Peter Makepeace Chadwick (19 Sep 1945 - 17 Dec 2024) was the Chairman of Southgate Cricket Club from 2002-2007 and President from 2008-2011. His first game for the club was in April 1969 against Merton Wanderers and his last in July 2004 against Southgate Compton. Southgate guru Mike Smethers describes him as a talented late-away-swing bowler who once opened his spell with five wickets without conceding a run.

His best bowling return was for the 1st XI when he bowled 8 overs 7-20 v Buckhurst Hill, and his meanest 12.3-8-15-6 for the 2nd XI v Beaconsfield II. He also participated in heroic last wicket stands, most notably in a National Knockout match against Enfield in 1972 when, chasing a 45-over 160, he came to the wicket at 133-9 to partner Graham Good. His seven runs included the winning boundary.

He will perhaps be most fondly remembered at Southgate for his establishment of the ‘A’ XI which he captained from 1982 until its demise in 1999. On the 3rd of May 2025 a celebration of Peter’s life was held at the cricket club, which was well attended by his family, cricket club members, people from IBM where he worked, and the village where he lived.

At the event Ian Henley, who worked with Peter for many years and was a regular for Southgate ‘A’ XI, paid him the following tribute.
Prussian Field Marshal Kurt von Hammerstein-Equord classified his officers into four types: the clever, the stupid, the industrious and the lazy. Lazy stupid officers, he thought, made up ninety per cent of any army and were suited to routine duties. Clever, industrious officers were placed in the General Staff. Those who were industrious and stupid should on no account to be entrusted with any responsibility, as they would cause nothing but trouble.

But clever, lazy officers, he thought, alone were suited to the highest leadership duties, to be the generals. They alone had the mental clarity and strength of nerve necessary for the most difficult decisions.

I first met Peter Chadwick in IBM when I was a fresh graduate and he a seasoned manager. Considering the wide gap in status, I was surprised how informal, friendly and helpful he was. I soon came to realise that, like von Equord himself Chad, as he was affectionately known, was not famous for overexerting himself. But he was a leader of rare vision, skill and effectiveness. A convivial, sociable, party animal, he conducted far more of his business chatting away affably in the pub over several beers than fretting over busy-work on his PC.

But those conversations were not idle talk. It was there he would learn what the customers wanted, what made his people tick and what needed to be done. There he would formulate his plan and, after a day or two’s thoughtful consideration, he would put it into operation, not by rolling up his own sleeves, of course, but by using his flawless insight to select the right person for the job, briefing them carefully and then unobtrusively watching over them to make sure they succeeded. The secret of his success, he confided to me many years later, was to delegate everything.

But it was away from work that Chad had the biggest impact on my life when he roped me into his cricket team. In 1982, Chad set up the Southgate ‘A’ XI. Competitive league cricket was on the rise with points for wins and different types of draw, but Peter did not approve. He still wanted to play cricket in the traditional way on village greens against the backdrop of verdant trees and lush pasture, with generous time for tea and a tempting pub serving cask-conditioned ale just a short walk away. The ‘A’ XI he created reflected his values, his personality and his talents to perfection; and for those lucky enough to participate, it provided some of the best days of our lives and memories we will treasure as long as we live.

Chad wanted to play ‘proper cricket’ where you had to bowl the opposition out to win the game and have fun doing it. The cricket itself was taken moderately seriously but winning was never the most important thing. What Chad wanted was that everyone got a chance to play and, more importantly, had an enjoyable and entertaining day out. Ideally the game would go down to the last over with seven runs needed and one wicket standing. If it was settled on the last ball, preferably by a comedic blunder, then that was perfection.

Chad rarely did much to exert himself. As a younger man he was a swing bowler capable of playing for the Southgate 1st XI, but those days were past when he got the ‘A’ XI off the ground. He would position himself in the field where the ball was least likely to go. On the rare occasions we were holding out for a draw, he would reluctantly strap on the armour and ponderously make his way to the middle to stolidly and solidly block out the last few balls of the innings … but that was about it.

But as captain he was worth his place ten times over, subtly guiding game after game to an exciting conclusion. If a batting side was struggling to make a game of it, a few overs of gentle and inaccurate spin would be served up to get them back on track. If our batters were making hay, the declaration would always be set to give the oppo a more than sporting chance. With Chad’s masterful tactical nous, and cunning handling of his bowlers and the field, tense finishes were surprisingly frequent. He loved to dangle the carrot of victory to the chasing side and then snatch it away as they overreached and lost vital wickets. And when the game was done, we could get down to the serious business of the day, enjoying a beer or three in the local pub, marvelling at an unexpectedly good performance or laughing over the absurdities endemic to the sort of cricket we played.

Chad selected his team as much for conviviality in the bar as sporting prowess, but he was careful to ensure he had enough good players to give him the control he needed to fashion the sort of game he wanted to play. Among the regulars Geoffrey Slipper was ever present as a parsimonious bowler and elegant fielder. Andrew Hawthorn bowled useful seam and Doug Gordon could be relied on to exhaust the opening bowlers (and the patience of the spectators) and soften up the new ball.

Ricky Gunn was our Bazball opening bat before Baz was out of short trousers and kept wicket immaculately well into late middle-age. Geoffrey ‘Beryl’ Burton provided solidity to the batting and outlandish wrist spin when the occasion demanded. Historian Dr Martin Folly contributed an erudite off spin on the pitch and rare erudition in the bar, to add to some famous batting performances. John Fay, on his day, would send the ball flying to all parts. David, ‘the Flat Controller’ Smith, another former 1st XI player, off-spinner and batsman was a bit too good for our level, but he was Chad’s ace in the hole if the oppo’s batters got away, or if we lost a quick five wickets.

On one occasion at Myddelton House we actually were 9 for 5, which led to hilarious renditions of Sheena Easton’s song, but for once Chad did feel sufficiently motivated to exert himself and scored his maiden fifty for the club to get us up to a respectable total.

The ‘A’ XI also played to another of Chad’s special talents, developing and growing the people around him, so there was usually a youngster or two in the side who he would carefully nurture to make the difficult transition from colt to adult cricket. Under his gentle tutelage his son Nick developed from a novice to an accomplished swing bowler.

What wonderful games we had, season after season, in the sparkling sunshine on the back pitch at Southgate or in picture perfect grounds at Tewin, Little Berkhamsted, Hadley Wood, Bayford, Ivinghoe Pitstone, Myddelton House, Mill Hill Village, Essendon, St Margaretsbury and Hertingfordbury. A few times we even headed into London to play at the breathtaking ground of the Honourable Artillery Company. The immortal crack of leather on willow, the occasional explosive appeal, and the quips and guffaws of the fielders as one incident or another led to hilarity.

Most of all we loved to play at Hertingfordbury. We played them often and got to know them well. The Brady brothers, Bernard Murphy, Edward and his grumpy ump father, Les Miserable were all great personalities who enhanced our games with their dry wit and good camaraderie. They were ideal foils for Chad and his love of playing the game of cricket in the way it is best enjoyed by such as us, where the sheer joy of the game was everything.

But all good things come to an end. The ‘A’ XI ran for eighteen sublime summers until 1999 when our dwindling fixture list caused by the remorseless march of league cricket forced Pete to accept the inevitable and join a league. But he was, as always, right. Blissful trips into rural Hertfordshire gave way to tedious journeys around the North Circular and the Constable-oil-painting backdrops became council parks and open fields with jumbo jets thundering above.

Peter later told me that he considered, his family aside, the ‘A’ XI to be his greatest achievement, and I was more privileged than I can say to be a beneficiary.

So thank you Peter for your love of cricket, your love of people, your love of life and for living it in your own way. You brought not just happy, but scintillating days of cricket to the lucky few who were part of your greatest project. The Field Marshal would certainly have approved, as did we all, of your unique style.

Our thoughts go out to the ever cheerful Kate, who Pete evidently loved with a passion. He once told me that the instant he saw her for the first time he knew with absolute certainty that he would marry her. We also think of Nick, Sally, Alex and Isobel who were the result.
Peter Chadwick was a great man and is sorely missed.

Ian Henley (ianwhenley@outlook.com)