Wallace a special kind of cricketer from an era long gone
March 26th, 2008, 9:48 pm Hobbies News
Wallace, a gentle, ever-helpful soul who never made an enemy in his life, was a reminder of when cricket was a different, more pleasant game.
The Black Caps wore black armbands in acknowledgment of Wallaces death and those mentioning him have cited his career figures to try to explain what a good player he was.
In doing so theyve missed the point entirely.
Wallaces test figures are unimpressive %26mdash; 13 matches, 439 runs, average 20.9.
What should be noted is that he was the best batsman in the New Zealand team on the 1937 tour of England. He scored 1641 runs at 41 and Wisden recorded: %26quot;For a player of under 21 years, he showed remarkable maturity of method and judgment.%26quot; Until Bert Sutcliffes arrival as a test player in 1947, Wallace, %26quot;Flip%26quot; to team-mates, remained New Zealands finest batsman, for a spell of 10 years. It was just his misfortune that he lost his most productive years to World War 2.
He played his third test when he was 20, but didnt play his fourth until he was 29. Imagine if that had happened to Martin Crowe, Stephen Fleming or todays young star, Tim Southee.
Wallace never complained. He went to England again in 1949, past his best, but still scored 910 runs in May to get Walter Hadlees tourists off to a blazing start.
Through most of his 28-year career, Wallace, with his copybook technique, maintained a first-class average of about 50, which was spectacularly good for a part-time amateur.
But Wallace was much more than an outstanding batsman. He was by common consent the best coach ever produced in this country. He coached the national team briefly, and guided John Reids 1956 team to a famous win over the West Indies, New Zealands first-ever test victory.
Amazingly, he was told soon after he was no longer required as the coach, despite the pleas of Reid.
Ironically, Wallace, the most inoffensive of people, was the victim of petty jealousy among members of the New Zealand Cricket board, some of them his contemporaries.
For years Wallace ran national coaching schools, from which players inevitably returned amazed at how much they had learned.
He owned a sports shop in the heart of Auckland and it became a pilgrimage for all sorts of New Zealand cricketers. Players, from Reid, to Dick Motz, to fathers looking for tips to pass on to their sons, to boys not even 10, would pop in for advice. Wallace would find time for everyone and would improve their games.
It was incredible how quickly he could spot a fault and then, speaking in his uniquely high-pitched voice, fix it with a few words.
The point is that Wallace was not paid for all the advice he dispensed.
He belonged to an era long gone.
These days New Zealand cricket abounds with so-called professional coaches. They make good money, wear tracksuits and bustle about importantly. None has anything like the commitment that Wallace showed. Is their primary motivation helping others or making money? Thats what made Wallace so special.
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