Windrush Cricket

Martin Chandler | 9:18am GMT 04 January 2026

Published: 2025
Pages: 217
Author: Collins, Michael
Publisher: Oxford University Press
Rating: 4.5 stars

Most cricket books are, irrespective of how good they might be, a relatively straightforward proposition, and not unduly taxing to read. Windrush Cricket is a very different challenge however. Author Michael Collins is a professional historian and a distinguished academic and if the bare bones of the title do not prepare the reader for what they are about to receive the sub-title does; Imperial Culture, Caribbean Migration and the Remaking of Postwar England.

Which is my way of saying this is a book that demands its reader’s full attention. There is no point in picking this one up for five minutes and expect to get much from it, which means that for me it is just as well that it arrived two days before Christmas, thus giving me plenty of time to sit down and concentrate on  it.

And even then I did get off to a slow start. The background to the concept of the ‘West Indies’ and cricket in the region was essentially familiar although, and this is a consistent theme throughout the book, I was at times taken aback by the size of some of the gaps in my knowledge, or the fact that the significance of certain events in history had previously passed me by.

It may also be the case that I was slightly put off also, as I always am, by any criticism, express or implied, of the greatest of my cricket writing heroes, Neville Cardus. But there are some shockers here. In describing the 1928 West Indian tourists Cardus wrote of them in the Manchester Guardian; There are six of them as black as ebony, and three with faces of chocolate brown. When they smile they are loveable; we see white teeth and we think of melons and the dear humorous friends of our nursery days in a hundred tales of the old plantations, and more than once he references “Jazz” coon cricketers.

Taking into account the era in which he was writing, and that there is evidence such as the strength of his friendship with CLR James that demonstrates Cardus was not, as such, a racist, these words are difficult to read, even a century after they were written.

The reference in the title to Windrush, a story and scandal much in the news in recent years, clearly signposts the core of the book, which is concerned with the development of the Caribbean community in post war Britain. Again it is a story I have some familiarity with, and indeed I have lived through much of it.

My initial reaction to the unfolding story and cricket’s role in it was one of fascination and, once again, surprise at how so many important points had eluded me in the past. That said I slowly realised that in fact the basic knowledge was something I always had but, to my discredit, I had failed to properly think about. The classic example of that is the way in which a very large number of exclusively West Indian cricket clubs grew up throughout the country. It was only as the story reached the years of my adulthood that I started to realise that after all the fact of the existence of some of these was actually very familiar indeed even if the ‘why’ was not.

Likewise the next part of the book, the development of the story in the 1970s as, under Clive Lloyd and with a formidable battery of fast bowlers, the West Indies became the dominant force in the world game. My recollection is that despite the humbling defeats England consistently suffered I was enthralled by what I saw, and had nothing but admiration for the way the West Indies went about their cricket.

Again however what I had forgotten was brought back into view. Yes of course there was hostility and disapproval, and some men from another generation of writers used language which, whilst not quite as shocking as that of Cardus, clearly demonstrated an underlying prejudice. By now what I was beginning to realise was that, as a member of the white middle class, however enlightened I might have felt I was then I didn’t and indeed still don’t have a clue as to what it is like to be on the wrong end of prejudice.

Those who did know, and did so only too well, were other members of my generation. Men and women who had either spent the bulk of their lives in England or, increasingly, had been born here. The experiences of Monte Lynch, Roland Butcher and Lonsdale Skinner, and later of the likes of Phil De Freitas and Devon Malcolm shed much light on a dark corner of British life and one which was to be found in English cricket as well.

And of course we now have a situation where, unlike a generation ago, there are very few professional cricketers who have any roots in the Caribbean. The reason for this might, I suppose, simply arise out of time marching on and recreational cricketers continue to dwindle in number generally. As Collins demonstrates however that is not the reason and I was left with the impression that whilst there undoubtedly have been steps forward taken in recent years much, sadly, still remains the same.

One description of books that I am conscious of having used in some past reviews is ‘thought provoking’. For me Windrush Cricket went rather further than that which, perhaps, is the greatest compliment I can pay it. As I said out the outset it isn’t an easy read, but it is one that is well worth investing time in.