"Damn it, I wasn't ready for him," we heard Thorpe say in the professionals' room. Thorpe always had some excuse, but on this occasion it was justified.
C. V. Punshon was the next comer, and he got his first ball through the slips for four, but Wallis looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Punshon didn't know a lot about that," he said, and then he added, "I say, what a queer delivery the chap has. He stands and shoots 'em out. It's uncanny. He's a kind of human catapult." He made a note of the phrase on his pad.
Punshon succeeded in hitting the next ball, also, but it simply ran up his bat into the hands of short slip.
"Well, that's a sitter, if you like," said Wallis. "What's the matter with 'em?"
I was beginning to grow enthusiastic.
"Look here, Wallis," I said, "this chap's going to break records."
Wallis was still doubtful.
He was convinced before the innings was over.
There must be many who remember the startling poster that heralded the early editions of the evening papers: