James Hildreth – Somerset Steel – Batting Genius

James Hildreth has retired from professional cricket. His career will one day, no doubt, make a classic cricket book. But now, as Somerset supporters everywhere are remembering one of the last great single-team domestic careers, here are one person’s personal memories of some of the greatest moments of Hildreth’s Somerset career. There was more, much, much more that I did not see, but I hope this will give something of a flavour of the joy of watching James Hildreth, once Somerset cricketer, now Somerset legend, playing at the top of his game.

September 20^th, 2016. A day which will forever live in the annals of Somerset cricket. It was the first day of the last match of the season and the atmosphere pulsated with tension. Somerset had a chance of winning the County Championship, but to keep that chance alive they had to win the match. In the end the title went to Middlesex after an agreed declaration against Yorkshire at Lord’s, but on the first day that was in the future. Nottinghamshire were Somerset’s opponents. Somerset won the toss and elected to bat. By the time they had reached 33, Jake Ball, bowling thunderbolts, had dismissed Marcus Trescothick and Tom Abell and you could hear a pin drop as James Hildreth joined Chris Rogers. The Somerset innings was in the balance. There then ensued perhaps the most remarkable performance in the history of Somerset cricket. Hildreth had reached seven when Ball dispatched another thunderbolt. Full and unerringly accurate it crashed into Hildreth’s ankle, breaking it as it struck. The excruciating agony Hildreth suffered was toe-clenchingly obvious to every person in the ground.

Miraculously, a much-overused word, but not in this instance, he remained at the crease, his bat instantly taking on a second purpose. It served, as it always had, as a wand with which he purveyed the most magical of strokes. But it also became a walking stick. Tom Abell acted as his runner for four of the most astounding hours of cricket I have ever seen. Throughout that time Hildreth used his bat to aid him in hobbling to square leg or the far end of the pitch when not on strike. It was wincingly painful to watch. With the Championship perhaps in the balance, the sights and the tension of that day will be forever engraved on my Somerset heart. I watched the entire innings from what was then the Marcus Trescothick Stand, now the River Stand, shortly to be re-named for the second time, this time as The James Hildreth Stand.

With feet anchored to the crease by pain, at times almost unbearable to watch, let alone to suffer, Hildreth’s attacking strokes were played mainly straight and through the off side, the leg side being largely off limits, perhaps beyond the extremes of the pain, or damage limitation, barrier. A succession of straight and cover drives had all the effortless majesty they had always had when he was at his best, with the ball leaving the bat as if propelled and directed by some unseen power. It was the execution that differed on this day, no foot movement, just wrist movement and timing.

Heads around the ground slowly shook and pairs of eyes looked at each other in disbelieving awe at what was unfolding in front of them. If any doubted the restrictions on Hildreth’s movement and the pain he endured, they were removed when he attempted to pull a bouncer. The feet moved into position, the bat flowed through the stroke and the ball flew to the boundary. But the agony which the foot movement inflicted on Hildreth was plain for all to see as his body shuddered in response. He all but lost his balance as he instinctively lifted his foot to relieve the pain and, compensating with the bat, hobbled in agony until he regained his balance. It was a breath-stopping moment.

And yet, with the Championship potentially on the line, he stayed at the crease. It mattered not what the bowlers did, he stood firm for Somerset. With the feet anchored, the ball continued to flow unerringly from those wrist-powered strokes. Few had expected him to return after the lunch interval, but out he hobbled to huge applause and not a few tears as people struggled to contain their emotions at an innings the like of which few, if any, could have seen before. His century came from 199 balls, most of those delivered after his ankle had been broken. The ground rose to its feet as one, hands clapping above heads or outstretched from chests within which hearts palpitated and breaths fought with the emotions for air as tissues and handkerchiefs surreptitiously removed tears. And before eyes were properly dry, Hildreth prepared to carry on.

He added another 35 runs, and with Chris Rogers posted a total of 269 for the third wicket at nearly four runs an over. It was an innings that defied, and defies, belief. In comparison it seems almost an intrusion to record that both he and Rogers passed a thousand first-class runs for the season during the course of their innings. It was a glorious exhibition of batting by any standards. Achieved with the agony of a broken ankle it was an astonishing one. It will live for an eternity in the memory of anyone who witnessed it. Many things are said to be unforgettable. Hildreth’s innings on 20^th September 2016 truly was. Somerset steel. Batting genius.  

September 26^th and 27^th, 2017. Another last match of the season. This match was an altogether different proposition. Somerset entered it having been hot favourites for relegation from the first division for most of the season. There were now several ways in which they might avoid the drop depending on results elsewhere, and when the final round of matches ended just two points separated the team in the second relegation spot, Warwickshire having been relegated before the final round of matches, and the three teams above them. Additional tension hung over this match because Somerset began it 16 points behind their opponents, Middlesex, who had the same number of wins. In one sense, that made Somerset’s task straightforward. Defeat Middlesex and take at least as many bonus points and they would be safe whatever happened elsewhere. Middlesex though, in those circumstances would be relegated. It was a knife-edge from which one team would fall.

The match was played on a pitch favouring spin, 31 of the 40 wickets to fall in the match fell to spinners. Somerset won an important toss, batted first, and headed Middlesex by 94 runs on first innings. A good Somerset second innings score was crucial to heap pressure on Middlesex when they batted against Jack Leach, Dom Bess and Roelof van der Merwe in their second innings. At 26 for 2 Hildreth walked to the wicket with the Middlesex spinners, including Ravi Patel who had taken seven of Somerset’s first innings wickets, standing between Somerset and a commanding lead. Somerset were still ahead in the match, but if there was a way back for Middlesex the door to it had just been prized ajar. Hildreth, in a spellbinding demonstration of how to play spin bowling on a helpful pitch, slammed it shut.

He batted three minutes over four hours with an intensity of concentration evident from the Trescothick Stand from where I again watched every ball. Every Somerset supporter, desperate for first division survival, was perched precariously on the edge of their seat while Hildreth held sway as Patel took five more wickets at the other end. I can capture the nature of the innings, and of James Hildreth’s contribution to Somerset cricket, no better than I did in this extract from my match report written at the time (statistics as at 2017):

“On the cricketing front James Hildreth completed a century in typical Hildrethian style with a perfectly directed cut backward of square. It was a century in two parts. On the third morning he took no prisoners, attacking incessantly with whatever stroke came to hand. Once, he bisected two closely adjacent fielders precisely placed for the stroke with a precision which suggested he had directed the line of the ball to the boundary with a pair of compasses rather than a bat. On the second day he had been as precise but more circumspect as Somerset built a secure base.

Someone nearby commented that Hildreth infuriates with his ability to play like he did in this innings, and on another day lose his wicket with an ambitious stroke too early in the proceedings. Wishing for consistency from a player like James Hildreth is like wishing the sun would shine when the sky is as heavily overcast as it was on this day. It doesn’t work like that as they say and wishing that it would leads to continual and pointless disappointment. For wish all you like, Hildreth is an artist, a mercurial genius with the bat and mercury cannot be moulded, and the cricket world would be a less exciting place if it could.

Playing as he does Hildreth has scored over 15000 first-class runs and 41 first-class centuries. By way of comparison with some other key batsmen in this match Hildreth averages 43 and has scored a first-class century every 9.3 innings. Trescothick averages 42 and has scored a first-class century every 9.9 innings. Robson averages 39 and scores a first-class century every 11.8 innings and Nick Compton averages 41 and scores a first-class century every 12.5 innings. Perhaps we should give thanks for what we have, stop expecting the sun to shine every day, and glory in those days when it does, which appears to be at least as often as it does for other top county batsmen.” Such was James Hildreth in his glorious pomp.

May 20^th, 2010. Much is made, and with good cause, of Peter Trego’s century against Yorkshire at Taunton in 2009 which took Somerset home to a target of 476. It was not the only such Somerset run chase, although no other achieved quite that magnitude. Yorkshire returned to Taunton in 2010. The match was destined to be a draw when Hildreth and Nick Compton suddenly began to toss up the most innocuous declaration bowling imaginable. Yorkshire supporters in front of me in the Trescothick Stand who had watched the 2009 match hung their heads in disbelief that it might happen again. Somerset were set 362 to win in 68 overs, over five runs an over across two sessions and a bit.

When Compton was out at 165 for 3, 195 were needed in 39 overs, still five runs an over. If there was doubt among Somerset supporters, Hildreth, with Zander de Bruyn and Jos Buttler, dispatched it in an avalanche of spectacular stroke play. A century from 68 balls with ten fours and a six from Hildreth to the fore. The innings sticks in the memory still, at least an impressionist image of it. It is too far back now to remember the detail or if the sun shone, although the images of the ground in the memory are bright enough for it to have shone the afternoon long. The memories of the innings too. Hildreth, and whoever was at the other end, driving hard for the quickest of singles and twos. Boundaries leaving his bat as if self-propelled into the gaps, mainly square if memory serves. Gaps that few others could find or, so it often seemed when he was in that sort of form, invent. It was Hildreth at his best. So little power did he seem to exert on the racing ball, yet race it did. And spare a thought for the poor fielder placed for the stroke but left floundering in its wake.

Spinners, so the scorecard tells me, bowled half the overs so the sweep and, to split the field, the reverse sweep must have played their part, for they were weapons of choice for Hildreth against the spinner when he was on the attack. Doubtless there were a few alarums, for there always are when the sweep is employed, but they have long been expunged from the memory by that turbo-charged running and exquisite, breath-catching boundary finding. Hildreth, it needs also to be said, understated though his presence on the field usually was, was as fast between the wickets as the hare that was once pursued by greyhounds around the Taunton boundary on Tuesday and Friday evenings. In the end Somerset won with three overs to spare. Doubtless such an innings as Hildreth’s, played at breakneck speed on the edge of technical possibility, needs a steely concentration, but it was the genius of his stroke making, the near-silent crack of his timing and the precision of his placement which held the attention as Somerset once again swept Yorkshire aside.

It was once said that Hildreth scored most of his runs at Taunton. There is a grain of truth in that, but only a grain. The bald statistics are that he scored 9,253 first-class runs at Taunton at an average of 44.27 and 8,747 away from Taunton at an average of 37.70. Of his 47 first-class centuries, 27 were scored at Taunton and 20 away from Taunton. Of 81 first-class fifties, 34 were scored at Taunton and 47 away from Taunton. But the joy of watching James Hildreth bat had little to do with statistics and everything to do with the genius of his stroke play. The smoothly propelled drive dispatched with an apparent absence of power in the stroke. The artistry of that slight lean into the on drive, of the apparently minimal touch of bat on ball, of the flowing movement of the body continuing through the arms and wrists and on through the bat and into the ball as if it were all one. When Hildreth played like that there was no separation of player, bat and ball, they operated in unison as if they were a single entity. The science and artistry of a cricketing Leonardo. Hyperbole? Not if the gasps and opened mouthed wonder in evidence in the stands were anything to go by when he was at his best.  

And of those centuries away from home, two stick in the forefront of the memory:

September 7th, 2012. Somerset were driving for the Championship runners-up spot. I was sitting at the Sea End at Hove near the main entrance when one of those 20 centuries away from Taunton was scored. Somerset had trailed by 77 on first innings. When Sussex were bowled out for 308 in their second innings after Alfonso Thomas, in one of his force-of-nature moments, and aided by a run out, had reduced them from 230 for 2 to 254 for 7, Somerset needed 396 to win. Trescothick and Arul Suppiah got Somerset underway with an opening partnership which had reached 147 in the 44th over just before the close of the third day. Then, helped by three wickets in three overs from Steve Magoffin, Sussex reduced Somerset to 155 for 4 at the close. That left Hildreth and Alex Barrow at the wicket with only Peter Trego to come before a four-man tail and Somerset still 242 runs short of an unlikely victory.

It should be recorded that Sussex, against the expectations of every Somerset supporter I spoke to, offered free entry to all for the final day. Taking advantage of that largesse, I witnessed another of the great days of Somerset cricket. The Sussex bowlers put Somerset under real pressure but Hildreth and Barrow, in one of his most valuable innings for Somerset, battled through almost to lunch with the tension and hope in every watching Somerset heart rising in tandem as the overs were survived and the total rose. Then Barrow, who had matched Hildreth run for run, fell for 40 to the first over with the new ball.

My seat was among a group of confident Sussex supporters, for 396, would be, by 88 runs, the highest score of the match, and the fall of Barrow, with still 165 runs needed, would expose, if one more wicket could be taken, the Somerset lower order. But Hildreth was set, as determined as he looked relaxed, and purveying a measured supply of strokes played with the exquisite timing and precision typical of his best form. In a sense though, this afternoon belonged to Peter Trego from whose bat the ball flew. Through the air for the most part, and mainly through the on side, so the memory says, spreading rising hope and clawing anxiety among Somerset supporters, and no doubt Sussex ones too, but it became apparent as the afternoon wore on that the airborne boundaries were flying through the gaps and that a match that had started the day as a defeat waiting to happen for Somerset was turning into another Somerset cricketing miracle.

And yet, Trego’s pyrotechnics notwithstanding, without Hildreth’s calm negotiation of the morning and resistance to Magoffin and the new ball, the afternoon might not have been reached. And once it had, as Trego charged forth, Hildreth gave Sussex no respite at the other end with neatly directed drives and sweeps as he mercilessly dispatched the Sussex bowlers, primarily along the ground, into and through the gaps. The pair added 166 runs in 25 coruscating overs of glorious Somerset batting, Hildreth’s contribution of 65 in those 25 overs only paling slightly in the face of Trego’s 89. He reached 101 in over three and a half hours of intense concentration before Trego applied the, now inevitable, coup de grace, a dismissive, ferocious boundary and Somerset’s still second-highest successful run chase had taken its place in the register of Somerset cricketing miracles. Somerset supporters dotted around the ground rose to their feet and applauded Hildreth and Trego off before a small group of us gathered just inside the main entrance to applaud the team coach out of the ground. It had been that type of performance, Made possible by Thomas’s burst, prepared by Trescothick and Suppiah, anchored by Hildreth and driven home by Trego. Glorious.

April 21^st, 2012. Another exceptional away performance is still firmly engraved on the pages of the memory. It did not lead to a famous victory, but it might have done had it not been for the intervention of Jupiter Pluvius and one of first-class cricket’s perennial thorns in the side of Somerset cricket, Chris Read of Nottinghamshire. Read came to the wicket with Nottinghamshire’s first innings at 20 for 4. They extended their innings to 162 with Read contributing 104 not out. For Somerset, Trego was again to the fore with five wickets.

When Somerset replied, Hildreth came to the wicket with the score on 228 for 2 after 76 overs, three runs an over. Nick Compton, who had come in at 12 for 1, was approaching a carefully compiled century. Whether under instruction, the equivalent of a day had already been lost to the weather, or because this was a day on which genius visited, or both, Hildreth transformed the Somerset innings. A quiet start suddenly exploded into a panoply of those exotically played, neatly placed, and magically devastating strokes. Strokes which would leave opposition fielders floundering in the wake of a ball which seemed to defy Newton’s laws as it left a bat wielded with the perfection off movement displayed in a Degas painting painted at the peak of the artist’s powers. This was Hildreth at the top of his game.

At the other end, like a man inspired, Compton responded. Suddenly his methodically crafted innings exploded into a display of cricketing meteors as fiercely struck balls crashed into and, on three occasions, over the boundary. The Compton stroke that sticks in the mind a decade on is that aerial pull of his which flew in front of midwicket, struck with the force of thunder and brooking no argument as it reached the boundary. Compton’s perfectly directed raw power and Hildreth’s heavenly driving and cutting is how the memory recorded the partnership. Before that partnership Somerset had made 228 at three an over. During it, 217 were added at six an over. Somerset declared on 445 for 2, Hildreth on 102 and Compton on 204. But the weather, and perhaps Read, had the final say. Somerset reduced Nottinghamshire to 109 for 4 on the final morning, still 174 behind, but Read and James Taylor then resisted for an hour before the rains came and washed out the second half of the day. The match was gone, but the memory of that partnership remains.

James Hildreth will primarily be remembered for his County Championship performances, but his performances against the white ball were more effective than is sometimes recognised. Two in particular spring to mind:

June 22nd, 2012. Glamorgan came to Taunton for a T20 match and ran into another innings of sheer genius. Glamorgan posted 178 for 5 in their 20 overs. In response Somerset found themselves 24 for 3 in the fifth over. I was sitting in the front row of the old Cow Shed as Compton, third out, walked off to a mood of gloom. Hildreth emerged from the Caddick Pavilion to some more than polite, but less than hopeful, applause, for big-hitting T20 was not seen as his game in those days. But soon applause and cheers were echoing around the ground as he played one of the all-time great Somerset T20 innings.

There was no heavy bat swinging through or across the line to send the ball into the sixth row of the stands. This was Hildreth, the batting genius, using his bat with the lightness of touch of an artist’s brush, shaping itself to transmit unseen power into the ball and send it unerringly to the boundary or wide enough of the fielder for singles and twos to be run at lightning speed. The image is of the ball scorching across the grass with fielders in forlorn pursuit or having given up the chase before it began. Or of the Glamorgan captain, Jim Allenby, desperately moving players to plug gaps only for Hildreth to play the ball through the gap created by the moving of the fielder, or through a gap that did not seem to be there. It was as if he were a puppeteer directing the movement of the field to suit his purpose and then turning into a magician to use his bat to steer the ball through rather than over the kaleidoscope of gaps which constantly appeared and reappeared as Allenby fought to contain the cavalcade of runs. I had not seen its like before, I have not seen it since, and I do not expect to see it again. Of itself, it was sublime. Being so unexpected in a T20 match, it seemed miraculous.

In comparison with such an innings the result and bald statistics of the match seem almost superfluous. But, for the record, Somerset won the match by four wickets with a ball to spare, although by then the result hardly seemed in doubt. Hildreth scored 107 not out from 60 balls made from 158 runs scored whilst he was at the wicket. Somerset’s next highest scorer was Jos Buttler with 22 from 20 balls.

May 5th, 2017. I travelled to Sophia Gardens, Cardiff for a Royal London One-Day Cup 50-over match. From the Pavilion seating, I witnessed another classic Hildreth white ball innings. On this occasion his was not the main contribution, but it summed up his contributions at their best and most exhilarating. Somerset batted first and Allenby, now with Somerset, opened the innings and was still at the wicket when Hildreth came down the Pavilion steps 43 overs later. I will let an extract from the report I wrote at the time take up the story:

“At the fall of Elgar’s wicket in the 43rd over Hildreth strode down the Pavilion steps with a look on his face which suggested he was either maddened by the short amount of time that Allenby and Elgar had left him, or that he was determined to use the impressive edifice they had constructed as a base from which to build something far more intimidating. He stretched immediately to his first ball for a hard-driven four which gave notice that Somerset’s infantry-like accumulation was over and the cavalry were about to be unleashed.

And so they were. From the position of security that Elgar and Allenby had painstakingly built, Hildreth sallied forth with drives, pulls, cuts, glances, chips and strokes without name in whatever direction the fancy took him. Glamorgan fielders fled in every direction in a forlorn attempt to halt the carnage. Allenby took Hildreth’s lead and brought in the heavy artillery. He hit four sixes to add to the two with which he had punctuated his long vigil with Elgar, and Hildreth added two more for good measure.

At the fall of Elgar’s wicket Somerset had scored 229 for 3 at 5.3 an over. After it, Hildreth and Allenby routed Glamorgan with 109 in 7.3 overs or 14.8 an over, 85 of which came off the last five. Hildreth hit 58 from 28 balls. Allenby finished on 144 from 146. This was good clean hitting and they never looked in danger except when Allenby was dropped in the deep just before the end. Dropped perhaps as a result of the nerve-numbing pummelling Glamorgan had taken. There was no hint of slogging. Many of Hildreth’s strokes were unorthodox, if orthodoxy remains a valid concept in one-day batting, but they were all deliberately executed and directed either to where the fielders were not or where a well taken run could be gathered. In the 7.3 overs of the partnership there were seven dot balls.

It was a magnificent onslaught that left Somerset hearts racing and Glamorgan ones barely beating. 338 for 3 was a devastating total to have to face on that wicket with morale that must have been broken by the unremitting professionalism and dominance of a merciless Somerset side.”     

And so it was, for Glamorgan were beaten by 170 runs after being bowled out inside 37 overs. For the record, Dean Elgar made 96 in a third wicket partnership, with Allenby, of 187 runs. But it was Hildreth’s 26-ball fifty which left no doubt about the outcome of the match.

On days such as these when the spirit of genius visited James Hildreth, or the Somerset steel was on display, those who were fortunate enough to be in the ground understood the full meaning of Wordsworth’s words, “Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive.”

There was of course the innings which steered Somerset home on the 2019 Royal London One-Day Cup Final. Unfortunately, it does not qualify for this article because I could not attend. The ECB, in their infinite wisdom, chose for the final, the day of my son’s long-planned wedding …

And finally, an innings which cannot be left out of any review of James Hildreth’s career:

April 17^th and 18^th, 2009. I sat for two days on a bench in the front row of the newly constructed Gimblett’s Hill. While I was there Hildreth became only the fourth Somerset player to score a triple century. None has achieved it since. It was in the days when Taunton pitches oozed runs and this match was a veritable run fest. Somerset declared their first innings on 672 for 4 in reply to a Warwickshire score of 500 all out and managed to take only a single Warwickshire wicket for 108 in the second innings. If there was to be a triple century, this was a pitch designed for it. And if there was a player on show who could produce strokes of a quality to hold the attention for the seven and a half hours it took, it was James Hildreth. Marcus Trescothick too, but he had long gone for 52.

Again, with an innings of that magnitude at this distance in time, the detail is lost in the overall impression left on the memory. The innings spanned most of the third and part of the fourth day. Drives caressed through the off and sweeps, classical and reverse, neatly placed, and accelerating on the fourth morning are what the memory has chosen to recall. In an unbroken fifth wicket partnership of 318 in four and a quarter hours, Hildreth and Craig Kieswetter matched each other stroke for stroke as Hildreth reached 303 and Kieswetter 150, his maiden first-class century, within minutes of each other before the declaration came. A triple century on a pitch which might have been made for the purpose perhaps, but there would have been many such pitches in Somerset’s 130-year County Championship history, but still only four players have reached the landmark. It was, by any measure, an outstanding innings. Perhaps on that pitch it might have been achieved without the intervention of genius, but discipline and steel there must have been to bat for seven and a half hours and score over 300 runs.

And finally, a word about Hildreth’s slip fielding. There was little that caught the eye about it. The enduring image of Hildreth in the field is of an inobtrusive character standing at first slip for over after over, at least when the pace bowlers were bowling. Not as enduring though, as that of the ball flying off the outside edge and disappearing, as if it were a bird returning to its nest, into Hildreth’s waiting hands. The ball safely held, the exuberance came from the rest of the field as they engulfed the smiling figure with the ball. Even where the catch was not straightforward, there was little reaction from the catcher however far he had dived and in whatever direction. In short, there was nothing eye-catchingly remarkable about Hildreth’s slip fielding apart from its virtually perpetual reliability. And on the rare occasion when a ball did go to ground the most surprised look in the ground usually belonged to the man at first slip. A steely genius with the bat. A cool-eyed ball trap in the slips. Oh, Somerset what a jewel of a cricketer we had.

The genius and the steel in numbers:

18,000 first-class runs at an average of 41.00, of which 17,237 were scored for Somerset at 40.46. 47 first-class centuries, of which 45 were scored for Somerset. 250 catches in first-class matches of which 238 were in Somerset colours.

6.100 List A runs at an average of 35.46, of which all but four were scored for Somerset. 8 List A centuries, all scored for Somerset. 81 catches in List A matches of which 80 were in Somerset colours.

3,906 T20 runs at an average of 24.56. All were scored for Somerset. 1 T20 century and 17 T20 fifties, all for Somerset. 73 catches in T20 matches, all for Somerset.

For Somerset, James Hildreth appeared in:

277 first-class matches. 222 List A matches 206 T20 matches

A total of 705 Somerset appearances across 20 seasons.

In addition he appeared in 8 first-class matches for the England Lions and one for the MCC, and 1 List A match for the Somerset Cricket Board.

With the nature and structure of cricket changing at pace, such a two-decade, single-team domestic career may never be seen again.

Statistics and scores contained in this article have been produced or verified by reference to the CricketArchive.