GENTLE - AND ACERBIC

Some cricketers are judged less by runs and wickets than by sheer presence and weight of personality. Robin Marlar, who died in September, aged 91, is an example – even though he was a considerable player in his own right.

Paul Weaver remembers Robin Marlar, a giant of Sussex cricket in many ways.

Marlar was round. And large. And loud. He was a bouncer of a man who could take your head off if you weren’t ready to duck out of harm’s way –quite appropriate, in view of the fact that he ran a successful headhunting business. For 70 years from 1952, when he established himself in the Sussex side, taking 108 wickets and winning his county cap, he was one of the dominant figures in the county’s cricket, not only on the field but in the committee room, in the press box and, not least, in 1997, when he was at his feisty peak, and played a key role in the meetings that revolutionised the club and paved the way for the most successful epoch in its history in the early years of the 20th century.

He was too substantial a figure for his influence to be confined to Sussex. He became president of the MCC in 2005 and did a great deal to promote cricket in Afghanistan and Bangladesh. As cricket correspondent of the Sunday Times, between 1970 and 1996, he locked horns with Kerry Packer among many others, and his maverick views were impossible to ignore.

A few days before his death, at the memorial event for Ted Dexter in the Long Room at Lord’s, he could be heard laying into Sir Andrew Strauss for the inadequacies of his controversial HighPerformance Review.

But, here in Sussex, this Pickwickian figure is remembered with particular fondness. He was a loose cannon who still managed to hit the target with great regularity. And, even when he missed, his memorably raucous laugh made up for it.

When, in 2003, Bruce Talbot and I worked together on a book, The Longest Journey , to commemorate Sussex’s first County Championship, we found Marlar a wonderful witness, recalling not only that heroic triumph but the years leading up to it.

Shortly after Sussex had sealed the title I had lunch with Robin and his wife, Gill, at their then Guildford home. How did he feel about the Championship, I asked him? He beamed, swelled with pride and invoked Lewis Carroll.

“Twas brillig. And as for Thursday and Friday, when the Jabberwock, the demon who stood between Sussex and victory, had been slain, ‘Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! We chortled in our joy.’ We were champions at long, long last.”

I have another, later memory. It goes back to a September afternoon in 2007 when he charged into the Sussex committee room, trembling with fury.

“Why aren’t the flags at half-mast today,” he demanded.

“Er, why should they be?” came the bewildered reply.

Marlar, enraged, turned on his doubter. “Don’t you realise that Pavarotti died today?” he thundered, before marching out of the room, crashing the door behind him.

But there are so many memories. Those of us who were lucky enough to travel the world following the fortunes of the England team often did so in his company, and Gill’s, and will never forget the entertainment he brought to these occasions, when he was at once genial and acerbic.

He might have been lost to politics. As with Ted Dexter, he attempted to become a Conservative MP in unpromising circumstances. Dexter – who would succeed him as Sussex captain - took on the future prime minister James Callaghan in Cardiff;

Marlar fought the labour stronghold of Bolsover. Bolsover fought back. While playing for Sussex against Derbyshire he told the England fast bowler Les Jackson, who lived in the constituency, that he felt sure he could count on his vote. Jackson whistled one past Marlar’s nose and said: “That’s your answer!”

Oh, and Marlar played cricket too. He was educated at Eton and Harrow, first played for Sussex in 1951 and made his last appearance for the county in 1968. There were 970 first-class wickets at 25.22, including match figures of 15 for 119 against Lancashire in 1955, when he took 139 wickets. Some thought him unlucky not to off-spin for England, but the competition was fierce. There was, above everyone else, Jim Laker, but also Ray Illingworth, Fred Titmus, John Mortimore and David Allen.

As a player, the best story about him concerns his appearance for the Rest of England against Surrey in 1955. He went in as nightwatchman and was stumped second ball – for six! He was protesting to his captain, Doug Insole, after being made to change back out of his evening clothes. “As I was saying,” he said on his return to the pavilion, “I am not a nightwatchman.” Robin Marlar was many other things.