Alf Harrison: my tribute

"For when the One Great Scorer comes

To mark against your name,

He writes – not that you won or lost –

But how you played the Game."

Shit, We'd cry. Alf would say, "Shut up!" Followed by, "Don't laugh so much!" But the laughter would ring out across the ground.  If you were batting or umpiring you'd wish you were on the sidelines enjoying Alf's company. On a Sunday there was no better place to be. Alf loved it, the camaraderie and the buzz of entertaining.

When I joined Anson in 1999, Alf was an old man but then again Monky would say that when he joined in 1978 AH ("Do you know what they call me AH, Arse Hole.") was an old man then. My grandad had not long died and I saw in Alf a link to the older generation which had been taken away from me. But above everything else I saw him as a true friend.

He was a complicated character, then again aren't we all. Hardly ate, (if you put a potato in the cupboard, it grows), mostly drank (we'll drink that pub dry), lover of animals (my cat it says Alf, Alf), painter, poet and good cricketer. It was always funnier to ridicule his cricketing ability. However, no bad cricketer has hit a hundred, not to mention three consecutive hundreds on the co-op ground. Batting was Alf's first cricketing love. 

At 56 an age most cricketers had packed up the game he was scoring his highest ever Anson score of 89 in a then record second wicket partnership of 211. He had won the game (ish) and then went on the field and had a tear. Over 6,000 runs and 255 wickets, some bought, most caught while he would shout, "get under it get right under it." He was the only 'spinner' who I've ever seen shine a cricket ball. He'd say he didn't know where cow-corner was, but was only too aware of the need for outfields as he'd coach, "don't worry about the four, just go for the catch." His 522 matches may never be beaten.

I was lucky enough to be at a ceremony at London Guildhall where Alf was awarded the freedom of the City of London. It was a joy to be with him that day and a fitting accolade to the window dresser who'd bore his customers with tales of Anson.

I was shocked when he told me in August that he had retired months earlier. Alf should have told us as we would have sent him off to retirement in style. Unlike many retirements, as like the end of his cricket career, it was no celebration. It was sadly the beginning of the end. Of a life lived to the full, full of laughter, full of drink and full of memorable stories which will be handed down to Anson players who never had the privilege of knowing him. 

He would say that he didn't want to wake up dead. So maybe it's fitting that he went in his sleep. We joked with him about what would happen at his funeral, for some reason he thought we'd throw cricket balls at his coffin. What we will do is celebrate his life, with a pint of London Pride and recount his stories. My amazing wife to be found some videos of Alf recounting his tales, arguably this is his best. 

This weekend some of us will be at Butlins. Ring my bell, 'pink' paradise and skiing better than the instructor will be in evidence. 

My last text with Alf I told him that I had captained Anson to victory. I'm immensely proud to be of captain of Alf's club and will try my best to retain the Harrison Hancock trophy. I'll finish up with another of Alf's favourite quotes. When I was in his company I felt like his brother. 

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers."