'Back then, wicketkeepers never worried about scoring hundreds'
Fomer England keeper Jim Parks talks about how he took to the job, and cricket in the '30s and '40s

"It was difficult keeping wicket on uncovered pitches, especially when you stood up to medium-pacers" • ESPNcricinfo Ltd
It was Hutton's Test debut, against New Zealand. My dad was Hutton's first opening partner. Hutton got 0 and 1 and had a long and distinguished Test career. Dad outscored him, got 22 and 7, and took three wickets, but never played for England again.
It was that same year, 1937, that I started watching cricket. I was five years old and my grandmother used to take me down to the county ground at Hove, where Dad played.
Sussex's last match before the war was my dad's benefit match. Yorkshire were supposed to come down to play in the Championship, but that was called off when war broke out. Yorkshire still turned out for the benefit match, though, which was good of them.
Not really. He finished playing county cricket in 1939.
"Godfrey Evans was the absolute best keeper I ever saw. He could even stand up to Alec Bedser on a wet wicket"
Everyone always called him solid and steady. But in 1937, he changed his style. My mother had died the previous winter, and according to John Langridge, who opened the batting with him, Dad completely transformed his approach. Langridge was still playing when I started in 1949, and he told me that Dad just went out and smashed the ball everywhere. That year, he had 3000 runs and took 100 wickets with his slow-medium bowling. That record will never be broken.
He finished in 1948; I started in 1949. He was a strong player, a batsman who slogged it. Before the war, Sussex batted him in the middle order. After the war they moved him up to open with John Langridge. Lovely person, Harry. He was a flight lieutenant during the war.
I remember counting the German bombers as they flew over the south coast, towards London. Sometimes there were 150 of them. My dad was too old to join the armed forces. He was a policeman and moved up to Lancashire towards the end of the war. He played a few Lancashire league games for Accrington, as a professional. There he became good friends with Learie Constantine. Learie was working for the Ministry of Labour. He was a real flamboyant character. I never saw anybody hit the ball as hard or as far as him. After the war, Learie got me out to Trinidad to do some coaching.
For one season, while I was doing national service. Those games against the army and the navy, we had a really good team. Fred Trueman, Fred Titmus and Ray Illingworth were all in the RAF side.
I didn't want to be a wicketkeeper when I was younger. I was more interested in batting. Denis Compton was my hero. I first saw him play against Dad, who played for the combined police and fire services team during the war. Compton was in the army team. He played all the shots, improvised, ran down the pitch. On a bad wicket, his technique was perfect. When it was difficult, he straightened everything up.
Denis played the finest innings I ever saw, in 1955. It was at Lord's, and with Middlesex due to bat, he was late and still in his civvies on the balcony. But it was a wet wicket and Middlesex were two wickets down for just four runs. Denis was in at No. 4 and we had to wait ten minutes for him to get ready and get onto the field. When Middlesex were finally out for 206, Denis was the last man out for 150. On a really dodgy wicket, he smashed it. The next highest score was John Warr, who got 13. When I made my Test debut against Pakistan, Denis was in the England side.
"There we were in the Chelmsford dressing room before the start of play and we suddenly realised we've got no wicketkeeper. Robin Marlar looked at me and said, 'You're doing it'"
He was there for a year, in 1966, and then in 1967 he suffered a stroke. He got over it but was never the same again, and his career in cricket was over. Back then coaches looked after the second team and the young players. The first team looked after themselves. So I didn't see that much of him.
Back then, wicketkeepers never worried about scoring hundreds. Their work behind the stumps was more important. They'd bat down the order at nine or ten. Arthur McIntyre and Roy Swetman were wicketkeepers who might occasionally put together a score. Godfrey Evans was no mug with the bat, but he averaged only half what would be expected of today's keepers. Catch Bradman or George Headley for a low score and your team had a head start. Miss a stumping off one of these greats and you were in trouble.
It was difficult keeping wicket, especially when you stood up to medium-pacers. You would do that to keep the batsman back in their crease and maybe get the chance of a stumping. Godfrey Evans was the absolute best keeper I ever saw. He could even stand up to Alec Bedser on a wet wicket.
No one, really. It came about by accident. I didn't keep wicket at the start of my career. I was a specialist batsman. A couple of years after that, Sussex were playing against Essex in a Championship game at Chelmsford, when our wicketkeeper, Rupert Webb got injured. There we were in the Chelmsford dressing room before the start of play and we suddenly realised we've got no wicketkeeper. Robin Marlar, the Sussex captain, looked at me and said "You're doing it". I didn't have any kit and so had to borrow Essex keeper Brian Taylor's gloves.
My body was trained to run around in the outfield. I wasn't used to jumping up and down 600 times a day. After the game, I was so stiff I couldn't play for a week. It took a while to get used to wicketkeeping. After that game, I started a new exercise regime to loosen up my lower back and legs. It's nothing like they do today, though. Just a few minutes stretching before matches.