Simon Hughes meets John Paul Getty
It is reassuring to know that not every multi-multi-millionaire wants to pump money into football
Simon Hughes
18-Mar-2008
It is reassuring to know that not every multi-multi-millionaire
wants to pump money into football. "The fact that football's in
your face all the time irritates me desperately," said John Paul
Getty - the man who has pledged more than £10 million to cricket
- reclining in his St James's apartment this week. "I just can't
watch football, unless England are playing in the World Cup, of
course."
He peered at the shuttered window offering a stupendous view of
Green Park. "D'you know, I've lived here for 10 years," he added
wistfully, "and I've never seen anyone playing cricket down
there. Football yes, even baseball, never cricket. It saddens me
deeply that cricket isn't played in parks and schools like it
used to be."
Sir John Paul Getty, to use his proper title, is an intensely
private man who doesn't normally like talking about himself, but
he was in a particularly happy mood last Tuesday. "A lovely thing
happened to me the other day. I got an invitation to the England
dressing-room at Lord's. I sat on the balcony during the one-day
match against Sri Lanka, what a privilege, and then afterwards
David Lloyd made a little speech and presented me with an England
blazer and cap. I could hardly speak I was so thrilled."
He sounded more like an excited little boy than Britain's
greatest philanthropist, a man who gives away the interest he
accumulates on his assets (about £8,000 an hour) almost as fast
as he earns it.
He paused to phone the butler. "Michael, would you bring up my
cap and blazer." There they were, on a Sketchley hanger. He put
the cap on. "I had to get it enlarged actually, but the blazer
fits perfectly." Will he ever wear them? "Oh no, not in public.
They're for people who've played for England. I might put them on
at home when I'm watching England on TV."
It is fairly common knowledge that Mick Jagger introduced Getty
to cricket. They had been friends since the Sixties and both
lived in Cheyne Walk, Chelsea in 1976 when Getty was a virtual
recluse, recovering from heroin and alcohol addiction. "Mick used
to come by the house every day and if the cricket was on he'd
want to watch it. I was curious as to how it differed from
baseball and I was intrigued by its 360-degree possibilities and
its endless variety."
He was soon hooked. He remembers Jagger phoning Tony Greig, then
captaining England in India, from his house and passing him the
phone. To commemorate finding a new passion, he bought his first
Wisden in 1977. Now he owns a complete set - neatly arranged in
his drawing room - and the company to boot. He attends Test
matches in England and the Caribbean whenever possible, bequeaths
huge sums to the major venues (including £3 million for the
construction of the Mound Stand at Lord's) and now entertains
club, county and international sides at his idyllic ground in the
Chilterns.
He is indebted to cricket for his re-emergence into society. "I
came upon cricket at a time when I was deeply depressed and it
had a lot to do with bringing me out of that state," he said
quietly. "If I can do anything to repay that debt, I will. Cricketers are wonderful people, a breed apart."
His drawing room is festooned with classical cricket paintings
and other memorabilia in keeping with his Corinthian image of the
game. If he were born again, he said, he would like to have been
either one of his great friends Denis Compton or Keith Miller,
both of whom he has watched endlessly on video. "They seemed to
have such joy playing, they were happy to get out if they weren't
enjoying themselves or helping the team. I'm an immense admirer
of the way the Sri Lankans play, too."
He is due to satisfy a lingering cricketing ambition this winter.
"I've never been to Australia and I'm hoping to go to the
Adelaide Test and meet Don Bradman -provided Victoria [his wife]
agrees. Now that would be the greatest thrill of all."
Whether at Getty's Wormsley country seat or on a bumpy wicket at
Hinkley Bottom food plays an integral part in the English game
and there is now a recipe book celebrating cricket teas. Cream
Cakes and Boundaries, compiled by Charmaine Hutton, wife of
Richard, contains all manner of succulent morsels, including
Richard Benaud's Outback Pie -"a close relative of Shepherd's
Pie", says Richie - and Weetabix Loaf, which "keeps well if the
cricket match is cancelled".
Perhaps the most intriguing dish is Brill Bread Pudding, a
compacted mixture of stale bread, dried fruit and suet. "This
recipe has the advantage of slowing down visiting fast bowlers
and reducing the number of quick singles their opening batsmen
can take." D Lloyd take note.