Published: Jul 27, 2016, 12:07 PM (IST)
Edited: Jul 27, 2017, 07:24 PM (IST)
John Brian Iverson, born July 27, 1915, bamboozled batsmen with his unusual grip. He held the ball between the thumb and middle-finger of his right-hand, turning the ball either way without any visible change of action, often at remarkable angles. Iverson played only one series, the 1950-51 Ashes at home, but his remarkable success, combined with the mystery one associates with him, made him a cult hero among lovers of cricket. His numbers at both Test and First-Class level were outstanding, but his career lasted a mere 34 First-Class matches, 5 of which were Tests. Abhishek Mukherjee lists 15 things about the Victorian sorcerer.
1. Cult hero
Not many have attained cult status among cricket-lovers across generations with only 21 Test wickets, but Jack Iverson was no ordinary bowler. One wonders whether it was only about the mystery around the man they called ‘The Freak’ or ‘Wrong-Grip Jake’.
True, he had that unusual grip where he held the ball between his thumb and middle-finger, which enabled him to turn the ball in either direction with only his thumb. Add to that his 6’2” frame, immense strength (“you wondered what had got hold of you,” wrote Paul Gibb after shaking hands with him), and impeccable accuracy, and you will seldom come across a bowler as lethal. To make things worse for the batsman, he bowled at almost medium-pace, often generated awkward bounce.
He himself explained the unusual technique: “If my thumb was pointed to the left or offside as I let the ball go, the result would be leg-break. If it pointed to the right or leg-side the result would be a wrong ’un. If it pointed directly at the batsmen, it would be a top-spinner.”
It was so freakish a delivery that it posed problems even to the columnist. Gideon Haigh wrote: “What Jack had conceived was a delivery so unusual that it was not even clear what to call it.”
But Iverson was not merely another mystery spinner. There had been many of them before and after him, from Bernard Bosanquet to Sunil Narine, but few have enjoyed Iverson’s cult status.
Did it have to do with his meteoric rise and fall? The Jack Iverson story, after all, was about a solitary series. His Test career lasted less than three months, but was enough to capture the imagination of the cricket fraternity.
These 5 Tests fetched him 21 wickets at an astonishing 15.23. His First-Class cricket lasted a mere 34 matches across 4 seasons. His 157 wickets (4.6 wickets per match) came at 19.22. The outstanding numbers probably contributed as much to the mystique around him as the near-inexplicable short career.
Of course, he won accolades from all over. Richie Benaud, no less, had highest words of praise in My Spin on Cricket: “There have been plenty of spin bowlers around for more than a hundred years but the four, for me, who have broken the mould and made batsmen think seriously about what was coming down the pitch at them, have been Bernard Bosanquet, Jack Iverson, John Gleeson and Shane Warne.”
Jarrod Kimber wrote: “Flicking the ball from Hercules-like fingers like a kid playing with marbles, he predated the carrom ball, and got the ball to spin in both directions while doing so. He only played five Tests, yet Gideon Haigh wrote a whole book about him, and the famous photo of Iverson’s grip is as good as any image from any horror film. Iverson didn’t last long, but like the Velvet Underground, he encouraged others.”
Indeed, Bob Appleyard (to a lesser extent) and John Gleeson both emulated Iverson’s grip, but none of them is associated with it the way Iverson is. In fact, when he first faced Gleeson, Barry Rothwell told his New South Wales (NSW) teammate Benaud: “This bloke’s bowling Iversons.”
There have been subsequent mystery spinners (even recent ones, like Ajantha Mendis and Narine), but seldom has a one-series wonder been as intriguing a subject as Iverson.
2. The reluctant fielder and the perpetual Jack
It is not known whether the cricket fraternity had scoffed at the No. 11 batting position being labelled Jack after Jack Hobbs immortalised the name. There were no such thoughts about Iverson, for whom even Jack was probably a few slots higher than where he should have batted.
Iverson batted 7 times in Test cricket. He aggregated 3, and never reached 2. His average read an astounding 0.75. At First-Class level, it was significantly more (14.57), but it was buoyed by the fact that he remained unbeaten in 27 of his 46 innings.
In fact, he seldom took guard. Worse, when he batted with an accomplished batsman, he did not bother to stay off-strike despite his complete ineptitude.
But he loved his bat to the core. Journalist NS Ramaswami, who saw Iverson on that Indian tour, wrote in Winter of Content: “This bat was not the least part of the pageant that was Iverson the batsman. It looked hoary with age, discoloured, perhaps breaking at the edges … An unsentimental man would perhaps have cheerfully abandoned it to the fireplace. But not the least pleasing of the Australian’s qualities was his devotion to it.”
It was difficult for Iverson to be a worse fielder than batsman, but he managed to achieve that. Not only was he terrible on the field, he was so unwilling to pick up the ball that he often kicked it towards the closest fielder. Only when there was no one nearby did he chase the ball, that too at a pace that “could not unfairly be compared to a Republic Day procession” (Ramaswami).
All this, of course, added to his “box-office value” (Frith), and contributed to his cult status: how can you better a package of a mystery spinner, a walking wicket, and a kicking fielder?
3. The other Ludwig
Haigh, in his much-acclaimed biography on Iverson, has done some remarkable work (even by his standards) on the genealogy of our hero.
The original family surname was Iversen, as Haigh mentions. Ludwig Iversen was born in 1825 in Apenrade, Denmark, in the same year when all nine of his most famous namesake’s symphonies were performed in a cycle for the first time, under Johann Philipp Christian Schulz.
Fittingly, Ludwig Iversen took to music. The youngest of six children, he studied violin at Vienna Conservatoire, the same city where Beethoven breathed his last.
Exactly why Iversen left Denmark for Victoria is not known, but gold was probably the most logical reason. He settled down in Heathcote, and married the exotically named Mary Ann Elizabeth Lipson Carpenter de Pomeroy, a Southampton housemaid on July 20, 1864.
They settled down in South Australia, and Thomas Louis, the eldest son, was born next year. Ludwig later anglicised his name to Louis Iverson. He and Mary Ann had six children in all, two of whom died in their childhood. All six of them, however, had their surnames spelled Iverson.
Henry William Iverson, born January 15, 1885, went on to become a real-estate agent on a property of Essington Lewis in Melbourne. He married one Edith Joyce White. Jack Iverson was their second son.
4. The jackaroo who went to War
Young Jack took to an unusual sport for a youngster: golf, and was rather good at it. He won the Maldon Club Championship at a mere 21. At the same time he became a jackaroo.
He joined his father’s firm but joined the Australian Imperial Force before turning 25, where he served in The Gulf and New Guinea. By the time he was discharged, he was already Lance Sergeant in the 2nd/4th Anti-Aircraft Regiment.
A year before his discharge, however, he took leave and married a typist called Dorothy Jean de Tracy, on July 1, 1944.
5. The second innings
The exact date is not clear, but the venue was Port Moresby (current capital of Papua New Guinea). We can narrow it down to Iverson’s tenure as a Sergeant in New Guinea, which makes the date some time in 1943 or 1944.
While experimenting with a ping-pong ball in his enormous hands, Iverson found out that he could impart significant spin on it using his long, bony thumb and huge middle-finger. He tried the same experiment on tennis balls, and it worked.
In his younger (pre-War) days Iverson was a fast bowler in 2nd-XI cricket. In fact, he had seldom taken cricket seriously as a sport, but now things were different. He practised with Jean, “managed to fit into his old cricket clothing” (David Frith), and embarked on a new journey.
Frith also mentions him coming across a group of blind cricketers in action in a park when he and Jean were out for a stroll. Inspired, he decided to give it a go.
6. The bony thumb of Brighton
He started playing serious cricket at 31, for Brighton in the VCA Premiership 1946-47. He later switched to Melbourne. These were mostly matches played on Saturdays with six-day gaps till the matches got over.
In 1948-49, Iverson topped the charts with 64 wickets at 12.06. He made his First-Class debut the season after, and was an instant success. He topped the Sheffield Shield table with 46 wickets from 7 matches at 16.60. He took 5 five-wicket hauls, 4 of which were six-fors.
He wreaked havoc in the New Zealand tour that followed. While his First-Class numbers (25 wickets at 12.88) make remarkable reading, his Second-Class numbers (52 wickets at 5.54) were almost absurd.
There was no doubt that he would play The Ashes that Australian summer.
7. The Hassett acts
Iverson’s success was obviously great news for Lindsay Hassett, his captain for Victoria and Australia. Not only did Hassett stop the Englishmen from forming an idea about his secret weapon before they arrive, he also did his best to prevent the NSW men — especially Arthur Morris and Keith Miller — from deciphering Iverson.
Thus, though Iverson bowled in the Australian nets, Hassett prevented him from bowling to NSW batsmen. Hassett went to the extent of placing Miller, the usual slip fielder, at mid-on: what if Miller read Iverson from first slip?
8. ‘Mental disintegration’?
The concept of ‘mental disintegration’ has been almost overused in the new millennium by the Australians. Whether it had anything to do with mental disintegration is not clear, but when England went to Australia for the 1950-51 Ashes, news on the uncapped Iverson followed them throughout the tour.
In Sporting Life, Dick Whitington predicted that Iverson would be “Australia’s trump bowler against England.” Doug Ring wrote on the same lines, hailing Iverson as “a bowler of near-genius.” And Stephen Fagan went to the extent of comparing Iverson’s skills with the Indian rope trick.
9. Snubbing Hutton
Obviously, the hype left Len Hutton, the greatest name on tour, confused and circumspect. When he sought advice from Percy Beames of Age, the response was not very encouraging: “I’ve never batted against him, Len, so I can’t help you much. All I can tell you is that he’s amazing. You can’t pick him, he turns it a long way, and he’s incredibly accurate.”
Now, when both teams met at Australian Prime Minister Robert Menzies’ reception, Hutton approached Iverson with near-absurd anticipation: “I don’t suppose that you’d like to show me how you hold the ball.” Iverson responded with merely a shy smile. It is a wonder he did not laugh out loud.
10. The Ashes
Nobody expected England to regain The Ashes, and they duly lost the first four Tests before winning the dead-rubber fifth Test.
The first Test on the wet wicket at The Gabba is famous for its bizarre scoreline: Australia 228 and 32 for 7 declared, England 68 for 7 declared and 122. Iverson got to bowl in only the fourth innings, claiming 4 for 43.
Iverson came to his elements in the second Test at MCG, where England lost by a mere 28 runs despite leading in the first innings. He had 4 for 37 and 2 for 36.
At SCG Australia won by an innings, Iverson taking nought for 25 and 6 for 27. At MCG they won by 274 runs; Iverson’s figures read 3 for 68 (he did not bowl a second time). He got 2 more wickets in the 5th Test at SCG.
In all he took 21 wickets, though he did not bowl in 2 of the 10 possible innings; add to that his phenomenal accuracy, which meant he went for a mere 1.73 an over.
One must remember that the Australian attack consisted of Ray Lindwall, Miller, Bill Johnston, and Ian Johnson: had Iverson had more ordinary colleagues, he would almost certainly have finished with a greater share of the wickets.
When Iverson did not make it to the 1953 Ashes (when England regained the urn), many felt that he could have made a difference. Miller wrote that Iverson “would have murdered England in 1953.” “We would have ‘walked’ the series had he been there,” added Benaud. And Hassett, who conceded The Ashes in his last series, lamented: “It he’d come all the matches would’ve been over in two days.”
11. An abrupt end
In 1950-51 Iverson was hailed as the greatest discovery in contemporary cricket. And yet, after that season, Iverson played a mere 3 First-Class matches on Australian soil.
It had started that season. While he was routing England, the 1950-51 Sheffield Shield was not as productive. From 2 consecutive matches, against Queensland and NSW, Iverson got a mere 6 wickets from 65 eight-ball overs (a wicket every 87 balls).
It had started with Hutton and Reg Simpson, who began to read him by the time the tour approached an end. But it was really the NSW match that dented his confidence.
Hassett’s strategy of keeping Iverson away from them in the nets had not gone down well with Miller and Morris. They decided to break his confidence: taking guard outside leg-stump, the two immensely talented men flayed him all over SCG.
Iverson got Miller, but not before he had smashed 86. Morris scored 114. “I’ve lost it; they’re playing me easily”, a dejected Iverson told Johnson.
12. Why?
Why did Iverson fade away? His confidence was dented for sure. Proper guidance might have would have done him good. Haigh wrote that he could not distinguish between ‘failing’ and ‘being a failure’.
Miller, despite his accolades, went on record, stating that Iverson “didn’t have a brain in his head.” Johnson was more sympathetic, but he was only being diplomatic: “Had he qualified this generalisation by specifying a cricket brain, I would agree.”
Not only had he started late, Iverson had not got used to the concept of batsmen playing him easily. He had never tasted failure, and once he did, he had no idea of how to overcome that particular hurdle.
13. The Indian adventure
Iverson went on an Indian tour with the Commonwealth XI in 1954-55 as perhaps the most ideal replacement for Sonny Ramadhin. From 6 matches, all of which had First-Class status, he picked up 27 wickets at a remarkable 27.48. This included 4 for 78 and 6 for 47 in an unofficial ‘Test’ against all-India side in his first match on Indian soil.
In this match, he got Ghulam Ahmed with an underarm ball. Sam Loxton recalled: “It floats down and the guy’s mesmerised. He pushes forward, straight into my hands, and I caught it and put in my pocket.”
Unfortunately, the Indians figured him out as well. In the last match, India Prime Minister’s XI, with only 9 men fit to bat, were set 369. Iverson was hit all over Eden Gardens (a last-minute addition for relief funds) for figures of 24-1-119-1 in his last First-Class innings.
14. The compulsive shopper
The Indian tour was memorable for Iverson in more ways than one, for he returned home with “vases, clothes, an evening purse embroidered with silver for Jean, and no fewer than 200 clay figures of local notables” (Haigh).
He also got clothes made. It was quite a task for Indian tailors, who had little experience of stitching anything to fit a man of 6’2”. Gibb wrote: “The trousers finished literally halfway up his calves and the shirt was made for a man half his size. He also had a cricket cap made, quite the funniest one I have ever seen. It was very voluminous, with a big peak and elastic at the back to help hold it in position.”
15. An even more abrupt end
Iverson continued to take wickets for Melbourne, and turned up for Brighton even at 47. He also became a commentator for ABC, and fathered two daughters, Sherry and Beverley. He returned to the real-estate business. Life was good, or at least it seemed so.
He suffered from a stroke in his fifties. He recovered, but went into a shell thereafter (Haigh described this phase as “withdrawn, reserved and remote”). Electro-vascular therapy was administered, and he seemed to improve after a holiday in Queensland.
Unfortunately, he was then hit by the twin blows of both parents passing away inside a span of three years. Atherosclerosis took over, which led to depression.
An incident, probably the trigger to the tragedy, took place in October 1973. To quote Frith, “he was not to be paid commission which he considered was due to him on a sale … was most upset at what he deemed unethical behaviour in a real-estate matter.”
On the morning of October 16, Jack Iverson, unable to drown his frustration in alcohol, went to the garden shed and shot himself with a Remington .22; Jean was vacuuming the house.
(Abhishek Mukherjee is the Chief Editor of CricketCountry and CricLife. He tweets at @ovshake42.)
