Didn’t you used to be… David Lawrence
David ‘Syd’ Lawrence almost wore gloves professionally in a wholly different sport. His dad loved cricket and boxing, and a wish to see one of his sons become world heavyweight champion leaves a fascinating ‘what if?’ in the life of a man who does nothing by halves.
Lawrence, a first generation black Briton, grew up admiring Muhammad Ali, but seeing the West Indies at The Oval in 1976 introduced him to new role models. “It was the first time I saw eleven guys on the field who looked so proud and elegant. Even though it was against England I was a neutral. I saw Michael Holding bowl, fell in love with the game and wanted to be a quick bowler.”
At thirteen his local coach considered him the fastest he’d ever seen. He signed for his native Gloucestershire aged 16 and moved to Bristol in 1981 amid troubling times. “I came to Bristol shortly after the St Paul’s riots and I was living in (nearby) Montpelier. Bristol was the bright lights to a 16/17 year-old. There were bars open through the night – highly illegal! On two occasions I got into fights and was put into the cells overnight. The club gave me an ultimatum.”
In a make-or-break move, secretary Tony Brown drove Lawrence to meet Viv Richards, “A very elegant man with the biggest swagger ever” and the experience put him on the right road, establishing a bowling partnership with Courtney Walsh for Gloucestershire, making his Test debut in 1988.
The first of numerous examples of life’s cyclicality came when Lawrence became the last bowler to dismiss Richards at Test level at The Oval in 1991. “It’s ironic – he spoke to me and it changed my life. Life has a funny way of coming round to you.”
The following tour to New Zealand brought mixed fortunes, and he was only bowling at Wellington in February 1992 due to injuries to Derek Pringle and Chris Lewis. With the Kiwis set an impossible target, it should have been mere bowling practise but for Lawrence’s natural dedication. Irrespective of Jack Russell, with whom Lawrence had bowled since aged 14, mentioning the ball was not hitting his gloves as hard as usual, Lawrence admits, “I bowled like it was my last test match.”
Famously, it proved to be. A shattered kneecap saw him collapse in agony. He was undergoing surgery within three hours ahead of years of determination to scale the heights again.
A year of rehab saw him close to resuming playing until the knee broke in the gym. In 1994 he travelled to Australia for three months. “I wanted to get away from the media glare and give it a go. I was playing in a match in Randwick against a lad of 17 who whacked it back over my head. He gave me a few words and I gave him a few but I knew I couldn’t do what I could have done three years before. It wasn’t there. I called the club to say I was retiring. I called from a payphone.”
Although invited to watch cricket, he admits to coming away from one match ‘quite tearful’ believing his career was over. The strain brought divorce.
His fortitude as sizable as his frame, he asked himself, ‘What do you want to do now, big man?’ and knowing he wanted to be his own boss he took a business course at night school, opening a bar in 1996. He called it Boom after seeing a reference to a ‘boom burger’ when researching in New York. The name also refers accurately to his laugh, which resounds heartily today.
About this time he also found work in the media, spending two years with Sky. While many would be happy to take the money, Lawrence’s self-respect troubled him. “There are only a certain amount of (media) jobs and I didn’t have an illustrious Test career and I didn’t want to be the cricketer they felt sorry for. Most in the (commentary) box – except Mark Nicholas who loves himself! – had had illustrious careers.”
Despite owning a ‘booming’ business and enjoying television exposure, he remained contender more than content. Like the boxer unable to resist the ring’s lure, Lawrence harboured dreams of one last shot. “I played a couple of club games and my knee started feeling good and it was like, ‘you know what, I want to give it a go.’ In 1996 I made a comeback for myself to prove I could do it. I didn’t want to have to look back and say if only I’d given it a go. I did it.”
The comeback eased his mind, but his playing career was over. It wasn’t long before another of his loves surfaced. Lawrence had attended Wigan Casino during the northern soul years, and living in the city which spawned Massive Attack, Tricky and Portishead, he sought to apply his passion for music commercially. By 1999 he had acquired Dojo Lounge nightclub, and for six months he owned the club and bar before selling the latter. Since then he’s also opened and sold another bar, Hush.
Today Lawrence is still staying out all night long, now legally so. His club, one of Bristol’s coolest, is busy through the week and licensed until 9.30am on a Sunday morning when he’s present through a twelve-hour shift. Although having to miss the whole of Sunday through catching up on sleep, the hours have their advantages. “I was able to listen to the Ashes!”
The man who needs irons in many fires teaches bowling at Bristol’s Colston’s School, and is keen to acquire qualifications en route to coaching becoming a major part of his life – he’s not sure he will want to be in the club game in five years’ time.
Not that the game is treating him badly. SPIN interviews him in his venue’s office and he’s at home liaising with the young staff preparing for a busy night. They know him as David. “Syd was a cricketer. Chris Broad gave me the nickname on my second day at Gloucestershire. We had three Davids in the field and all went for the ball when called.”
He deals with numerous interview interruptions with patience and politeness. A DJ is given his car keys to locate a missing needle, a wannabe DJ is given his phone number with an invitation to give him a call. Lawrence himself “Spins on the wheels of steel” and remembers a set from Soul II Soul’s Jazzy B with particular affection.
He’s been party to some extreme events. His was the name with which the hysterical Brian Johnston and Jonathan Agnew had greatest trouble when recalling the scorecard of the Ian Botham ‘leg over’ incident. He remembers breaking down in tears beside Phil Simmons’ hospital bed after a delivery had almost killed the West Indian batsman. “He had a tube coming out of his head and his girlfriend was there. Thank God he pulled through. I don’t know how Nigel Benn feels.”
One doubt remains. On June 8 he will take part in a charity boxing event involving Chris Cairns, Adam Hollioake, Jason Gallian and others, when the fists which once brought ignominy may bring glory. “I did amateur boxing training in off-seasons in (trainer) Tex Woodward’s gym. When I retired I ended up inches away from turning pro – he felt I could do it. I have no cricketing regrets, but looking around the heavyweight division I wish I’d given it a go – that’s an exclusive!”
QUICK SINGLES
PLAYED FOR England (1988-1992; five Tests, one ODI); Gloucestershire (1981-1997).
TESTS 60 runs @ 10; 18 wickets @ 37.55 (best 5/106 v West Indies 1991)
FIRST-CLASS 515 wickets @ 32.07. 1,851 runs @ 10.69. 50s: 2.
FIVE-WICKET INNINGS: 21.
TEN-WICKET MATCHES: 1.
FINEST HOUR Making his Test debut versus Sri Lanka in 1988. “Playing for your country. All your dreams as a kid imagining you were Bob Willis, Dennis Lillee or Michael Holding, all the Tests you played in the garden against your friends. It’s the ultimate to walk out at Lord’s on the hallowed ground. You’re in a select club.”
