The Cricket Media Club was deeply saddened to hear of the passing of Paul Hiscock, who was for many years a regular in the Chelmsford press box.
He died peacefully at home on Sunday morning after a long illness. He was 79. Paul had been covering Essex since the mid-1990s, most of the time alongside his great friend and mentor Nigel Fuller, who passed away last year.
Paul supplied copy to all the local papers, PA and the nationals when required, and was the first Essex correspondent for the Reporters Network. He was the club reporter for many years, travelling to away games and staying with the players. During the winter, he covered Leyton Orient, latterly for PA. He seemed to be making progress from his illness that struck almost a year ago and was planning to make his first visit to Chelmsford for Essex’s fixture against Nottinghamshire.
In a statement on the Essex Cricket website, chief executive Dan Feist said: “Paul was a hugely respected journalist and a cherished member of the Essex Cricket family.
“His passion for the Club was evident to everyone who knew him. He dedicated much of his life to documenting the story of Essex Cricket with remarkable knowledge, integrity and warmth.
“Paul was a familiar face to players, staff, Members and supporters alike, and his presence around Chelmsford will be deeply missed.
“On behalf of everyone at Essex Cricket, I would like to extend our heartfelt condolences to Paul’s wife, June, his family, friends and colleagues at this difficult time. His contribution to Essex Cricket will not be forgotten.”
In memory of Paul, the Essex flag will fly at half-mast for all four days of the Nottinghamshire match, and a minute of applause will be held before the start of play on the first day.
Martin Smith, Dick Davies and Andy Wilson have shared their own tributes and memories Paul’s life and career in cricket.
By Martin Smith
On a normal day it could take Paul half an hour to walk the 100 or so yards from the car park at Chelmsford to the press box; on others, he might only just make it to his designated desk in time for the first ball of the day.
Paul knew everyone and everyone knew Paul and they all wanted a moment of his time as they lined his route. And whether it was to exchange news or views about the weather or state of play, or to indulge in some political intrigue, he was happy to be waylaid. He would then arrive in the box with a conspiratorial ‘I know something you don’t’ smile and we’d spend the rest of the day trying subtly to winkle the information out of him.
He was planning his first visit to the ground later this week, almost exactly a year since illness struck; he would not have seen much cricket, though, as there would have been a battalion of well-wishes wanting a word or two.
Once settled in his seat, bag emptied, packed lunch in the fridge, Leyton Orient mug ready for the first cup of tea, he would launch into interrogations of the match referee – if the adjoining door was left open – or any of the long line of visitors, who included over the years the likes of Robin Hobbs, KWR Fletcher, Graham Saville, GG Arnold, Graham Cowdrey, Tony Pigott, Geoff Smith and former club chairman Nigel Hillyard. They would inevitably be asked to name their favourite ground, fiercest opponent, best spin bowler faced or best batsmen. The answers would be noted and might – if permission was granted – be used in whatever article he was writing.
Paul was a late entrant into the world of journalism. He was deep into his forties in the mid-1990s when he made the change of direction. He was mentored by the doyen that was Nigel Fuller and the pair established a formidable partnership in the press box, one which was not for the faint-hearted or shrinking violets.
On one occasion, the ‘Waldorf and Statler’ of Chelmsford were behind Kate Laven – then reporting for The Daily Telegraph – in the lunch queue. Kate was dithering over what she was going to order when Nigel piped up: “Come on, Kate, we haven’t got all day. Some of us have got work to do.” Kate spun on her heels and reprimanded: “You are the rudest man in cricket.” Then, spotting Paul behind him, added: “And you are the second.” Paul’s protest that he had not so much as raised an eyebrow fell on deaf ears. The duo wore the admonition as a badge of honour and were happy to tell the tale against themselves.
Together Nigel and Paul serviced the local newspapers, the Press Association and, occasionally, the nationals with daily reports. Paul took over as long-time Essex correspondent for Wisden in the Noughties and later filed for the ECB Reporters Network, until he felt it would conflict with his position as the club’s in-house reporter. That role took him all over the country, often accompanied by his supportive and stoic wife June, and staying cheek-by-jowl with the players in their hotels in the days when close relations were still allowed.
He became a well-recognised and welcome presence in press boxes up and down the Championship, particularly at Lord’s and the Oval – or the Hovel as he called it; Hampshire’s home was known as the Aggy-arse. His introduction to the notoriously insular Derby press box of yesteryear was regularly recalled in one of many well-thumbed anecdotes. Sitting alone at the back he mumbled something to himself about so-and-so just reaching the third half-century of the season or some-such. “What was that?” came a voice from the stalls. He repeated it, the stat was duly noted, followed by an invitation to join the assembled congregation in the front pew. He never left it.
Paul and June were very kind and supportive when I suffered my own health issues a few years back. It was therefore not hard to reciprocate when illness laid Paul low. Our last telephone conversation was only a few days ago and he was still the same old Paul, lapping up the gossip and swapping opinions on who was playing well and who wasn’t. “What’s happened to Pepper?” I didn’t expect it to be the last of many pertinent observations.
By Dick Davies
Paul and I both began our many years of covering Essex cricket in the mid-1990s, he from the press box at Chelmsford and I from the very much smaller BBC commentary box next door. Whenever I’ve not actually been broadcasting on air, because of the rather claustrophobic nature of the commentary box I’ve always tended either to go for a walk round the ground or, more likely, to venture into the press box for a cup of tea and to soak up the convivial atmosphere to be found there.
Some press boxes can tend to be a little daunting but Paul made sure that at Chelmsford, any newcomer could always be assured of a friendly welcome and an invitation to have a cup of tea or coffee. His enthusiasm and commitment to Essex cricket was unfailing and unquenchable. However, although he took his job very seriously, he never took himself too seriously and he was invariably jovial and cheerful company. He also had a great sense of perspective and was realistic about the relevance of sport, particularly cricket, in the real world beyond.
Paul had an infectious sense of humour and was always fun to be with. Up until a few years ago, we would occasionally travel together to or from Essex’s away matches and, however long and tedious the journey, having him beside me with his entertaining chat and reminisces invariably made the trip seem much shorter and always much more enjoyable.
To undertake the journey back from a Sunday afternoon T20 match at Richmond eleven years ago, I decided that, at that time of the week, it would be just as quick to drive right through the centre of London rather than round it via the north or south circular – how wrong I was! Not only was it 25 miles of nose-to-tail traffic but such was my navigation that we went along a bus lane for a mile or more near Piccadilly and down a one-way street in the wrong direction at Trafalgar Square.
When I eventually dropped Paul off at his house deep into the evening, I realised that he could have been home at least an hour beforehand and far more safely had he used public transport but he uttered not a word of criticism and merely said “Thanks for the lift, Dick – it’s been most interesting!”
Although he was never an official member of the BBC Essex cricket commentary team, he was always willing to step in for an occasional session to help us out when we were short. When I was meant to be commentating on a match at Lord’s at the very start of the 2023 season, I arrived with a very sore throat and Paul offered to stand in up until the lunch break. However, by then I’d lost my voice completely, something of a drawback for a commentator, and he finished up doing the whole day, again without even a murmur of complaint and he refused to accept any form of recompense.
Paul contributed to the Essex County Cricket Club yearbook for 28 consecutive seasons and, for 25 of those, he contributed a comprehensive review of the previous season comprising up to 10,000 words: each of these reviews was a magnum opus and they have become a permanent and tangible legacy of his literary skills. For decades to come, these will serve as a treasure-chest of information and the definitive record of Essex cricket in the first quarter of the 21st century.
I hope his other legacy proves to be that, at Chelmsford, the press box is a warm and welcoming place in which to work.
By Andy Wilson
I enjoyed reading the Essex tributes to Paul, and echo all the comments about what great company he was, and also his contribution to the Reporters Network. I thought members of a certain age might appreciate my favourite Hiscock tale, which was told in the incongruous surroundings of the Knowsley Road press room. Paul and Matty, his son, were St Helens supporters, for reasons I never really understood, and came to the odd Friday night game when Essex were playing in Lancashire.
The story relates to football – I think it may have been a Southend or Millwall midweek game which he was covering for the Sun.
From vague memory, his order had started at 200 words, and at the end of a first half which had included several goals and at least one controversial sending-off, it was halved to 100.
True pro as he was, Paul did his best to squeeze it all in, then made one last call to the desk to ask for more space.
“Sorry, no,” he was told. “Have you got any quotes?”