The King of Lord’s

Martin Chandler | 8:49am BST 23 August 2026

Published: 2026
Pages: 254
Author: Peel, Mark
Publisher: Pitch
Rating: 4 stars

The 50th anniversary of the ‘Bodyline” tour arrived in 1982, and marked the beginning of my passion for cricket history and the game’s literature. I began by eagerly devouring a reprint of Harold Larwood’s autobiography and went from there. There was an excellent television documentary too, and I remember Larwood, Bill Bowes and Bob Wyatt being interviewed for that, as well as Gubby Allen.

There was, of course, a good deal of footage from the tour on the documentary and the beauty and the speed of Harold Larwood on the black and white film, which slowed just about everybody else to medium pace, was remarkable. To my mind almost all fast bowlers tend to look pedestrian on the old newsreels. That didn’t happen with Larwood though, and the only other fast bowler who looked genuinely quick on that footage was Allen, another man with an impressive action.

It was an easy decision therefore, as soon as it was released in 1985, to buy a copy of Jim Swanton’s biography of Allen, Gubby Allen – Man of Cricket. I didn’t know very much about Allen at the time and was easily taken in by the hagiographical work of Swanton. I saw Allen as a remarkable man, and despite his coming over as a little pompous in the old documentary, I was left thinking he was a man for whom I had the greatest respect.

As time went on however I learned that Swanton’s book was misleading. I read about Allen’s snobbishness, about his zeal for the amateur ethos in cricket and the way in which, when a selector, he treated the likes of Fred Trueman and Les Jackson. The end of my initial impression of him came when his letters home from “Bodyline” tour were published in a little book by Brian Rendell, and I saw his description of Harold Larwood and Bill Voce as swollen headed, gutless, uneducated miners.

The more I read about Allen, the less I liked him. His attitude towards Douglas Jardine disappointed me to say the least as he wrote home sometimes I feel I should like to kill him. Their agreement to differ over bowling fast leg theory is well known, but it always seemed to be one of the more curious aspects of Allen’s persona.

Bill Bowes, in that old documentary, expressed the view that Allen was perhaps not sufficiently accurate to bowl “Bodyline”, but Allen was adamant that, I could have bowled it. So was the view expressed by Larwood and Voce that gave rise to that vitriolic comment  correct? That Allen’s reluctance to bowl fast leg theory was motivated by the fact that he did not wish to alienate his Australian friends (Allen was born in Australia)?

And it always struck me as odd that somebody so vehemently opposed to the tactic on principle could have been, as Allen was, seemingly happy to field in the leg trap. In addition there can be no doubt that Allen was, like all good fast bowlers, very competitive in his outlook, and he had no qualms on occasion about using short-pitched bowling himself.

Over the years I learnt other things about Allen that I didn’t like, arising out of the next Ashes tour, that of 1936/37, when Allen was appointed England captain. Two particular issues troubled me with that one firstly the fact that it was, apparently motivated by a personal dislike, Allen’s call that meant the still hugely effective Herbert Sutcliffe was left out of the England side. And then his irritation at a dropped catch by his great friend Walter Robins that gave Bradman a life.

What struck me was that if Allen was looking for reasons why England ultimately lost the series 3-2 then his decision to omit Sutcliffe was surely much higher up the list than Robins’ dropped catch and, unlike Robins’ spill, his action in omitting the best opening batsman in the country was wholly deliberate rather than accidental.

As a consequence of learning this ‘new information’ about Allen I have to confess to losing all faith in Swanton’s book and, to be honest, I have to say that a large part of me was rather hoping that The King of Lord’s would set the record straight and rewrite the Allen legacy for future generations.

As a biographer Mark Peel is not given to allowing his own views to dominate what he is writing, and he is slow to condemn Allen in The King of Lord’s, but he does point out the flaws in his character and most certainly does not paint the same picture Swanton did.

But in my rush to judgment over the swollen headed, gutless, uneducated miners remark I had forgotten that, for all his snobbishness, Allen devoted a great deal of his time in later life to the administration of the game and, quite naturally given this is a biography, Peel reminded me of that as well.

So I have to concede that my views of Allen have veered from one extreme to the other, and that as the years passed his shortcomings and particularly his class prejudices had tended to dominate my perception of him. Thus in an absorbing narrative Mark Peel has managed to set the record straight on two scores. He has called Allen out, but at the same time has also brought out his in many respects selfless devotion to the game. The King of Lord’s is highly recommended.