RAIN stopped play is an all too regular part of the English cricketing summer. But just over 50 years ago in August 1973, it was “bomb hoax stopped play” — and I was there.

I was brought up watching and supporting the West Indies cricket team.

Cricket was always on the TV if there was a notable game to watch — obviously a big deal in the days of three or four channels and only one set in the house.

But there were few more exciting things for our family than when the West Indies team toured England.

So imagine the joy of my brother Erol, sister Jacqui and myself when our parents told us in the summer of 1973 that we were going to London to see the West Indies team play England.

Actually, we were not just going to London — which was exciting in itself to us in those days — but to Lords, no less, the home of cricket.

For some years one of my uncles, Uncle Herbie (who wasn’t really related at all, but may as well have been) had taken to calling me “Sobers” after the great West Indies all-rounder Garfield Sobers.

The exploits of Sobers in hitting Glamorgan’s Malcolm Nash for six sixes in one over in August 1968 for Nottinghamshire had placed the Baijan master on a level that left most black people I knew with a certain swagger at the very mention of his name.

By the time of the 1973 Test matches Sobers was already considered to be the greatest all-rounder (batsman, bowler and fielder) the game had ever seen — so to be called by that name was a real honour.

Back in 1973 when I was 10 years old, we were all too used to racism in the streets, at school and sadly for me on the sports pitches too.

We also did not see too many black role models on TV or anywhere else for that matter, other than the greats in sport such as Muhammad Ali and Pele or the plethora of fantastic black musicians.

So to see a team made up of people of African and Asian descent winning and, even more importantly, defeating the English, was vital in straightening our backs and lifting our heads at a time when it would have been easy to slump over into a shuffle and wonder how best we could serve “our masters.”

As well as the virtually daily existence of racism in our lives in the Black Country town of Walsall, we were of course well aware of other important issues where people were trying to cast off the yoke of their colonial rulers.

Throughout what I remember as a hot dry summer — although to my memory summers were always hotter in my youth — the Irish Republican Army had carried out a number of attacks in England.

I remember growing up wondering about this Irish against the English thing and soon realised that it was the other way around and very much the English against the Irish.

All I knew at age 10 was that the Irish were being demonised much like any black person I had read about who dared to raise their heads against being treated as “less than.”

I also knew that every Irish person I had ever met was great fun and had no trouble hanging around with black people, which was decidedly not the case with many of the English people I knew.

So the West Indies arrived in July for a three-Test series against England and were a team, under the great Rohan Kanhai, that was beginning to emerge into the side that was to later dominate world cricket for almost two decades.

The West Indies won the first Test at the Oval and drew the second at Edgbaston in Birmingham.

I have no memory of whether my dad went to the second Test given that it took place less than 15 miles from our house. I would guess that he did, but for some reason, this did not warrant a family trip.

In any case, the teams headed to Lord’s for the final game of the series and on the first two days the West Indies scored a mammoth 652 for 8 and England ended Friday on a very precarious 88 for 3.

I remember Mum and Dad saying to us that the best thing that could happen was to have the West Indies fielding on the Saturday when we were at the game so we could get to see all the players — Sobers, Kanhai, Alvin Kallicharran, Keith Boyce and the amazing spin bowler Lance Gibbs.

So Saturday was a full house, with a large West Indian contingent, mainly in the grandstand but also, in those days, on the grass behind the boundary ropes.

The West Indies supporters were banging drums, blowing horns and even knocking empty beer cans together if they didn’t have any instruments handy.

Every success was celebrated — and there was lots of success that day.

But midway through the afternoon, there was an announcement that there had been a telephone warning that a bomb had been planted somewhere in the ground and that the police had advised an evacuation.

Later it turned out that this was one of many similar hoax calls made across London on the same day, and Lord’s had actually received 13.

Most people, mainly the England supporters — there may have been one or two present — headed out of Lords, others, mainly the West Indies fans, stayed and moved on to the grass as the stands were searched.

I seem to remember that copious amounts of alcohol were consumed on the outfield by fans and players alike. I also believe it was a complete surprise to everyone when the all-clear was given to restart the game.

By the restart, my brother, sister and I were allowed by our parents to sit by the boundary rope just behind where the great Guyanese player Kallicharran was fielding.

Then, with the final ball of the day, the dour English opener Geoffrey Boycott very uncharacteristically hooked the ball into the safe hands of Kallicharran right in front of us as we sat just behind the boundary ropes sparking wild celebration — not least from us as Boycott was never a favourite in our household.

We learned later that Boycott had allegedly been jostled by some West Indies supporters as he left the pitch. I remember the catch but don’t recall the incident with Boycott at all.

Having said that, my brother has no memory of the game whatsoever (luckily I have photos from my late parents’ photo albums to back me up).

Fortunately, my sister has a clear memory of the day and her dancing around behind the boundary singing Kallicharran’s name.

England, forced to follow-on, lost three wickets by the close of play which was the prelude to the West Indies completing a massive innings-and-226-run victory during the fourth day of the game.

Immediately after the game the MCC banned spectators from sitting on the grass following the incident with Boycott and also, a few years later, banned the knocking together of tin cans during the game.

They can take away our drums and empty beer cans but they can never take away our memories of that wonderful day beating the old colonial ruler and the way a bomb hoax stopped play.