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‘It would amaze me if Dexter, even though in overall charge as Chairman of Selectors, ever selected a player off his own bat for England during his period in charge.’

There is no doubt in my mind that Gooch’s decision to leave Gower out of the 1993 winter tour to India and Sri Lanka was the biggest mistake of his career as England captain.

Since Gower’s return to the national side for that fourth Test against Pakistan at Old Trafford he had proved what England had been forced to miss for a year and a half due to Gooch’s intransigence. Now Gooch added the final insult. The junking of Gower and the way it was done were an absolute disgrace.

Perhaps the worst aspect of the whole affair was how Gower first heard of his fate, not via a phone call from Gooch, the new coach Fletcher, or indeed the Chairman of Selectors Dexter. He read it in a newspaper.

The final Test had been completed on 9 August. The squads for the winter tours were not due to be announced until 7 September. Although the selectors, who by this time comprised Dexter as chairman, Fletcher as coach, and Gooch, did not finalise their plans until 4 September, the day before the NatWest Final between Leicestershire and Northamptonshire at Lord’s, it was clear that Gooch had made his mind up some time in advance. He owed it to Gower to let him know, for he must have understood how his longtime team-mate and sometime friend would be devastated by the news.

Most observers were convinced that Gower would be selected. There was no reason to think otherwise. But as the date for the announcement of the squads approached a rumour started to develop that Gower’s place was not as secure as it might have been. What is more those rumours also suggested that his place in the squad would be taken by, of all people, Mike Gatting.

At first this was dismissed as absurd. But on Sunday 6 September, the day after the NatWest Final, the Mail on Sunday ran a story stating categorically that Gower would not be going to India. Gower read it, held his breath, and hoped the story was wrong. He also waited for a phone call from Gooch or one of the other selectors to clarify the situation.

The call finally came on the following day, Monday 7 September. Sadly for Gower, it confirmed his worst fears. Not surprisingly, Gower went ballistic. And so did the national press. At a press conference to announce the squad, question after question was fired at Fletcher and Dexter and no sensible answer was forthcoming over Gower’s omission. Fletcher tried to fob off the press with some excuse along the lines that Gower’s inclusion alongside that of Gooch himself and Gatting would have meant too many batsmen in the squad in their mid-thirties. This inflamed the public opinion even more.

Gatting, who had signed up for the rebel tourists in 1989, had only recently become available for England again, having had his ban cut in half after South Africa’s re-entry to the Test arena had encouraged a mood of reconciliation. What infuriated many was that Gower, who had refused any inducements to take the krugerrand and run during 1989 and had stayed loyal to England, was being ditched, while Gatting who had so obviously failed to put England first was being welcomed back with open arms to take Gower’s place. Furthermore Gooch had also made room for John Emburey, his oldest and closest friend in the game who, as a member of Geoff Boycott’s original rebel party in 1982, was the only cricketer to sign up for two rebel tours to South Africa.

Critics of the decision also highlighted Gooch’s record in this respect. Between 1978–79 and 1986–87 Gower had gone on nine successive winter tours. The following year he asked for a break, understandably. And since that time he had made no conditions on his availability for England. As Matthew Engel, editor of Wisden commented, ‘The contrast with Gooch – his decision to go to South Africa in 1981–82, his refusal, for family reasons, to tour Australia in 1986–87, his need to have Donald Carr fly out to Antigua in 1986 to persuade him to stay because some politician had criticised him, the fact that he planned to skip the abandoned India tour of 1988–89 until he was offered the captaincy, even his insistence on not going to Sri Lanka [Gooch had said in advance that although he was happy to captain in India, he would not do so in Sri Lanka] – is very stark.’ Gooch, Fletcher and Dexter might have gained a modicum of credit during the episode if only they had come up with a straight answer to the straight question: Why? They failed to do so.

I believe they were embarrassed by the decision because they had no logical or reasonable grounds to make it. And the harder they were pressed, the clearer their only option became. It was to shut up and hope that the noise and fuss would die down. It never did, and for that we must thank a group of dissident members of the MCC. Led by a gentleman named Dennis Oliver, and against the strong opposition of the MCC committee, these MCC ‘rebels’ proposed a vote of no confidence in the England Test selectors over the omission of Gower, Jack Russell and Ian Salisbury. When the members met, the rebels won by 715 to 412 votes on site. However, the postal vote went in favour of the selectors by 6,135 votes to 4,600. Never mind their defeat, the rebels had made their point.

By the end of the winter tour, which turned out to be an unmitigated disaster from England’s and Gooch’s point of view, the decision to omit Gower looked a sick joke. England became the first team ever to lose all their matches in a Test series in India, going down 3–0, each time by a huge margin. Then they lost to Sri Lanka in a Test match for the first time. And the anger that the MCC rebels had so eloquently displayed grew nationwide.

Gooch’s first error of judgement, in my opinion, was to carry on as captain at the end of that summer series against Pakistan. I believe he was reluctant to tour India at all, and this should have been the moment when he called it a day as captain. Instead, the ten-wicket defeat by Pakistan at the final Test at The Oval began a sequence of seven defeats against four different countries which ran up to and included the Lord’s Test against Australia in 1993 which was lost by an innings and 62 runs.

I believe Gooch would have gone, in fact, had Micky Stewart’s replacement as England coach been anyone other than Keith Fletcher, Gooch’s friend and mentor at Essex.

During that summer of 1992 Gooch had made various noises along the lines that he did not fancy touring the subcontinent in 1993, and although his annual procrastinations about touring were legendary, this time it appeared he was serious. Clearly, if he did not tour India in 1992–93, that would be the end of his captaincy. Fletcher had taken some prising away from his county job at Essex, and had negotiated a five-year contract with the Test and County Cricket Board executive committee, the length of which stunned and angered the county chairmen when they became aware of it later on.

Fletcher wanted Gooch alongside him for his first tour abroad as coach and persuaded him to change his mind.

Gooch later admitted that his decision to go was a grave error. On the day the England party arrived in India, it was announced that his marriage to his wife Brenda was over, which set the tone for his trip. On top of the criticism he was receiving back home over Gower’s omission, he was never at ease with himself or physically well, and he batted badly.

Dexter, whose hold over affairs had become increasingly tenuous, did not help much either. After England lost the first Test of that series against India in Calcutta, strangely electing to play only one spinner in an otherwise all-seam attack on a spinner’s wicket, Dexter announced that as a result of the continuing poor health of some of the England players, a study into air pollution levels in Indian cities had been commissioned. To this day we still await the results of that study.

And the offer of what was construed as a feeble excuse for dreadful performances produced predictable results in the national newspapers, one of whom suggested that, in future, any player fortunate enough to be selected for India should acclimatise by revving a car engine in a locked garage.

After the smog, came the prawn. According to Wisden, in the second Test match at Madras, ‘England were well beaten by eleven men and a plate of prawns as India won the match – and with it the series – by an innings and 22 runs. The night before the match Gooch and Gatting had eaten in the Chinese restaurant at the team’s hotel; their meal included an extra plate of prawns. Shortly before the start of play Gooch, complaining of sickness and dizziness, was forced to withdraw from the game. Later, after acting captain Stewart had lost the toss, Gatting and Smith, who had apparently eaten chicken in his room, both left the field feeling ill. There followed considerable debate as to whether the players had ignored the advice they were given about diet.’

And after defeat there, England became the first side to lose every game of a Test series in India when they went down by an innings and 15 runs in Bombay. By the time England, minus Gooch, had moved on to Sri Lanka, lost the Test match and two one-day internationals there, Dexter had turned his attention to the question of facial hair.

It would be hypocritical of me to join in the criticism of how the players looked on that tour. Sure, it is important for the team to look good on the field, but when it comes to stubble, no one could accuse me of attempting to boost the sales of razor blades.

But by now it was open season for the England team and management. And when a photograph of Bob Bennett, the tour manager, attending a press conference wearing a T-shirt and ill-fitting shorts appeared in the national papers back home, the latest in a long run of unflattering images, it only served to fuel the fire of those who had been so outraged at the original selection for the tour.

Criticism within and without the game had reached such a pitch that on 10 March 1993 while England were going down to their second defeat to Sri Lanka in a limited-over international, and the TCCB was meeting at Lord’s to discuss the England team’s failure, there was widespread speculation that Dexter would be forced to resign.

While the nation waited for an explanation for England’s poor showing, Dexter once again got the mood all wrong. He had declined to give any explanation for Gower’s original omission, and stuck to that line throughout; nobody had been fooled by his attempt to introduce the Calcutta smog into the list of reasons why England failed in the first Test, and now he encouraged his critics to pile in once again with his comments over Gooch’s beard.

‘There is a modern fashion for designer stubble,’ Dexter was quoted as saying, ‘and some people believe it to be very attractive. But it is aggravating to others and we will be looking at the whole question of people’s facial hair.’

He might have said that they would be looking at the whole question of why England had been thrashed 3–0 by India.

There is no doubt that England’s cricketers wilted in the face of the Indian experience. As Wisden reported, ‘In the bar at the team’s hotel on New Year’s Eve, one of the less experienced members of the party was in such distress that he was already longing for home a mere four days into the tour. The communal violence in the wake of the destruction of the temple at Ayodhya had resulted in hundreds of deaths all over India and created an unsettled atmosphere among the squad. Their fears were heightened when the first international match, due to be played in Ahmedabad, was cancelled because the safety of the players could not be guaranteed. As a result of this and crowd disturbances at games that did take place, some of the party simply gave up trying to come to terms with a country that, at the best of times, can be quite overwhelming.’ True, the schedule of matches and the constant travelling demanded was hardly conducive to allowing the players to concentrate on their cricket first and foremost. But without any clear leadership from Fletcher or Gooch the spirit in the squad visibly flagged. England’s players should have been mentally tough enough to deal with everything that was thrown at them, but they clearly weren’t. Gooch, who is not a great fan of touring the subcontinent at the best of times, withdrew further and further into his shell. All the time, nagging away in the back of his mind was the fact that he had been persuaded to carry on as captain for that winter tour against his better judgement. And his air of fatalism spread throughout the party.

The players had also been let down in terms of their technical preparation.

As the tour did not start until the beginning of January, England had had three full months to prepare following the end of the English domestic season. Fletcher had organised regular get-togethers at Lilleshall, but he had totally misread the conditions England would be facing and consequently organised exactly the wrong type of practice for batsmen and bowlers. India had formulated a plan in advance to get the best out of their spinners on wickets designed for them and they carried it out to perfection. The batsmen spent many hours of intensive practice facing the England spinners on artificial surfaces known as spin mats. These took spin but they were also quick and bouncy. The wickets England actually had to play on in India were dry and dusty, taking prodigious spin but with hardly any bounce or pace. Therefore when England’s batsmen lined up against Anil Kumble the leg spinner, Venkatapathy Raju the left-armer, and Rajesh Chauhan the offspinner, the batsmen were bamboozled. All the batsmen had been used to waiting until the last minute before playing the ball off the back foot, and the bowlers got into a rhythm in conditions which bore no resemblance to what they would actually encounter when they faced the real thing. Their technique was all wrong.

This wasn’t Fletcher’s only mistake. After having returned from a spying mission to Johannesburg to watch India play in South Africa, Fletcher delivered his verdict on Kumble saying, ‘He didn’t turn a single ball from leg to off. We will not have much problem with him.’

Kumble finished up taking 21 wickets in a three-match series, Raju took 16 and Chauhan 9, and the Indian spinners took 46 of the 58 England wickets to fall in the series.

It was not an auspicious start for Fletcher in his new role as coach. But as he’d only just taken up the reins, the major criticism following the end of the tour was pointed in the direction of Dexter and Gooch and on England’s return it was only a matter of time before both men had to go.

The lack of a sensible plan for the succession to the England captaincy now took its toll. Gatting’s return to the fold had created speculation that he was now in line to regain the job he had lost five years previously, while Alec Stewart, who had captained the side in Sri Lanka in Gooch’s absence was Gooch’s preferred choice and odds-on favourite, particularly as the outsider in the race, Mike Atherton, had found himself out of favour in India.

England would probably have been thoroughly beaten by Australia in the summer of 1993 anyway, for among their number was a young leg spinner who exploded into the consciousness of England batsmen during that summer and stayed there ever since. Shane Warne set the tone for the series when he produced the ‘Ball from Hell’ to Mike Gatting in that first Test at Old Trafford, a delivery which spun from way outside leg stump and clipped Gatting’s off bail. Gatt wasn’t the only one to be flabbergasted by the amount of turn that Warne had extracted from the pitch and the ball did huge psychological damage for the series ahead.

But by now Dexter and Gooch were both beginning to lose the plot. Fletcher, meanwhile, just seemed out of his depth. As the summer wore on, England’s policy, or lack of it, over Gooch’s position and the actual selection of the side, became more and more muddled. Gooch, who had gone against his instincts in agreeing to captain the side in India, was again persuaded by Dexter and Fletcher to stand as captain at the start of the Ashes series. Once he had made his decision to comply with their request, Gooch had wanted to be appointed for the whole series to send out a message of solidarity and purpose to Allan Border’s Australians.

Should things go badly he did not want speculation over his position to be constantly undermining the team’s efforts and he was not happy when Dexter made the decision to appoint him for three Tests only.

By the second Texaco trophy match at Birmingham it was clear to me that Gooch was losing his way badly. England had lost the first one-day international at Manchester by four runs, but when Robin Smith lit up Edgbaston with his extraordinary innings of 167 not out, the highest score for England in a one-day international and the fifth highest in all, enabling them to reach 277 for five in their 55 overs, Gooch was presented with an obvious opportunity to rekindle confidence and enthusiasm. Australia set about chasing their target in a reasonably sedate manner, and when Mark Waugh and Allan Border came together in a partnership which ultimately proved decisive, Gooch, as fielding captain, looked all too satisfied with a policy of containment. In fact Waugh and Border hardly played a shot in anger, as they collected slowly but surely and reached their target with ease. Ian Chappell describes Gooch’s performance that day as reminding him of a rabbit caught in headlights. England’s all-seam attack looked inadequate and their fielding became ragged. Not only did Australia win by six wickets, they overhauled England large total with two and a half overs to spare.

Gooch found some batting form in the first Test at Manchester making 65 in the first innings and 133 in the second before being given out handled the ball, but defeat there made up Gooch’s mind that as soon as the Ashes were gone he was going too. Perversely however, this was the moment when Dexter decided to accede to Gooch’s original request, and offered to appoint him for the remainder of the series.

Just prior to the second Test at Lord’s, Dexter had a meeting with Gooch and put the proposition to him. Gooch, against his better judgement, agreed, but offered this rider to Dexter: ‘I’ll do it as long as I can begin to motivate the side to be more competitive.’ What happened instead was that, after Australia had won the toss, Taylor and Michael Slater put on 260 for the first wicket. By a quarter to twelve on the third morning of the match Allan Border was able to declare at 632 for four.

England capitulated meekly, bowled out for 205 and 365 with only Mike Atherton who made 80 in the first innings and was run out for 99 in the second, producing a blameless performance, which was to stand him in good stead later when the captaincy issue was finally resolved in his favour.

The Test was lost, by an innings, before tea on the final day – before, indeed, the Queen had arrived for the traditional presentation of the teams. Gooch, who before the second Test at Lord’s had criticised his players for not showing the correct ‘mental fibre’ and had taken on the responsibility of captaining England for the remainder of the series on condition that they perform better than they had done at Old Trafford, searched his soul again and found no reason to continue. Once again, however, he was persuaded out of making that decision by Dexter and Fletcher. And it was at this point that Dexter once again demonstrated that he was clearly out of touch with the public mood. At the press conference after the match Dexter sought to introduce a note of levity into the proceedings. In the circumstances it was exactly what was not was required. The reporters wanted answers to the questions cricket supporters all over the country were asking themselves.

There was a certain amount of residual anger over the Gower saga; he was still out of the frame for selection and yet those who had been picked were proving themselves clearly not up to the job. Mike Gatting, in particular, who many saw as the villain of the piece for being selected ahead of Gower for India, had managed just 4 and 23 in the first Test at Old Trafford and five in the first innings at Lord’s. Although he made 59 in the second, some blamed him for running out Atherton when on 99, and many were now fed up with what they saw as Gooch’s obsession of keeping Gower out of the side.

Dexter’s first offering was feeble enough. When asked how much blame he himself took for all the bad selections Dexter replied, ‘How long is a piece of string?’ The mood inside the room where the press conference was held became more hostile but the longer it went on the more Dexter appeared blithely unconcerned. When asked for some serious observations about why England were underperforming Dexter responded with his idea of a joke. He said, ‘We may be in the wrong sign … Venus may be in the wrong juxtaposition with somewhere else.’

Dexter said afterwards that he had been harpooned and lampooned by the press. It seemed to me that he had given them a target that even they could not miss.

Dexter’s supporters point out, quite rightly, that their man’s heart was in the right place. He was a great batsman for England, and, on occasions an inspirational figure as captain. And he had a theory for every occasion. Some of them may have been quite unintelligible to the majority of his fellow cricketers, but many players who represented England during his tenure at the job of Chairman of Selectors had been grateful to him for a spot of technical advice from time to time. When he took over the job in 1989 he stated that everything in his life had prepared him for that moment. Certainly he saw himself as a crusader and his mission to improve the fortunes of English cricket. He was, by all accounts, tireless in his efforts to improve the game at domestic level. And it is largely down to him that the counties agreed to change from three-day championship cricket to a four-day competition. By the time Dexter set his plan in motion, playing conditions were loaded so much in favour of batsmen, what with flat batting tracks and lowseamed balls for the bowlers to use, that it was almost impossible to achieve a result in a three-day match, assuming good weather throughout, without contrivance. That is not how the game should be played, but it was certainly how the game was being played for a period during the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Ted also made a conscious decision throughout his time as chairman to put some distance between himself and the players. Often this had hilarious results. On seeing a young player he didn’t quite recognise bringing his cricket case into the England dressing room at Trent Bridge before a Test match, he paused, looked up and offered his best wishes to the player concerned for the match ahead. Unfortunately for Ted, the young cricketer in question was a member of the Nottinghamshire ground staff.

The whimsical side of his nature became graphically clear to me when on the eve of the third Test against Australia in 1989, he handed out his version of ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ to the England players and invited them to sing it in the bath at the top of their voices that evening. It read ‘Onward Gower’s cricketers, striving for a score. With our bats uplifted, We want more and more …’ You get the picture.

But this detachment had negative results. He certainly should have let Gower into his confidence over the identity of those who had signed up for the rebel tour to South Africa in 1989, and if only he had come forward with a credible reason for Gower’s omission from the winter tour party to India in 1992–93, even his sternest critics might have laid off when things went so badly wrong in the subcontinent.

Furthermore, it seemed to me that his grasp over selection had become more and more tenuous. Once it became clear that the team that had lost so narrowly in the World Cup final to Pakistan had needed to be dismantled, it was imperative that Dexter came up with a solid, consistent and forward-thinking selection policy. Instead for the next year or so, England teams were picked along the traditional lines of lottery, hunches and guesswork, characterised mainly by Gooch’s personal preference. Why else would Gatting have returned ahead of Gower for that India series, or John Emburey been included in the first place at the age of 40, or why would Neil Foster, Gooch’s county team-mate at Essex for so long, have been selected for that second Test of the Ashes series in 1993 at Lord’s?

It would amaze me if Dexter, even though in overall charge as Chairman of Selectors, ever selected a player off his own bat for England during his period in charge.

Apart from decreeing that myself and Gower should not be considered for the 1989 West Indies tour, which was a negative deselection rather than a positive selection, I got the impression that he was happy to leave everything in the hands of Gooch and Micky Stewart thereafter.

But what frustrated most observers towards the end of Dexter’s reign was that detachment had turned into aloofness, even arrogance. And that manifested itself strongly in the events that surrounded the end of Gooch’s captaincy.

The story of Gooch’s final days in charge revealed what was, to my mind, Dexter’s greatest failings, an inability to communicate, and poor man management.

Gooch had made it quite clear to Dexter and all concerned that once the Ashes were gone he would resign. Although the third Test at Trent Bridge had produced an improved performance by England, who managed a draw and might even have won had the bowlers managed to capitalise on the work of Graham Thorpe, who made an excellent debut century, and Gooch himself who made 120 in England’s second innings, when the teams moved on to Leeds it was back to the same old story. Australia won the fourth Test by an innings and 148 runs. Now was the time for Gooch to be as good as his word. But Dexter managed to make what was a difficult experience for Gooch a bitter one.

The outcome of the fourth Test at Leeds became clear from very early on. Gooch had gone into the match believing it would be played on a traditional Headingley strip whose lateral movement encouraged the English type of seam bowling. Sadly, for him at least, following bad reports from umpires Ken Palmer and Mervyn Kitchen the year before, Yorkshire, fearful that another pitch scandal would cost them their place on the Test rota, felt obliged to dig up the pitch. The new strip, laid five years previously and used for only one first-class match, was an unknown quantity. Having selected the appropriate squad for a seamers’ paradise, namely one exclusively reliant on seam, Gooch was dismayed when, having left out the off-spinner Peter Such, he lost the toss and watched while Australia built a huge 653 for four declared.

England were not helped when Martin McCague of Kent was forced to pull out of the attack on the second day with an injury later diagnosed as a stress fracture of the back. But in an innings lasting nearly fourteen hours, the Australian batsmen helped themselves. In response, England simply shrank. They made just 200 in their first innings, and although they made a better fist of things in the second, scoring 305, when the final day of the match dawned Gooch realised it was to be his last as England captain.

He telephoned Dexter, who was not present on that final day, and told him of his intention to resign that evening at the press conference after the match. Dexter then tried to persuade Gooch to delay his announcement for a day. Not because of any reasons of PR or that he felt the timing of the announcement would be detrimental. But because he was stuck on the golf course with clients. Gooch tried hard to persuade Dexter to cancel his game of golf. Dexter claimed the engagement was one he simply could not get out of. At this point Gooch, unsure of the effect of making his announcement in Dexter’s absence, telephoned his friend David Norrie, the News of the World cricket correspondent. Gooch explained the situation to Norrie, who told him that if Gooch delayed the announcement he would look ridiculous. He had made clear repeatedly that if England’s performances did not improve he would resign the moment Australia’s grip on the old urn was confirmed. That moment had arrived and Norrie told him that if Gooch left Leeds that night without having resigned, he would be hammered, and rightly so.

Gooch decided to go ahead with the announcement. In an emotional press conference he explained, ‘It is the best way forward … The team might benefit from fresh ideas, a fresh approach, someone else to look up to.’

Gooch’s departure was inevitable, as this was England’s eighth defeat in their last nine matches. But this was a sad end to his period in charge. Despite largely critical reaction to his treatment of David Gower since he took over the captaincy from him in 1989, Gooch had enjoyed success, notably by leading his team to the final of the World Cup competition in 1992. Had he obeyed his instincts, and not allowed himself to be persuaded by Keith Fletcher to captain the side in India on the following winter, Gooch could have stepped down with good grace and with a creditable record.

This way, due to the prevarication of those in charge, lack of clear thinking and direction from Dexter at the top, Gooch’s reign as captain ended in sour disappointment.

Within a fortnight, Dexter had gone as well, in similarly sad circumstances.

Just before midday on Monday 9 August 1993, the final day of the fifth Test at Edgbaston, an announcement on behalf of the Test and County Cricket Board was made by their media relations officer Ken Lawrence. He delivered a brief statement to the press and broadcasting boxes at the ground, and a few minutes later Jonathan Agnew revealed its contents on BBC Radio’s ‘Test Match Special’.

As he did so, a spontaneous outburst of applause echoed round the ground. The reaction of those listening to the commentary through earpieces told its own story. The resignation of Ted Dexter as Chairman of Selectors was greeted with almost unanimous approval. Six months before his five-year term officially ended, Dexter had decided enough was enough.

The Lord’s spin-doctors soon got to work, claiming that Dexter had intended to resign at the end of the summer anyway, but there is no doubt that he brought forward the timing of his resignation so that he could jump before he was pushed by the county chairmen.

A group of them, led by the Derbyshire chairman Chris Middleton, had become increasingly disgruntled as the summer wore on. Middleton and his supporters believed that the mess over Gower’s omission from the party to tour India, and later his increasingly bizarre public utterances had made the chairman and the Board a laughing stock. Perhaps the final nail in his coffin was the reaction to his botched announcement of Mike Atherton as Gooch’s successor as England captain.

This should have been a straightforward affair. Once Gooch had carried out his intention to resign on the final day of the Headingley Test, the England committee comprising Dexter, Ossie Wheatley, Micky Stewart, Keith Fletcher and A C Smith, took little time in deciding that of the available candidates, Atherton, Mike Gatting and Alec Stewart, the Lancashire batsman was their man.

On the Wednesday of that week a press conference was called at the Hilton Hotel opposite the Lord’s ground where the reporters were informed as to how the decision was made.

‘We were unanimous,’ said Dexter, ‘except for Dad.’

Micky Stewart, whose son Alec had been passed over, was not present at the press conference, but when he was informed of Dexter’s remarks, he went apoplectic.

The former England coach had gone to extraordinary lengths during his time in charge to outlaw the word ‘Dad’ along with the words ‘son’ and ‘nepotism’ inside and outside the England dressing room ever since Alec was first selected for England for the West Indies tour in 1989. He was, quite rightly, livid at the suggestion that his loyalty to his son might have affected his judgement over whether Alec or Atherton should be elevated to the position of England captain.

Dexter later apologised, but the damage had been done. He claimed later that this was an off the cuff, jokey remark intended to demonstrate Micky’s entirely natural loyalty to Alec. Stewart was forced to ring Atherton and explain himself. Atherton took the phone call and Stewart’s explanation in good spirit.

But once again Dexter had opened his mouth and jumped in. And, for some, this for some was the last straw.

Middleton was the instrumental figure in the removal of Dexter. For some time he had been losing patience with Dexter and had taken soundings from his fellow county chairmen. He met, spoke to or telephoned all of them for their views.

According to Middleton: ‘With the possible exception of M J K Smith of Warwickshire, the chairmen were, to a greater or lesser degree, universally hacked off with Dexter. All summer long I heard the same things: he’s out of touch and he makes too many gaffes. I had had first hand knowledge of one in particular. Quite early on in his reign as chairman, he was interviewed on a Midlands radio programme and asked where our next fast bowlers were coming from. He referred to a recent Derbyshire match, saying: “What chance do we have of producing new pace talent when a county like Derbyshire go into a match with an attack comprising a West Indian, a South African and a Dutchman?”

‘It was bad enough that he had given a new nationality to Ole Mortensen from Denmark, but Alan Warner and Simon Base were flabbergasted. The next day I went into the dressing room to discover that the players, who had read Dexter’s comments reprinted in a national newspaper, were going loopy. Our “West Indian”, Warner was born in Birmingham and our “South African” was Base from Maidstone in Kent.

‘Simon was understandably upset. He said: “What chance have I got when the Chairman of the England Selectors thinks I’m a Springbok?”

‘Whenever I spoke to one of my fellow county chairman about Dexter the main complaint was that none of them ever saw him. The general feeling was that he had no interest in county cricket whatsoever. My message to them was that instead of moaning about him we should take action and, if the general consensus was that he should go, we should get rid of him. It seemed clear that he was intending to stay on until the winter tour to West Indies. But with the normal August board meeting coming up I wrote to all the county chairmen suggesting that we had to take the opportunity to remove him there and then.’

Halfway through the Edgbaston Test, Dexter got wind of what was to happen at the Board meeting, made his excuses and left.

Atherton, who was captaining England for the first time, was not the only one who was surprised that Dexter had not informed him of his decision beforehand. Several members of the TCCB’s own executive committee only found out when they heard about it on radio or television or through increasingly frantic telephone calls.

Through their chief executive A C Smith, the Board attempted to put a rather different complexion on affairs. In their statement announcing Dexter’s resignation, they said: ‘Mr Dexter had already informed the Chairman and senior officers of the Board prior to start of the current Test series that he was not seeking re-election after March 1994. Furthermore, Mr Dexter had previously volunteered to finish in the autumn of 1993 to give a new chairman more time to settle in before the next home season. It is this suggestion that the Board has now adopted.’

In fact this was news to almost all the members of the executive committee and quite clearly neither Middleton nor the majority of his county chairmen, if any, had been let in on the secret.

Had they known earlier that Dexter was intending to stand down, it is almost certain that his critics would have allowed him to go quietly and with dignity. By keeping the lid on over his intentions, Dexter and the Board had left themselves exposed. No one should be surprised that they did, however. By now most observers had long since given up attempting to understand the mysteries of Lord Ted and Lord’s.