Tom Collins - the complete cricketer
Tom didn't bowl. He wasn't a master batsman. So why an all-rounder?
Because Tom, more than most, sought to cross inter-club divides and bring
players together as friends. He saw beyond petty rivalries, jealousies and
egos. He played for several local clubs and for the last half dozen or so
summers he made his home at Beauchief and we're all honoured that he did.
He quickly gained the nick-name The Crab - after his habit of playing
forward, hunched over , bat thrust firmly out to smother the ball. He
formed part of the 2nd XI that gained promotion from the YDCL Div 3 in
2005, scoring some useful runs and fielding stupidly close, especially to
Lal's loopy leg-breaks. He was by common assent, the maddest fielder since
Peter Pratt! His quiet support for the new skipper Steve Dixon is still
much appreciated
About this time he formed the now legendary Meersbrook Meerkats, to play
both indoors at Bawtry Road and also in the Midweek Alliance. This is
where he came into his own, cajoling players from SWD, Parkhead,
Hathersage, Cents, DLS, Millhouses, etc to play together. And what fun we
had. A few weeks ago he said to me that the whole purpose of the Meerkats
was to build friendships between teams and by heck he was right. Meerkat
night's out were fun, yarning cricket and laughing with each other, whilst
Tom, never short of a smile, oversaw all and was rightly chuffed.
Bravery and courageous are words that are easily said, but not easily earned.
Tom was a very brave and courageous man.
He accepted his diagnosis and got on with life. He was given 9 months. He
lived 18, mostly happy months. Last summer, whilst undergoing chemo during
the week, he would play cricket at the weekends. Our stand of 50-odd last
summer, where I apologised for making him run two's, was a highlight. So
was the crawled single at Transport, who's fielders are paralysed with
laughter. On making his ground Tom threw his head back to give that
inimitable braying laugh. His last innings was an undefeated 20-odd in a
50 partnership. He even kept wicket.
He worked until that was no longer possible, he went on holidays, he got
married - at last - to Cath. And when it became apparent playing cricket
was no longer possible, he kept in touch by text and came and watched
whenever possible.
Tom didn't do quiet dignity. He did not go quietly into that good night.
He raged against the dying of the light.
So when he wanted to celebrate his wedding, Cath's birthday and the fact
that he was still here, he had a party, a huge, boisterous affair with
live music. And by God, hundreds came. Cricketers from so many different
teams, friends, work colleagues, family, all those who knew and loved the
man. Old friendships were renewed, laughter resounded, much fun was had.
And presiding above it all sat Tom, dapper in his wedding suit, wearing a
button-hole and a huge grin. He looked upon us all and was happy in all
that he had achieved, by quietly bringing together so many people from so
many backgrounds to celebrate LIFE!
As he left, it was through an impromptu arch of upraised beer glasses held
by cricketers from so many different clubs.
I last saw him on Tuesday. We talked about the great night of the party,
joked that he should be careful not to get sunburnt and he was hopeful of
getting home. Sadly it wasn't to be.
Some weeks ago, he said to me "Well, if this is dying, it ain't so bad".
he may have reprised that remark in his last days, it exemplifies the
over-riding ability Tom had to take the positive from every situation, no
matter how grim it seemed.
Crab, old son, we'll miss you. In the manner of your passing you taught us
all a lesson in how to live.
Goodbye, god bless, see you around.