Mamboblue72
OzCardTrader
G'day Cricketers,
Thought i would start a thread about our favorite Bats! I wrote this for my Club Newsletter in Portsmouth UK 2006, where i was the only Aussie and Club Captain. Love to hear similar stories!
Keep posting
Dan
The Cricket Bat
As a not so spotty, yet cricket obsessed teenager, walking into the home of cricket shops in Melbourne; Bat and Ball on Dudley Street, was akin to a kid in a candy shop (thanks Ron!). I was disappointed as I had just been dropped from the school 1st XI for the last two games of the season, this was a huge setback to my lofty ambitions. However, attending training at Prahran District Cricket Club with the likes of Dav Whatmore, Simon O’Donnell and Julian Weiner gave me the confidence that comes with seeing your hero’s up close.
As soon as I walked into the shop I was pounced upon by a young Prahran first team aspirant, Shaun Daish. He quickly saw a sale opportunity and I was happy to oblige, as I was there to buy a new bat anyway. He pointed out a number of blades from the traditional bat makers before finally settling on one with a distinctive green sticker of Millichamp and Hall, a name I hadn’t seen or heard of before. As a person that has always tried to shake off mediocrity, though often failing; I embraced the chance to use a bat without a ‘legend’ to endorse it or for my teammates to wonder when I was out early, that the bat’s magic hadn’t rubbed off on me.
‘Feel this’ as he encouraged me to hit the new willow with a wooden mallet. ‘Go on give it a whack! Good Huh?’ My initial attempt would not have cracked an eggshell; $150 was a lot for a 17 year old in 1989. After some stronger encouragement I imparted some more force on to the middle of the blade, and was genuinely surprised at the speed at which the mallet returned in my direction. The sale clincher came, ‘Do you know Steve Waugh uses these bats with different stickers?’ I didn’t know better and as Mr Waugh had just hit the ‘Poms’ for 506 runs at an average of 126.5. Sold! Now how the hell was I going to justify this to Dad? Lucky he had just taken a new job in Brisbane, so I might not have to just yet. The perfect crime was complete.
I’m sure my mother knew I had a new bat, but I was never home long enough for her to ask me about it. After months of the knocking in process and much to the relief of my mother and brother, I was ready to embark on my first senior season. As the months fell from the calendar, so did my batting position. Opening bat and wicket keeper for the first match of the season, down to number 9 and a gritty and ultimately fruitless semi-final dig that saw me dropped for the Grand Final. Disappointment again, just 12 months on. I scored as many runs that season as compliments I received as to the quality of my bat. We won the 4th Division grand final of 1990 and I took the field once as 12th man, long enough to see my replacement, the third team keeper, take an amazing, match winning catch. My bat never left my bag as the champagne erupted all over the change room. Some consolation came when I was told I had the record for the most catches in a season, I never checked if I did. After a disappointing 1991 season I decided, rather tamely, that I wasn’t going to make it as a professional cricketer. No shame in that decision as it is a difficult life to lead. So the bat went into the cupboard and I chose an alternate path and joined the Army.
Fast forward three years, and having survived Recruit Training, Infantry Corps Training and the Jungle Warfare Centre, I was posted to and settled in the Twin Cities of Albury Wodonga. I had my cricket gear delivered by bus. The Bus Australia depot was not what I expected, even at 5 in the morning, being a garden shed behind a Trucker’s Diner. The bat was out of the bag again and thrust straight into a fiercely competitive match, Army versus Navy! A match of this importance brings the touring team together like no other event; the camaraderie on the bus as we headed to the game was as intense as any tour to the West Indies or the subcontinent.
It has been said that the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long, as it was with this bat. My hundred that day, my first, was chanceless and enabled us to post a great score that the Navy boys fell well short of. The hundred was scored just after my 23rd birthday and it went a long way to exorcising a few demons of my past career, I had a story to tell to my school friends and finally had a ‘stick man’ to draw on my thigh pad later. Then tragedy! Soon after I reached the magical three figures, the handle separated from the blade and tried to follow the ball to the midwicket boundary. Having the bat repaired was easy, but it would never be the same again. It gave its’ life for my day in the sun. I never used it again; it went missing in one of my many moves around Australia as a young soldier. I hope that it came into the hands of another young cricketer who was able achieve a similar milestone.
11 years later I finally got to the Millichamp and Hall workshop in Taunton, Somerset. I think the guise of M&H has undergone many changes as had I in the preceding time: changes at the helm of the company, staff, ownership and product packaging. I was now playing for a struggling team in Portsmouth, had travelled round the world, and was somewhat settled in Britain. What had not changed in that time was the final clean skin product, or the care and attention to detail in each finished article, and my love of the game and these bats. I organised, via the internet, to have a bat made in front of me by a master craftsman. I was now paying over 4 times the amount I paid in 1994, but it was well worth it. I arrived at the Somerset Cricket Ground and immediately missed a small sign to the workshop, then a ‘park anywhere mate’ came via the intercom. An open door to the workshop gave me a glimpse into the bat maker’s world. I met Nick in the showroom; the corporate show piece hides the industry in the next room. Encased in perspex on the wall was a replica of my first real bat! And the newest batch of dreams was aligned in racks with their new, expensive, graphically designed stickers on show.
The corporatisation of the company had seen some difficult times, culminating with the originators not being able to produce the product that bears their name. With change came the injection of new talent and a young man was chosen to become a bat making apprentice. Ten years later Rob Chambers still believes he was chosen because of his apathy for the game and its stars. I still questioned whether you could not be inspired by the likes of Tendulkar or Waugh but Rob concentrates on the quality of his product and his love of wood and finishing it, rather than the people who use it.
The second point to raise your the eyebrows at in disbelief is that Rob has no qualifications. In a trade that includes maybe 20 people in England, it is difficult to be recognised with a NVQ or other such trade qualification. As a tradesman myself I can recognise the technical achievement that goes into the finished product, and see the process as, what amounts to be, an artist at work.
The opportunity to select your own bat was offered to anyone in the Wesley College First XI in 1988 if they scored a century. It may seem unfair to the bowlers, but it is a batsman’s game. I only managed a singular 65 for the season however two team mates did score tons. I desperately wanted to accompany them to the factory, but the Kashmir willow, machine cut and pressed bats they chose didn’t impress me at all. They didn’t even see the factory floor and had to make their choice, as most do, from a line up in a show room.
Walking into the workshop in Taunton was as if walking into an old sepia photograph. The smell of woodchips and the thick layer of willow dust were as expected. Bats in various stages of production were stacked in drums and large cages held the raw clefts and Singapore cane handles. Rob had selected a cleft and attached a handle and much to my amusement had written my name on the face of the blade. Rob had chosen one of the finest blades I have ever seen and I hoped he saw it in my eyes. Many factors influenced his choice of cleft; the number of vertical grains across the face is an indication of the age of the willow, with more the better up to a point. Blemishes in the wood are said to increase its strength and a distinct difference in colour, all add to the story that can be told of a simple piece of wood.
The first part of the artistic process begins with the removal of the excess wood from the toe of the bat. The back of the bat is shaped with a large two handled draw knife and a plane. At no stage was I excluded from the process, at regular intervals I was asked for my input and to have a test swing and to feel the pick up of the bat.
The precious wood for this bat, genuine English Willow, was grown in East Anglia, North East of London. It is far more superior than Kashmir Willow used in the mass produced clefts coming out of the sub continent. Australian willow is yet to be proven and the industry is still in its infancy in my home country. The price of bats has steadily increased recently as a shortage of top grade willow has become evident. Larger bat companies are buying en mass and are not concerned with the quality of the product, therefore creating a shortage of the premium quality clefts that Rob requires.
Throughout the process Rob weighed the bat with an archaic set of scales using weights and measures to monitor his progress. A width gage was frequently used when finishing the edges. The dimensions of cricket bats have been put in the spot light recently with one manufacturer having to withdrawn a product from the market as it was said to give a batsman an unfair advantage. Rumours have always filtered back to Australia that some sub continental bats were a little wider than they should. I also noticed this went I was in Sri Lanka a few years ago.
The Millichamp and Hall workshop produces between 5 and 10 bats a day with many being packaged and sent to foreign shores. The workshop operates through the English winter to keep up with the demand of the summer sales. Bats featuring the distinctive weight saving plugs on the back take longer to finish. The three craftsmen also show the same care and attention to the bats that have come in for repair or their 1000 run service. It is amazing to me that Rob does not work to any template and uses his eye to adjust each phase of the bats preparation. His simple design can be seen in all the bats in the workshop and the old tools he uses look like heirlooms passed through generations of bat makers and craftsmen.
As my bat was nearing completion, I asked about the future of the quality, handmade, bat maker. Rob assured me that the future is bright and there are moves afoot to export to Australia once again. India will remain the domain of the mass produced Kashmir willow bat, however Rob identified the United States as the fastest growing market for cricket bats, due to its close proximity to the West Indies and the new 20/20 league that started last year, and in 2003 I saw a match in Washington not far from the Lincoln Memorial. I wonder if we will see the sports superpowers of Nike and Adidas churning out equipment of questionable quality with large corporate logos for all to see.
Planing, sanding, buffing the blade and then binding the handle completed my bat. The last task was to put on the stickers; I opted for the same ones as my bat of years before. These were much easier for Nick to apply than the new aforementioned ones, but that was beside the point, nostalgia made me choose them.
A few test swings, then to test the pick up and the bat was put away in a felt cover, with me taking home a small bottle of linseed oil to massage into its’ curves. I had to think of Robert Redford in the Natural or Homer Simpson who also owned a ‘Wonder Bat’. We left Rob, Nick and Rob’s Dad Steve (a retired Nuclear Scientist) to complete their quota of bats for the day and headed into the Somerset Cricket Ground to watch an Aussie, Chris Rodgers, flay the Somerset attack for a double century. A weekend in Somerset with my indulgent girlfriend who took photos for me at the workshop, drinking real ale, eating fantastic pub fare and taking in the breathtaking scenery helped me forget a disappointing season in the Hampshire Cricket League
Thought i would start a thread about our favorite Bats! I wrote this for my Club Newsletter in Portsmouth UK 2006, where i was the only Aussie and Club Captain. Love to hear similar stories!
Keep posting
Dan
The Cricket Bat
As a not so spotty, yet cricket obsessed teenager, walking into the home of cricket shops in Melbourne; Bat and Ball on Dudley Street, was akin to a kid in a candy shop (thanks Ron!). I was disappointed as I had just been dropped from the school 1st XI for the last two games of the season, this was a huge setback to my lofty ambitions. However, attending training at Prahran District Cricket Club with the likes of Dav Whatmore, Simon O’Donnell and Julian Weiner gave me the confidence that comes with seeing your hero’s up close.
As soon as I walked into the shop I was pounced upon by a young Prahran first team aspirant, Shaun Daish. He quickly saw a sale opportunity and I was happy to oblige, as I was there to buy a new bat anyway. He pointed out a number of blades from the traditional bat makers before finally settling on one with a distinctive green sticker of Millichamp and Hall, a name I hadn’t seen or heard of before. As a person that has always tried to shake off mediocrity, though often failing; I embraced the chance to use a bat without a ‘legend’ to endorse it or for my teammates to wonder when I was out early, that the bat’s magic hadn’t rubbed off on me.
‘Feel this’ as he encouraged me to hit the new willow with a wooden mallet. ‘Go on give it a whack! Good Huh?’ My initial attempt would not have cracked an eggshell; $150 was a lot for a 17 year old in 1989. After some stronger encouragement I imparted some more force on to the middle of the blade, and was genuinely surprised at the speed at which the mallet returned in my direction. The sale clincher came, ‘Do you know Steve Waugh uses these bats with different stickers?’ I didn’t know better and as Mr Waugh had just hit the ‘Poms’ for 506 runs at an average of 126.5. Sold! Now how the hell was I going to justify this to Dad? Lucky he had just taken a new job in Brisbane, so I might not have to just yet. The perfect crime was complete.
I’m sure my mother knew I had a new bat, but I was never home long enough for her to ask me about it. After months of the knocking in process and much to the relief of my mother and brother, I was ready to embark on my first senior season. As the months fell from the calendar, so did my batting position. Opening bat and wicket keeper for the first match of the season, down to number 9 and a gritty and ultimately fruitless semi-final dig that saw me dropped for the Grand Final. Disappointment again, just 12 months on. I scored as many runs that season as compliments I received as to the quality of my bat. We won the 4th Division grand final of 1990 and I took the field once as 12th man, long enough to see my replacement, the third team keeper, take an amazing, match winning catch. My bat never left my bag as the champagne erupted all over the change room. Some consolation came when I was told I had the record for the most catches in a season, I never checked if I did. After a disappointing 1991 season I decided, rather tamely, that I wasn’t going to make it as a professional cricketer. No shame in that decision as it is a difficult life to lead. So the bat went into the cupboard and I chose an alternate path and joined the Army.
Fast forward three years, and having survived Recruit Training, Infantry Corps Training and the Jungle Warfare Centre, I was posted to and settled in the Twin Cities of Albury Wodonga. I had my cricket gear delivered by bus. The Bus Australia depot was not what I expected, even at 5 in the morning, being a garden shed behind a Trucker’s Diner. The bat was out of the bag again and thrust straight into a fiercely competitive match, Army versus Navy! A match of this importance brings the touring team together like no other event; the camaraderie on the bus as we headed to the game was as intense as any tour to the West Indies or the subcontinent.
It has been said that the flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long, as it was with this bat. My hundred that day, my first, was chanceless and enabled us to post a great score that the Navy boys fell well short of. The hundred was scored just after my 23rd birthday and it went a long way to exorcising a few demons of my past career, I had a story to tell to my school friends and finally had a ‘stick man’ to draw on my thigh pad later. Then tragedy! Soon after I reached the magical three figures, the handle separated from the blade and tried to follow the ball to the midwicket boundary. Having the bat repaired was easy, but it would never be the same again. It gave its’ life for my day in the sun. I never used it again; it went missing in one of my many moves around Australia as a young soldier. I hope that it came into the hands of another young cricketer who was able achieve a similar milestone.
11 years later I finally got to the Millichamp and Hall workshop in Taunton, Somerset. I think the guise of M&H has undergone many changes as had I in the preceding time: changes at the helm of the company, staff, ownership and product packaging. I was now playing for a struggling team in Portsmouth, had travelled round the world, and was somewhat settled in Britain. What had not changed in that time was the final clean skin product, or the care and attention to detail in each finished article, and my love of the game and these bats. I organised, via the internet, to have a bat made in front of me by a master craftsman. I was now paying over 4 times the amount I paid in 1994, but it was well worth it. I arrived at the Somerset Cricket Ground and immediately missed a small sign to the workshop, then a ‘park anywhere mate’ came via the intercom. An open door to the workshop gave me a glimpse into the bat maker’s world. I met Nick in the showroom; the corporate show piece hides the industry in the next room. Encased in perspex on the wall was a replica of my first real bat! And the newest batch of dreams was aligned in racks with their new, expensive, graphically designed stickers on show.
The corporatisation of the company had seen some difficult times, culminating with the originators not being able to produce the product that bears their name. With change came the injection of new talent and a young man was chosen to become a bat making apprentice. Ten years later Rob Chambers still believes he was chosen because of his apathy for the game and its stars. I still questioned whether you could not be inspired by the likes of Tendulkar or Waugh but Rob concentrates on the quality of his product and his love of wood and finishing it, rather than the people who use it.
The second point to raise your the eyebrows at in disbelief is that Rob has no qualifications. In a trade that includes maybe 20 people in England, it is difficult to be recognised with a NVQ or other such trade qualification. As a tradesman myself I can recognise the technical achievement that goes into the finished product, and see the process as, what amounts to be, an artist at work.
The opportunity to select your own bat was offered to anyone in the Wesley College First XI in 1988 if they scored a century. It may seem unfair to the bowlers, but it is a batsman’s game. I only managed a singular 65 for the season however two team mates did score tons. I desperately wanted to accompany them to the factory, but the Kashmir willow, machine cut and pressed bats they chose didn’t impress me at all. They didn’t even see the factory floor and had to make their choice, as most do, from a line up in a show room.
Walking into the workshop in Taunton was as if walking into an old sepia photograph. The smell of woodchips and the thick layer of willow dust were as expected. Bats in various stages of production were stacked in drums and large cages held the raw clefts and Singapore cane handles. Rob had selected a cleft and attached a handle and much to my amusement had written my name on the face of the blade. Rob had chosen one of the finest blades I have ever seen and I hoped he saw it in my eyes. Many factors influenced his choice of cleft; the number of vertical grains across the face is an indication of the age of the willow, with more the better up to a point. Blemishes in the wood are said to increase its strength and a distinct difference in colour, all add to the story that can be told of a simple piece of wood.
The first part of the artistic process begins with the removal of the excess wood from the toe of the bat. The back of the bat is shaped with a large two handled draw knife and a plane. At no stage was I excluded from the process, at regular intervals I was asked for my input and to have a test swing and to feel the pick up of the bat.
The precious wood for this bat, genuine English Willow, was grown in East Anglia, North East of London. It is far more superior than Kashmir Willow used in the mass produced clefts coming out of the sub continent. Australian willow is yet to be proven and the industry is still in its infancy in my home country. The price of bats has steadily increased recently as a shortage of top grade willow has become evident. Larger bat companies are buying en mass and are not concerned with the quality of the product, therefore creating a shortage of the premium quality clefts that Rob requires.
Throughout the process Rob weighed the bat with an archaic set of scales using weights and measures to monitor his progress. A width gage was frequently used when finishing the edges. The dimensions of cricket bats have been put in the spot light recently with one manufacturer having to withdrawn a product from the market as it was said to give a batsman an unfair advantage. Rumours have always filtered back to Australia that some sub continental bats were a little wider than they should. I also noticed this went I was in Sri Lanka a few years ago.
The Millichamp and Hall workshop produces between 5 and 10 bats a day with many being packaged and sent to foreign shores. The workshop operates through the English winter to keep up with the demand of the summer sales. Bats featuring the distinctive weight saving plugs on the back take longer to finish. The three craftsmen also show the same care and attention to the bats that have come in for repair or their 1000 run service. It is amazing to me that Rob does not work to any template and uses his eye to adjust each phase of the bats preparation. His simple design can be seen in all the bats in the workshop and the old tools he uses look like heirlooms passed through generations of bat makers and craftsmen.
As my bat was nearing completion, I asked about the future of the quality, handmade, bat maker. Rob assured me that the future is bright and there are moves afoot to export to Australia once again. India will remain the domain of the mass produced Kashmir willow bat, however Rob identified the United States as the fastest growing market for cricket bats, due to its close proximity to the West Indies and the new 20/20 league that started last year, and in 2003 I saw a match in Washington not far from the Lincoln Memorial. I wonder if we will see the sports superpowers of Nike and Adidas churning out equipment of questionable quality with large corporate logos for all to see.
Planing, sanding, buffing the blade and then binding the handle completed my bat. The last task was to put on the stickers; I opted for the same ones as my bat of years before. These were much easier for Nick to apply than the new aforementioned ones, but that was beside the point, nostalgia made me choose them.
A few test swings, then to test the pick up and the bat was put away in a felt cover, with me taking home a small bottle of linseed oil to massage into its’ curves. I had to think of Robert Redford in the Natural or Homer Simpson who also owned a ‘Wonder Bat’. We left Rob, Nick and Rob’s Dad Steve (a retired Nuclear Scientist) to complete their quota of bats for the day and headed into the Somerset Cricket Ground to watch an Aussie, Chris Rodgers, flay the Somerset attack for a double century. A weekend in Somerset with my indulgent girlfriend who took photos for me at the workshop, drinking real ale, eating fantastic pub fare and taking in the breathtaking scenery helped me forget a disappointing season in the Hampshire Cricket League
Haha my first 100 bat was from the school kit, i think it was like some stock County bat from memory.
. Excellent story. 
