Kent trial.
John remembers this strong, stocky figure and the impact that he made when putting on the gloves for the first time, the strength of his arms and legs, developed through ‘riding out’ early mornings for a trainer in Tickham. He could well have made a top class jump jockey, and who knows, a seriously good boxer as well. Possessing an official licence, he won any number of fights at £2 a time on Herne Bay pier.
Kent had to put a stop to it all, for fear of serious injury, and Godfrey was happy to put cricket first.
Like Leslie Ames, Godfrey was taken on the ground staff as a batsman fielder. it was the generosity of dear Hopper Levett in 1 939 who would occasionally allow Godfrey a session of wicket keeping.
As with so many the war came at just the wrong moment, but Sergeant Evans made his mark in a number of war time matches at Lord’s, which provided the launch pad for his own test career.
So, today, we salute him as a great cricketer, a simple soul, with a heart of gold.
He loved the game, always courteous to opponents, trusted by umpires.
"We will be there at the finish”. He used to use as his rallying cry – however bleak the outlook. What a personality he was !
He made people smile all around the cricket world – first as a player and later on with his white, bewhiskered, cheery face, the caring courier of touring parties, and he would rarely criticise the modern game.
He loved Kent and always wore his Hopper Tie on Monday’s.
He felt a great debt to Kent College – they tried so hard to educate him.
He was grateful to MCC for his overseas tours.
He was a devoted Lord’s Taverner, for he was in on their start in 1950 and until the end, he would travel the length and breadth of the UK to help.
In recent years he enjoyed a happy relationship as part of the Cricketers Club of London, and they adored him.
Godfrey may have left us, but all of us here today, and countless others warm to his memory.
He was a rare, sparkling bird – dear Godfrey you might say, quite unique."