It’s Cricket, Abe – But Not As You Knew It
Modern international cricket owes a surprising debt to a man who was born in the middle of nowhere, barely scraped together a handful of runs in first-class cricket, and somehow still managed to shape the sport’s future.
Sir Abraham “Abe” Bailey wasn’t exactly cricket royalty on the pitch. In his brief first-class career — just three matches — he never scored more than eight in any innings. His top score at any senior level? A grand total of 16 not out. On the bright side, he did take 11 wickets at a respectable average of 18.27, so at least he had some use for the ball.
Yet it was Bailey’s off-field vision that left a lasting mark. Speaking in England in 1907, he said:
“Inter-rivalry within the Empire cannot fail to draw together in closer friendly interest all those many thousands of our kinsmen who regard cricket as our national sport…”
Translation: If we make cricket an international thing within the Empire, it’ll bring us all closer together — and keep it amateur, just like the good old days.
A few years later, Bailey got his wish. In 1912, England hosted a triangular Test tournament featuring Australia and South Africa. Unfortunately, the event was cursed from the get-go. The English summer was soggy even by their standards, the Aussies showed up without six top players (including the legendary Victor Trumper) due to a bust-up with cricket’s bureaucracy, and South Africa forgot to pack their star wrist-spinner, Ernie Vogler. The results were as damp as the weather: two innings defeats, two 10-wicket thrashings, and zero chance of a sequel.
Still, the seed had been planted. Actually, by 1909 the sapling had already sprouted — the Imperial Cricket Conference (now the ICC) had been born, with Bailey playing midwife to the whole thing. Over a century later, that baby has grown into the sprawling, 108-member global behemoth that runs the international game today.
So who exactly was this man with grand imperial dreams and a slightly underwhelming batting average?
Born in 1864 in Cradock — now Nxuba — a tiny town in South Africa’s Eastern Cape, Bailey had Yorkshire and Scottish roots. He later struck it rich in the gold and diamond rushes of southern Africa, becoming one of the powerful “Randlords” alongside a name you definitely know: Cecil Rhodes.
Bailey was so fond of Rhodes, in fact, that when his daughter was born, he named her… Cecil. (To balance things out, their next child — a son — was named John. Progress.)
In 1902, Bailey entered politics and won a seat once held by Rhodes himself. From there, it was a short step to cricket diplomacy and empire-wide sporting ambition.
Now, fast-forward to today. What would Bailey make of the modern game?
Would he believe that the country he helped exploit — now Zimbabwe — is playing its first Test in England in 22 years, albeit a four-day version? Or that South Africa, the land of his birth, is set to take on Australia in a World Test Championship Final at Lord’s — possibly over six days?
Would he be stunned to see Miss Universe Zimbabwe 2025 cheering from the stands at Trent Bridge, surrounded by Zimbabwean fans belting out songs under Nottingham’s reliably grey skies?
Would he marvel at the idea that his once-exclusive, Empire-themed cricket club now has 108 members, with a dozen Test-playing nations? That women not only play the game — they dominate it? That cricket is now more Asian than Anglo, and the biggest superstars speak Hindi, Tamil, and Bengali, not just English with a posh accent?
And what would he say about Indian scholar Ashis Nandy’s famous quote:
“Cricket is an Indian game accidentally discovered by the English”?
It’s safe to say Abe Bailey wouldn’t recognize the cricket we play today. But he’d surely be fascinated — and probably flabbergasted — by what his modest little cricket council has become.
It’s cricket, Abe, but not as you knew it.