In the new world of commentary experts, Blowers was one of us
Our Dear Old Thing was the last of the treasured amateurs in ever-more polished profession
When the great John Arlott retired from the Test Match Special commentary box in 1980, in his departure he redefined the term low key. “After a word from Trevor Bailey it will be Christopher Martinjenkins,” was the last we heard from the greatest of all cricket commentators before he slipped off to Alderney to spend more time with a well-rounded claret.
It was not quite like that when Henry Blofeld stepped away from the microphone last weekend. Lauded by a thousand newspaper articles, lovingly serenaded by broadcasting tributes, heralded by his colleagues, the Dear Old Thing was accorded a triumphal lap of honour of Lord’s. And what an ovation he received. As he waved and beamed, as his characteristic jumble of pastel shades caught the last of the summer sun, for a moment even the pigeons appeared to stop and applaud.
And rightly so. Blofeld was that rare thing: a broadcaster who transcended his medium. His warmth, his generosity, his sheer zest for life spilt out across the airwaves. For 45 years he kept us amused with his whimsy, his chuckling asides, his comments about passing double-decker buses, all delivered in an accent that suggested he had not so much a plum in his mouth as the entire product of the Vale of Evesham. He may have been playing a character, but his was company you wanted to keep. He had the unteachable knack of making you think he was addressing you and you alone.
As was pointed out by many Telegraph readers who responded to my colleague Jonathan Liew’s sharply argued piece in yesterday’s paper about Blofeld being a product of privilege, no matter how gilded his upbringing, no matter how many doors were held open for him, this was a skill that demanded our attention.
Had he had nothing to say after sauntering to the top table, we would have heard nothing from him again. The truth is, he would never have lodged himself for so long in our collective consciousness unless he delivered something we wanted to hear.
“Blofeld has brought happiness to many listeners who know nothing about cricket – listeners such as myself. Many thanks, Sir,” wrote G Cox. While Oli Norwell pointed out: “Yes, we all know he’s posh and painfully privileged, and not exactly a world-class commentator, but half the fun was enjoying him for who he was.” It was his sense of uniqueness being celebrated as he made his way round Lord’s. Folk like Blowers do not come round often.
But there was something else, too, in the warmth of his send-off. There was a nostalgia, a sense this was the passing of an era we will not see again, not in the modern world of sports broadcasting. Blofeld was last of the amateurs in an increasingly professionalised world. And, no matter his frequent inability to identify the fielder at mid-on, that is amateur in the proper sense of the term, not the pejorative.
He was a fine cricketer in his youth who, but for injury, might have gone on to higher things. But being merely good is no longer enough. These days only the very finest former players, international captains, record run-getters, peak fast bowlers need apply. The Sky commentary box is like a starting XI of the greatest players of all time. Understandably so: they know what they are talking about.
But occasionally you seek another perspective. Blofeld could not tell you what it was like to face an Aussie quick at 100mph, but he could do something different and very necessary: he could set the scene, tell us what was going on away from the pitch, paint word pictures. True, occasionally that did lead him a tad astray. One colleague took against the Dear Old Thing after he got diverted during a Test against Zimbabwe when, with England needing four off the last ball, his attention was seized by a passing African crow and he forgot to mention the score.
But, in the sense he had not played the game at the top level, Blowers was one of us, like us he was just a fan, our man in the commentary box. In a world of experts, that was a refreshingly unusual view. And now it is gone and never likely to be revived, it is a view we will sorely miss.