A drawing by John Corbett Anderson of the United Eleven of All England in 1855; Thomas Hunt is standing on the far left, cradling his bat (Image: via Playing Pasts)
Although it might seem like a recent phenomenon that cricket has been played in more than one format, there was a precedent in the distant past. Once upon a time, many of the leading players took part in something called single-wicket, but — in another historical foreshadowing — some were considerably better at single-wicket than the eleven-a-side version. One of these was a man called Tom Hunt. Typically for the period, he was somewhat rootless: he was born in Chesterfield, played for unofficial Yorkshire and Lancashire teams and played regularly for the Manchester and Sheffield clubs. In another echo across the years, like many professional cricketers, he played for whichever team offered him the best terms. But it was at single-wicket that he excelled, and his reputation inspired legends and memories long after his death in an unfortunate accident at the end of a cricket match.
The two formats of nineteenth century cricket require a little explanation. As well as the traditional game, in which first-class cricket (although such a concept was some way from coming into existence) was becoming pre-eminent despite a dizzyingly muddled and disordered fixture list, there was a popular variant known as “single wicket”. The latter had its own set of rules, its own section in the Laws of Cricket, and its own stars. In the days before railway travel made it economically viable to transport teams of cricketers across the country, men became famous for their solo adventures, challenging all-comers to a game of single wicket. But single-wicket was different in several ways to the sport — then and now — as a team game. Despite the implication of “single” (which referred to how many sets of stumps were used, not how many players on each team), some of the games were two-against-two, three-against-three or more. The bowler only delivered to one end and the batter had to run two lengths of the pitch — touching the stumps at the other end — to complete one run; there could be no overthrows but the batter could not run again once the fielder had thrown the ball across the pitch. Strokes behind the wicket did not count, nor did catches in that area. In some games, fielders helped out but in others, the single cricketer competing had to do all his own fielding. Timings were generous given how tiring this could be: bowlers were allowed up to a minute to recover between deliveries. As with many forms of cricket in this period, betting was doubtless a strong driving force but the attraction of seeing leading players competing against each other was clear, particularly at a time when county cricket had barely got off the ground.
Some of the best players of the mid-nineteenth century were highly effective exponents of single-wicket: men such as Tom Marsden and Fuller Pilch were famous long after their playing days had ended, and both were good single-wicket players. Maybe the most famous (and anticipated) of all single-wicket games — one which has been written about several times — was played between Alfred Mynn and Nicholas Felix at Lord’s in 1846. These two men were among the best cricketers of their time, and the match was extraordinary. Mynn was a round-arm fast bowler and Felix was a lob bowler; both men could bat extremely well. Mynn had been undefeated in single-wicket games since beating James Dearman of Yorkshire in “home” and “away” games in 1838 and was therefore the “Champion of England” (in a rather informal sense). For this game, both competitors were allowed two fielders to support them.
Alfred Mynn (left) and Nicholas Felix illustrated before their first single-wicket game of 1846 (Image: via ESPNcricinfo)
Before a crowd of around 3,000, Felix batted first and was bowled without scoring from his sixteenth ball. Part of the problem was that, as a strong cutter, Felix was hampered by the rules which did not permit runs behind the wicket. Felix had hit eleven of the sixteen deliveries, but failed to score. In reply Mynn made five runs, hitting every one of Felix’s sixteen gentle lobs, before he was caught from a full-blooded hit back at the bowler. The latter therefore batted again and over the course of two hours faced an incredible 247 deliveries from Mynn, most delivered at pace on a notoriously uneven Lord’s pitch. This time, he hit 175 of them, many of these being beautiful cuts that thrilled the crowd but from which no runs were possible. In all he scored just three runs before he was bowled; even with the addition of a wide from Mynn, his total of four meant that he had lost by an innings and one run. In a 2016 article on single-wicket, Jon Hotten described this match as “the format’s final and defining contest” and “the last great game of single-wicket cricket in England”. But it was not quite the end; for example, Mynn and Felix had a re-match later in 1846 at the White Hart Ground in Bromley. Felix lost again, over the course of two days.
But if the Lord’s game was the high-point of the single-wicket game, less prestigious matches continued to flourish for many years. The Cricket History website includes a list of single-wicket matches; even though the list cannot be comprehensive, it is instructive. Over 1,200 games are listed which took place in the 1840s, but if the format lost prestige after that it is not reflected in the games recorded: there were close to 1,350 in the 1850s and around 1,500 in the 1860s before numbers fell away dramatically. There continued to be a market for single-wicket after the Mynn-Felix game, including between big names. Some of these became real marathons, tests of stamina as much as cricketing skill.
One particularly prolonged encounter came in 1849, when Tom Hunt and Robert Crispin Tinley faced each other in Burton-on-Trent over the course of three days in August and September. This contest was sufficiently attractive for Bell’s Life to cover it in depth. Both men were good batters and fast round-arm bowlers. The “home” player Cris Tinley was a promising 18-year-old professional from Burton. He went on to play for Nottinghamshire and, inevitably for good players in this period, for William Clarke’s All-England Eleven. He was associated with the latter for twenty years and also took part in the second tour of Australia by an English team, that of George Parr in 1863–64. In later years he ran a Burton inn and died at the age of 70 in 1900; Tinley’s Wisden obituary said that he “held a very high place among the cricketers of a past generation”. His opponent in 1849 was a far more established player; Bell’s Life noted that Hunt was ten years older, four inches taller and four stones heavier than Tinley. The author noted also that Hunt was extremely experienced at single wicket, and “has been invariable successful; for several years he has given a challenge to all England, and has in vain sought for a competitor to the championship.” In 1849, Hunt had listed a challenge in Bell’s Life to anyone who wanted to face him; his preference was for John Wisden but when the latter declined, Tinley took up the challenge, which offered a prize of £50 to the winner.
Cris Tinley photographed later in life (Image: Trent Bridge)
The young Tinley, playing his first single-wicket game, more than held his own. On the first day (31 August), Tinley won the toss and batted first but was dismissed from his first ball, attempting to hit a leg-side ball and skying it to Hunt. Nevertheless, Tinley impressed with his pace bowling; Hunt struggled to score at first and was hit several times. At one point he had to retire for repairs, and broke two bats, but gradually got on top. He batted for five hours, facing 418 deliveries and scoring 46 runs (with four wides in addition). Bell’s Life noted that he scored seven twos (the rest were ones) which suggests that there must have been some big hits as these would have been equivalent to a modern all-run four. The next day, Hunt in effect declared: he needed to be in Sheffield for an important match and needed to leave that evening; he therefore requested that Tinley should begin his innings. Hunt made a shaky start with the ball and Tinley scored eight runs in the first nine minutes before his opponent settled down. But even then, Hunt could not dismiss Tinley, who had scored 30 runs in 130 minutes when “dinner” was called; after the interval, Tinley had reached a total of fifty after another 80 minutes when, at 5pm, Hunt requested a postponement as he was exhausted and needed to leave for Sheffield. The day ended with Tinley undefeated after scoring 45 runs from 266 balls (plus four wides and a no-ball). His hits included a three (equivalent to an all-run six) and ten twos; the locals were impressed, particularly those who had backed him at very long odds, and he had done his reputation no harm.
The match resumed on 14 September — in the meantime Hunt had played in big games at Sheffield and Manchester — with the scores level. Tinley, continuing his second innings, scored another six runs in 90 minutes and 152 deliveries — and was gifted four wides. Hunt resorted to bowling lobs; these were not particularly good but made Tinley hesitant and eventually he gave a return catch. His total of 51 was scored from 431 deliveries; the extras left Hunt needing eleven runs to win. It took him just 29 minutes to score them, helped by six wides, from 48 deliveries. The drop in quality compared to the first two days disappointed spectators but Tinley had not disgraced himself and Hunt won without being dismissed in either innings, in the process extending his long unbeaten stretch. Unsurprisingly, the match accumulated legends in the retelling; as details became blurred in the memory, some said that the match had lasted “weeks” (technically this was true) and both men had scored hundreds before letting the other have a turn, and that neither man could dismiss the other for days.
As it happened, Hunt was a man about whom it might have been easy to build legends. Although never a famous figure nationally, he was renowned in the north of England and had an excellent career. His reputation was such that he was still being remembered as a formidable cricketer in the 1890s, fifty years after his unfortunate death. Even in 1907, Cricket remembered him as “one of the finest single-wicket players of his day”.
Thomas Hunt was born in Chesterfield on 2 September 1819, the son of Robert Hunt, a shoemaker, and Elizabeth Ralphs. Details on his early life are limited as his early years predate the legal requirement for births to be registered, and details of individuals were not recorded on the 1821 or 1831 census. In 1837, he married Jane Morley (a year younger than him and the daughter of a potter) at North Wingfield in Derbyshire, giving his occupation as a coachmaker. In 1840, their daughter Emily was born and the 1841 census records the family living in Mansfield; Hunt was once more listed as a coachmaker. However, Jane died in 1842, aged just 23.
It was during this turbulent period that Hunt emerged as a cricketer. From what can be pieced together, he made his name in single-wicket matches; it is not impossible to imagine that a scenario in which he answered a challenge in a newspaper as a way of making money. But however it happened, he very soon made an impression. In October 1843, Hunt played George Chatterton at Sheffield and scored 165; this seems to be the highest innings in that form of cricket. It was not his only remarkable performance. In November 1843, he defeated Sam Dakin by an innings and 40 runs. Two years later, in August 1845, he took on an eleven from Knaresborough single-handedly at Chesterfield and won. Bell’s Life listed the game in a review of the 1845 season as taking place on 14 August. Hunt scored 33 and bowled out Knaresborough for 16; in the second innings, he managed ten but his opponents could only score nine in reply, leaving Hunt the winner by eight runs. The Knaresborough eleven was entirely amateur and presumably not very good; Hunt also had “home” advantage and possibly — according to legend — one of the umpires was not entirely sober. Presumably Hunt also had fielders to assist him, otherwise it is hard to see how he could have defeated eleven men, no matter how poor they were.
These and other achievements in single wicket games earned Hunt the nickname “The Star of the North” and provided him with opportunities elsewhere. By the mid-1840s, he was playing as a professional for several clubs, most notably the Manchester Cricket Club, Sheffield Cricket Club, and the Wednesday Club of Sheffield (out of which cricket team grew Sheffield Wednesday Football Club). Through his connection with Sheffield, Hunt played several times for a team known as Yorkshire between 1845 and 1851 (not the official county team, which did not come into existence until 1863); he also played matches (which have been given retrospective first-class status) for Manchester and Sheffield, and for an unofficial Lancashire team in 1849 (both appearances coming against “Yorkshire”). In the early 1850s, Hunt was engaged as the professional and groundsman of Manchester Cricket Club; when a new ground was opened at Old Trafford in 1857, Hunt and his wife were given accommodation in the pavilion.
Despite his growing reputation as a cricketer, Hunt listed himself as a “coachman” on the 1851 census. By then, he lived in Sheffield with his new wife and family; he had married Elizabeth White, who was from Chesterfield, in Nottingham in 1848. They had several children: George Henry (born 1850) and Elizabeth (1851) were later followed by Ann (1855) and George Herbert (1857). However, at the time of the 1851 census, his daughter Emily, from his first marriage, was living with Hunt’s family back in the Chesterfield area.
During the 1850s, Hunt’s reputation reached its height. The best professional side in England was William Clarke’s All-England Eleven which travelled around the country playing local teams; only the growth of railways made it possible for such a team to exist and made it economical for whole teams (rather than individuals, as in the case of single-wicket games) to travel to matches any distance from home. Hunt had already played against Clarke’s eleven for Manchester and for Sheffield, bringing him to Clarke’s notice and in 1850 he joined the touring team. On some occasions, as was common practice, Hunt travelled with the eleven but was “loaned” to the opposition to give them a greater chance of success. He also appeared in several games which offered a clear sign that he was among the best cricketers in England: his first appearance at Lord’s was for the North against the MCC in 1847; in 1850, he played for the Players against the Gentlemen at Lord’s, for much of the nineteenth century unquestionably the most important fixture in England, during which the leading professionals faced the leading amateurs. He also played in another prestigious series of matches, representing the North against the South six times (three of which were at Lord’s). His greatest achievement in first-class cricket came in 1856, opening the batting for the North against the South, when he scored a century against leading bowlers — including John Wisden — at a time such achievements were rare. Bell’s Life described the innings of 102 as “surpassing for defence and style all that we ever saw.”
William Clarke’s All-England Eleven, pictured in 1847 before Hunt joined (Image: Wikipedia)
This was Hunt’s only score over fifty in matches today recognised as first-class, but his overall average of 15.11 in 39 matches was good for the period in which he played; it is worth comparing the career averages of leading contemporary players such as Fuller Pilch (18.61), Nicholas Felix (18.15) and Alfred Mynn (13.42). But as a cricketer, Hunt seems to have done a bit of everything; he could keep wicket (he had nine first-class stumpings) and his fast bowling was responsible for 67 first-class wickets. As a large, powerfully built man (he was 5 feet 8 inches tall and weighed 12 stones), his reputation was for hitting, but Scores and Biographies called him a “fine, upright and scientific batsman”.
He was also involved in a dispute involving the leading professionals around this time. In 1852, a group of rebels who had become disgruntled with Clarke’s leadership of the All-England Eleven broke away to form the rival United All-England Eleven; Hunt was one of the original signatories to a letter which made public their unhappiness with Clarke. Mick Pope, in his Headingley Ghosts (2013), suggests that there was “no love lost between Hunt and Clarke, for whenever the opportunity arose Hunt thrashed Clarke’s lob bowling with great relish”. After Clarke died in 1856, an annual match between the All-England Eleven and the United All-England Eleven became one of the highlights of each season; Hunt played in the first two such fixtures, at Lord’s in 1857, under the captaincy of Wisden. One of his All-England opponents was Cris Tinley. In games such as these, when the team included the best cricketers in England, Hunt rarely, if ever, bowled but occasionally kept wicket. He performed this role in what became his final first-class game, for Manchester against Sussex at Eccles in September 1858.
By this time, Hunt was 39, having celebrated his birthday on the first day of that game, and, having gained weight, was perhaps past his best. He had played for the opposition in a couple of games for the All-England Eleven that season, perhaps indicating some kind of rapprochement after Clarke’s death. A week after he played against Sussex, Hunt appeared in a game in Rochdale, when an “All-England and United All-England Combined Eleven” played a local twenty-two (such games were usually against the odds to make for a better contest) at Merefield Cricket Ground. Alongside Hunt in the Rochdale team were H. H. Stephenson, John Jackson and Thomas Sherman, leading professionals whose role was to strengthen the opposition. For Hunt, it was quite a convenient outing as he lived nearby in Manchester.
The game was unremarkable; it was scheduled for three days, but the weather prevented much play on the first two. Hunt scored 0 and 9, and although Rochdale held their own, the home team collapsed before a crowd of around 5,000 when the weather relented on 11 September, the final day. Needing 80 to win in the fourth innings, they were 33 for thirteen (with eight wickets to fall) when time ran out and the game was drawn.
The location of Merefield Cricket Club was probably on the ground next to Castleton Hall on this 1851 Ordnance Survey Map (surveyed between 1844 and 1847). The railway line can be seen passing to the south-east of the ground. Unfortunately, there are no other maps from this period which might give more information; the next was created over forty years later when the ground was gone. (Image: National Library of Scotland, CC-BY-NC-SA licence)
At the end of the game, Hunt went to collect his fee of £20 but did not stay for the celebration being held at a nearby hotel as he wanted to get home to Manchester by the 7pm train. He had arranged to meet his wife at Manchester’s Victoria Station, as he had done after each the first two days’ play, from where they would take the omnibus to Old Trafford. There was a little-known shortcut from Merefield Cricket Club to Rochdale’s railway station, saving approximately two minutes, which involved going around the back of the pavilion and walking approximately 200 yards along the railway line. Hunt had apparently taken this route many times, including on the first two days of the match in question. After receiving his match fee, he left the ground via this route at around 6:40pm, according to one witness, “perfectly sober”. Accompanying him was a local man called John Wild, who had worked on the railway, but now assisted at Rochdale Cricket Club; Hunt had paid him to carry his bats to the train station. Wild went first along the train track, followed by Hunt around 100 yards behind. It was the practice of those working on the line to keep to the right so they would always see a train coming; perhaps because of his experience on the railway, this is what Wild did. Hunt, however, walked between the tracks.
Wild later told an inquest how a goods train (with around forty carriages) had come past; he had stepped aside to let it go. At the same moment, a passenger train was coming in the other direction travelling at ten or eleven miles per hour. The driver told the inquest that he had sighted Hunt from 100 yards, just after passing the cricket ground, having not seen him sooner owing to the goods train. He immediately shut off his engine and sounded his whistle. But Hunt, who had his back to the train, appeared not to hear it. The driver threw the engine into reverse but it was too late and the train struck Hunt, knocking him down and running over his legs. Both his legs were severed at the calf and the fingers of his left hand, which was on the rail, were crushed. The driver believed all six of his carriages passed over Hunt before the train stopped.
There were various explanations of why Hunt did not react to the train. Wild had previously given a slightly different version, as reported in the press but not repeated at the inquest, that Hunt had seemed “bewildered” by the approach of the train and had been unable to find a safe place to which he could escape, but the driver seems to have been clear (under oath) about what occurred. Another witness to the accident, also not called to the inquest, suggested that the other train had drowned out the sound of the approaching passenger train. The same witness also reported that an acquaintance of Hunt called James Clegg, who had been at the cricket match and had seen Hunt leave, was there; the witness said that Hunt did not initially realise the extent of his injuries and asked Clegg to help him to his feet. When he became aware of what had happened, the witness reported that Hunt said to Clegg: “Yes, I’m dying. I feel it. Lord forgive me. Lord forgive me.” Clegg was a witness at the inquest but did not repeat any of this, although he did state that he saw Hunt after the accident. There seems to have been some discussion at the inquest over whether Hunt was at least partially deaf, which his wife appears to have suggested after his death, but those who played alongside him dismissed such an idea, reporting that he had no problem hearing when a batter had edged a ball.
In the aftermath of the accident, passengers from the train immediately got out to help, and locals arrived on the scene. The time was around 6:50pm. Hunt was placed in a labourer’s truck and carried to the railway station, and when it was seen how serious his condition was, he was taken to a nearby hotel. Medical attention was given, but it was hopeless and Hunt died just after 9pm — five minutes before his wife arrived, having been urgently summoned from Manchester when it was realised that Hunt was dying. She had been warned on her arrival at Rochdale what had happened, but the attempts to prepare her for what she would see delayed her enough so that Hunt was dead before she reached the hotel. Most reports said that he was only conscious for a few minutes after the accident, apart from a few isolated moments. When news reached the celebrating cricketers at another hotel, they immediately ended their gathering and began a collection for Hunt’s widow and children.
An inquest was held on 15 September, four days after Hunt’s death. The coroner made clear that no-one, particularly the train driver, was responsible and the 16-man jury returned a verdict of accidental death. There was some argument about how much the train company could have done to prevent such incidents, and the discussion became quite heated at some points. A representative of the railway company emphasised that any such travel along the tracks was unauthorised; he insisted that his company bore no liability for what happened. The manager of the railway station conceded that he had allowed some people to travel along the line to the cricket ground, but Hunt was doing so without permission; the company representative seemed less than impressed by the discovery that anyone at all had been allowed to do so and the manager had clearly exceeded his authority. A recommendation from the coroner, endorsed by the jury, was that the railway company should prohibit anyone walking on the track. The representative of the company gave a donation there and then to the growing fund for Hunt’s family and planned to ask the directors, on behalf of Rochdale Cricket Club, to open a subscription. The company also waived a fee for transporting Hunt’s body back to Manchester. By the time of his burial later that day, the fund had raised over £70.
Hunt’s death was widely reported in newspapers, and the inquest was covered across the country, including in the Morning Chronicle in London. The fullest account of the death and inquest was printed in the Rochdale Observer; the details from the witness who claimed to have heard Hunt’s last words were printed in the Liverpool Mail. A later claim by R. S. Holmes in his History of Yorkshire County Cricket Club 1833–1903 (1904) that Hunt had been drunk was entirely without substance. A subscription was also opened for Hunt in Sheffield.
To compound the misery of Hunt’s wife Elizabeth, she was around four months pregnant with their fifth child, Henrietta (who was born in March 1859), at the time of his death. By the time of the 1861 census, she and four of the children (there is no further trace of George Henry; he was either dead or the family had subtracted eight years from his age and changed his second name to Herbert) were living in Hulme, Manchester. She listed herself as a “fundholder”, perhaps still living off the collections made for her late husband. The 1871 census lists Elizabeth (with the occupation of “housekeeper”) and the same four children still living in Hulme, but with an additional child, Bertha, born in 1865. Bertha died in late 1871, but the others were still at the same address in 1881. Mrs Hunt, and her daughters Elizabeth and Anne, still lived in Hulme in 1891, albeit at a different address, but she is listed as “living on her own means”; the three women, joined by George Herbert, are still there in 1901. By 1911, they had moved to Stretford and the 60-year-old Elizabeth was working as a shopkeeper, assisted by her sister Annie. Elizabeth Hunt née White died in June 1912, never having remarried. Only Emily (who was 17 when her father died) and Henrietta seem to have married and had children.
The Merefield Cricket Ground no longer exists; it was sold for redevelopment in 1867. The bowling club which succeeded to the land is still there; known today as the Castleton Bowling Club, it is surrounded by houses and remains close to the railway line and station where Tom Hunt was killed over 160 years ago.
Old Ebor 
