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Different Class: The Untold Story of English Cricket
In 1963, the West Indian Marxist C.L.R. James posed the deceptively benign question: “What do they know of cricket, who only cricket know?”
A challenge to the public to re-consider cricket and its meaning, James was, all too subtly, attempting to counter the game’s elitist orthodoxy. Regrettably, he failed, and the history of cricket in England remains as it did a century ago — until now.
In examining recreational rather than professional (first-class) cricket, Different Class does not merely challenge the orthodoxy of English cricket, it demonstrates how the values and belief systems at its heart were developed in order to divide the English at every level of the game.
Indeed, be it the discrete cricket cultures of the “urban” North and the “rural” South of England, gender, social class or race; the history of recreational cricket tells us more about the (un)changing nature of English society — and how it works — than any study of the first-class game ever could.
A challenge to the public to re-consider cricket and its meaning, James was, all too subtly, attempting to counter the game’s elitist orthodoxy. Regrettably, he failed, and the history of cricket in England remains as it did a century ago — until now.
In examining recreational rather than professional (first-class) cricket, Different Class does not merely challenge the orthodoxy of English cricket, it demonstrates how the values and belief systems at its heart were developed in order to divide the English at every level of the game.
Indeed, be it the discrete cricket cultures of the “urban” North and the “rural” South of England, gender, social class or race; the history of recreational cricket tells us more about the (un)changing nature of English society — and how it works — than any study of the first-class game ever could.
- GenresNonfiction
320 pages, Paperback
First published January 11, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
February 13, 2023
It will probably come as no surprise to most people to discover that cricket is a class-ridden sport. For years the game has been inextricably linked with an idealised image of Englishness, the ‘right way’ of behaving and a reinforcement of the prevailing social order. Duncan Stone’s excellent book highlights all this, but he does so by looking at the recreational game rather than first class cricket. What he reveals is a cricketing establishment that has held the development of the game back through divide and rule, xenophobia, racism, fear of change and an overall outlook which harbours suspicion and outright opposition to every progressive move that society has made. Cricket’s administrators have presided over a carnival of reaction over many years that saw them hold back popular regional competitions in the name of preserving the ‘essence’ of the game as they wanted to see it and generally looking down their noses at working class players and supporters. Despite recent developments like the rise of 20/20 and cup cricket that have opened up the game to more and more people, Stone argues that many of the ossified and reactionary views that have held cricket back for so long are still the prevailing coda at the top of the game. According to Stone, until cricket at all levels reflects the modern and diverse society that Britain is today then the game will continue to fail to win the wide support it should be achieving. As a lover of cricket, I hope that the game is able to cast off its elitist trappings to make the progress that’s needed. On the evidence of Stone’s book though, I won’t be holding my breath.
September 17, 2023
**Shortlisted for the Lord Aberdare Literary Prize 2023**
There are few social pastimes and activities so mythologised as sport, and few sports as mythologised as cricket. It is, we are told, historically England’s national game, the pastime of gentlemen and players, equally accessible to all (if on very different terms, explicitly so until the early 1960s), and all village green and tea tent. The thing about being a myth sceptic, and actively not believing them, is that I forget that there are plenty out there who do believe – and as Duncan Stone shows in this outstanding piece of social history, many of upper echelon of the game have been true believers.
Stone does two vital things that make this book stand out. First, he focuses explicitly on class – both identities and associations; this marks the book as distinct and apart from the more common focus on nation or region, race or gender in cricket writing. Second, he explores class through a focus on recreational cricket – the amateur game not of the privileged ‘gentleman’, but the weekend player in the local club. Yet this is not some romanticised invocation of the village green, but a critical unpacking of the recreational game looking at its organisation, its organisations, and drawing on both extensive archival research and a reflexive unpacking of his experience as a club player, mainly in Surrey.
Before going any further, the world of academic British sport history is quite small, and I know Duncan well as a sharp fellow researcher in the field and chum. What’s more I was sent a copy early (November 201) by the publisher in the hope of an early review, but by the time it arrived I had taken on a role as judging a prize that this would be nominated for – so unfortunately not such an early review, but one 22 months late (and after having read the book twice).
There are three things that stand out for me as making this an excellent piece. The ‘conventions’ of historical research, of archive diving and rummaging, are very well done as well as interviews and other work with contemporary participants in the game. Unfortunately, in the interests (I expect) of clarity and commercial imperatives, the book lacks that key element of academic practice: end or footnotes, so in places the specific sources are unclear. This is a difficult trade-off for scholarly authors wanting to reach a wider audience. Second, the focus is clear and explicit throughout, posing new questions, reflecting on old ones in a new way, and challenging us to see what we thought we knew in a different way – making this high quality revisionist history. And third, the book is very well written, engaging and drawing out complexities in clear and explicit ways that do not speak down to readers. I know from conversations with Duncan that a huge amount of work went into that, both on his part and his publisher – and there’s something there for more of us in the academy to pay attention to. There are sizeable parts of the book that draw on Stone’s PhD thesis, and it is to his (and his publisher’s) credit that these are marked only by a slight difference in evidential underpinning, not style or approach.
The other real strength of the book is the way it maintains a delicate balance between awareness of and engagement with contemporary pressing issues while not allowing those issues and pressure to determine the shape, form, and direction of the analysis and argument. This is a difficult path to so successfully walk and in doing so Stone has carefully historicised some of those contemporary issues – the game’s commercialisation, exclusionary costs, presumptions of style and demeanour, uses and deployment of development funding – while also showing how many of those issues are grounded in long-term trends and deeply embedded outlooks and practices. This balance does, however, wobble the closer the discussion comes to the present, perhaps because it always takes time for trends and pattern to emerge to our satisfaction as historians
This, then, is an excellent example of well-crafted social history. It asks and sets out to make sense of who did what, when, why, and with what effect. The evidence is rigorous and methodically laid out, while remaining engaging, and the focus is and remains clear even as Stone shifts perspectives to take in ways of looking at the game that draw on the mechanics and organisation of recreational leagues in late nineteenth century Yorkshire, look at perceptions of class standing in local clubs in Surrey, and consider the interlocking dynamics of class and ‘race’ in London. And crucially, it is about making sense – so the argument is sharply analytical. If there is a weakness in all of this, it’s the tightness of focus on England (that is, of course, also a major strength) that means that some of the shifting global pressures around the game do not feature perhaps as much as they could – but at just shy of 300 pages, there’s only so much we can wish for.
This is a major contribution to writing on English cricket, a significant contribution to debates around the game, and is being picked up in a wide range of contexts and settings with Stone being actively drawn into debates about the current state of the game. As scholars, we all hope our work will reach a wide audience and have an impact: we should be so lucky. Highly recommended.
There are few social pastimes and activities so mythologised as sport, and few sports as mythologised as cricket. It is, we are told, historically England’s national game, the pastime of gentlemen and players, equally accessible to all (if on very different terms, explicitly so until the early 1960s), and all village green and tea tent. The thing about being a myth sceptic, and actively not believing them, is that I forget that there are plenty out there who do believe – and as Duncan Stone shows in this outstanding piece of social history, many of upper echelon of the game have been true believers.
Stone does two vital things that make this book stand out. First, he focuses explicitly on class – both identities and associations; this marks the book as distinct and apart from the more common focus on nation or region, race or gender in cricket writing. Second, he explores class through a focus on recreational cricket – the amateur game not of the privileged ‘gentleman’, but the weekend player in the local club. Yet this is not some romanticised invocation of the village green, but a critical unpacking of the recreational game looking at its organisation, its organisations, and drawing on both extensive archival research and a reflexive unpacking of his experience as a club player, mainly in Surrey.
Before going any further, the world of academic British sport history is quite small, and I know Duncan well as a sharp fellow researcher in the field and chum. What’s more I was sent a copy early (November 201) by the publisher in the hope of an early review, but by the time it arrived I had taken on a role as judging a prize that this would be nominated for – so unfortunately not such an early review, but one 22 months late (and after having read the book twice).
There are three things that stand out for me as making this an excellent piece. The ‘conventions’ of historical research, of archive diving and rummaging, are very well done as well as interviews and other work with contemporary participants in the game. Unfortunately, in the interests (I expect) of clarity and commercial imperatives, the book lacks that key element of academic practice: end or footnotes, so in places the specific sources are unclear. This is a difficult trade-off for scholarly authors wanting to reach a wider audience. Second, the focus is clear and explicit throughout, posing new questions, reflecting on old ones in a new way, and challenging us to see what we thought we knew in a different way – making this high quality revisionist history. And third, the book is very well written, engaging and drawing out complexities in clear and explicit ways that do not speak down to readers. I know from conversations with Duncan that a huge amount of work went into that, both on his part and his publisher – and there’s something there for more of us in the academy to pay attention to. There are sizeable parts of the book that draw on Stone’s PhD thesis, and it is to his (and his publisher’s) credit that these are marked only by a slight difference in evidential underpinning, not style or approach.
The other real strength of the book is the way it maintains a delicate balance between awareness of and engagement with contemporary pressing issues while not allowing those issues and pressure to determine the shape, form, and direction of the analysis and argument. This is a difficult path to so successfully walk and in doing so Stone has carefully historicised some of those contemporary issues – the game’s commercialisation, exclusionary costs, presumptions of style and demeanour, uses and deployment of development funding – while also showing how many of those issues are grounded in long-term trends and deeply embedded outlooks and practices. This balance does, however, wobble the closer the discussion comes to the present, perhaps because it always takes time for trends and pattern to emerge to our satisfaction as historians
This, then, is an excellent example of well-crafted social history. It asks and sets out to make sense of who did what, when, why, and with what effect. The evidence is rigorous and methodically laid out, while remaining engaging, and the focus is and remains clear even as Stone shifts perspectives to take in ways of looking at the game that draw on the mechanics and organisation of recreational leagues in late nineteenth century Yorkshire, look at perceptions of class standing in local clubs in Surrey, and consider the interlocking dynamics of class and ‘race’ in London. And crucially, it is about making sense – so the argument is sharply analytical. If there is a weakness in all of this, it’s the tightness of focus on England (that is, of course, also a major strength) that means that some of the shifting global pressures around the game do not feature perhaps as much as they could – but at just shy of 300 pages, there’s only so much we can wish for.
This is a major contribution to writing on English cricket, a significant contribution to debates around the game, and is being picked up in a wide range of contexts and settings with Stone being actively drawn into debates about the current state of the game. As scholars, we all hope our work will reach a wide audience and have an impact: we should be so lucky. Highly recommended.
August 14, 2023
An iconoclastic polemic against elitism and discrimination in cricket, mostly focussing on the recreational game. At times in the middle sags a bit describing parochial administrative clashes, but overall a fierce and effective account in the tradition of CLR James, Mike Marqusee and Gideon Haigh.
January 25, 2022
This was an unexpected delight as it a wonderfully researched treasure trove of revisionist history and facts about the development of the game of cricket which skewers and debunks the myths about it being a game for the upper class and gentlemen.
Duncan Stone is an academic who has immersed himself in the history of the recreational game and provides valuable insights into the history of cricket leagues not just in the North of England as is already well known, but also reveals how hard competitive cricket was also commonplace in the South.
He is particularly strong on the myopic and prejudiced way that the game has been run and the hoary old tropes that have persisted throughout the decades.
It a an important book that deserves to be read by all interested in the history and running of the game.
Duncan Stone is an academic who has immersed himself in the history of the recreational game and provides valuable insights into the history of cricket leagues not just in the North of England as is already well known, but also reveals how hard competitive cricket was also commonplace in the South.
He is particularly strong on the myopic and prejudiced way that the game has been run and the hoary old tropes that have persisted throughout the decades.
It a an important book that deserves to be read by all interested in the history and running of the game.
April 10, 2022
*Thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for supplying a copy of this e-book in return for an honest review.*
This must-read social history of cricket exposes the myths of the gentleman's game throughout time. But it is not just a read for cricket or history buffs but a must-read for people trying to understand England's place in the world and sport. Probably the most amazing part of this book is the way it delves deep into the history of cricket that even as a fan I didn't know I didn't know. By exploring the class and racial dynamics of cricket over time we not only see the ways that society influenced the game but more interestingly how the game has influenced the society it is played in.
This must-read social history of cricket exposes the myths of the gentleman's game throughout time. But it is not just a read for cricket or history buffs but a must-read for people trying to understand England's place in the world and sport. Probably the most amazing part of this book is the way it delves deep into the history of cricket that even as a fan I didn't know I didn't know. By exploring the class and racial dynamics of cricket over time we not only see the ways that society influenced the game but more interestingly how the game has influenced the society it is played in.
March 15, 2022
Vital reading for anyone interested in the history but also the health and future of cricket in England. Forensically researched, lays low many myths surrounding this game. Although it lays bare the classism and racism that underlie cricket in England and the short termism that besets planning I would have liked a reference to the sexism that has dogged the game. I recognise that this was a little outside Stone’s remit but at least a mention was warranted. I hope all cricket administrators read this book.
R H Young, Dhanmondi Road (2019).
R H Young, Dhanmondi Road (2019).
February 28, 2022
Great book. Must read.
March 24, 2022
Much needed and well written history of cricket, focusing on an often ignored (or deliberately obfuscated) class analysis of the game.
April 13, 2022
Great read! Different Class reveals how & why 🏏 in England got here & what it needs to do now
August 3, 2023
I thought a book on cricket and class would be my ideal book. Maybe I expected too much as a result. It's about recreational cricket and feels like it's mainly about what Major General Posho said at several meetings in 1953.
Far too much he said he said in meetings, far too little analysis for my personally to find to enjoyable.
Far too much he said he said in meetings, far too little analysis for my personally to find to enjoyable.
June 2, 2022
Beautifully researched and written social history of English Cricket charting the class and race tensions in the game over time which are ever present and ever more relevant in the here and now. Debunks some of the myths around the wholly misguided bucolic view of the 'gentlemen's game' when the reality was much different. Doesn't hold any punches on those in charge of the game, writing about the game as well as those commentating. Thoroughly recommend for cricket fans and history buffs.
July 19, 2023
This raises some very good issues but it is unfocused at times. There's a good forty pages on random Home Counties leagues that seem like classic yearbook fodder.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews