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Shadow play

James Macintyre picks some likely members of Labour’s next front bench.

The 50 or so MPs standing for Labour's shadow cabinet will discover their fate on 7 October. As well as Harriet Harman, already elected as deputy leader, four of the five leadership contenders will be offered roles (Diane Abbott is unlikely to run). Add to the list Douglas Alexander and Alan Johnson. Here are some other names to look out for.

Five to watch for this time

Jim Murphy MP for East Renfrewshire since 1997. Age: 43
Potential job: shadow Northern Ireland secretary

This Glasgow-born Catholic MP and former Scottish secretary under Gordon Brown is exceptionally well regarded by Labour colleagues of all factions. A former NUS president, he has a hinterland and is captain of the parliamentary football team. He is an homme sérieux who helped organise the papal visit, served as a minister in the Cabinet Office, for employment and for Europe, and was voted minister of the year by parliamentarians (House Magazine award). He is believed to have been underpromoted under both Tony Blair and Brown.

David Lammy MP for Tottenham since 2000. Age: 38
Potential job: shadow Cabinet Office minister

Lammy was elected in a by-election in 2000, and was soon serving under Blair. His ministerial career continued under Brown, though he never made the cabinet. Now, his profile is expected to rise again as he stands for the shadow cabinet while also running Ken Livingstone's London mayoral bid. Lammy is articulate and popular in London, and some MPs believe it is important that there be a black as well as a female presence in the shadow cabinet.

Yvette Cooper MP for Pontefract and Castleford since 1997. Age: 41
Potential job: shadow health secretary

Cooper is tipped to eclipse her husband, Ed Balls, and become shadow chancellor, especially if David Miliband becomes leader. Why? Because Balls opposed the Alistair Darling plan to halve the deficit in four years, a strategy endorsed by Miliband Sr. Whether or not this comes to pass, Cooper remains the most senior woman other than Harriet Harman likely to be given a leading role. A "darling" of the Parliamentary Labour Party whom some tip to top the poll and one day run for the leadership.

Jack Dromey MP for Birmingham Erdington since 2010. Age: 62
Potential job: shadow work and pensions secretary

Dromey, former deputy general secretary of the Transport and General Workers' Union, is likely to join his wife, Harriet Harman, in the shadow cabinet. Dromey, who stands down as party treasurer this month, infuriated Blair in 2006 when he revealed that he was unaware of certain donations to Labour, a declaration that helped fuel the "cash for peerages" scandal that brought police into No 10. He remains close to Brown.

Stephen Twigg MP for Liverpool West Derby since 2010 (Enfield Southgate 1997-2005). Age: 43
Potential job: shadow development minister

When Twigg unexpectedly beat Michael Portillo in the 1997 Labour landslide, the moment was so celebrated that books were written about Portillo's defeat. Twigg looked as shocked as everyone else, and his modesty makes him popular in the party still. Before losing his seat in 2005, this civil libertarian was a minister for four years; he worked with the late Robin Cook to reform parliament. He ran the Foreign Policy Centre before returning to the Commons in May.

Five of the new intake to watch

Rachel Reeves Leeds West. Age: 31
One day? Shadow chief secretary to the Treasury

One of the brightest of the new intake, Reeves is an economist with a rare gift for explaining complex theories in simple terms. The state-educated Oxford graduate worked at the Bank of England and the British embassy in Washington, DC, as well as Halifax Bank of Scotland. She is the first female MP to represent any of the Leeds constituencies since Alice Bacon, who was first elected in 1945. Reeves is on the business, innovation and skills select committee.

Chuka Umunna Streatham. Age: 31
One day? Shadow justice minister

The smooth-talking lawyer from the "Compass left" of the party is one of the youngest MPs in parliament and occasionally tipped as a future leader. Umunna laughs off frequent comparisons to Barack Obama, but don't be fooled: he is ambitious and has already impressed colleagues on the Treasury select committee. He is well regarded by leading figures in the party, including Tessa Jowell and Harriet Harman.

Michael Dugher Barnsley East. Age: 35
One day? Shadow employment minister

Firmly of the "old right" of the party, Dugher was head of policy for the AEEU (the Amalgamated Engineering and Electrical Union, now merged into Unite) before becoming a special adviser to Geoff Hoon at Defence, and then an adviser to Brown at No 10. Raised in Yorkshire, he narrowly lost out to Ed Miliband for selection in Doncaster before gaining a seat in neighbouring Barnsley.

Gloria De Piero Ashfield. Age: 37
One day? Shadow equalities minister

De Piero's intelligence and fierce Labour tribalism should not be underestimated just because of her status as a lads' mag pin-up girl or her GMTV past. She worked her way up through serious broadcast journalism at ITV and the BBC before joining the popular morning show. She was brought up in a working-class area of Bradford by Italian immigrant parents.

Rushanara Ali Bethnal Green and Bow. Age: 35
One day? Shadow housing minister

An East Ender who grew up in Tower Hamlets, Ali moved with her family from Bangladesh to London at the age of seven. She became a governor at Tower Hamlets College, where she studied, and is now a commissioner on the London Child Poverty Commission and a trustee of the Paul Hamlyn Foundation. She is better liked in the Commons than her predecessor in Bethnal Green and Bow, George Galloway.

James Macintyre is political correspondent for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 September 2010 issue of the New Statesman, The 50 people who matter

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An English hero for the ages: Ian Botham at 60

Botham blends his sportsmanship and deep-seated passion for cricket with a lust for life.

Begging W H Auden’s pardon, it is possible both to honour and to value the vertical man, and in the case of Ian Botham, who turned 60 on 24 November, it is our bounden duty. No sportsman has given Britons so much to enjoy in the past half-century and no sportsman is loved more. Two decades after he retired from first-class cricket, his reputation as one of life’s champions remains unassailable.

No mere cricketer is he, either. Botham is a philanthropist, having raised more than £12m for various charities, notably Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research. In December, 30 years after his first walk from John o’Groats to Land’s End, he will set off again, in South Africa, where England are on tour. And he really does walk, too, not amble. As somebody who accompanied him on one of his dozen walks said: “You can’t keep up with him. The man is a phenomenon.”

Of all postwar sportsmen, only Bobby Charlton and, at a pinch, Henry Cooper come close to matching Botham’s enduring popularity. But Charlton, a shy man who was scarred by the Munich plane crash of 1958 (and may never have recovered from its emotional effects), has never comfortably occupied a public stage; and Cooper, being a boxer, had a solitary role. Botham, by contrast, spoke for England. Whenever he picked up his bat, or had a ball in his hand, he left spectators in no doubt.

Others have also spoken for England. Bobby Moore and Martin Johnson, captains respectively of England’s World Cup-winning football and rugby teams, were great players but did not reach out to people as naturally as Botham. Nick Faldo, Lester Piggott, Sebastian Coe and, to bring us up to date, Lewis Hamilton have beaten the best in the world, but they lacked those qualities that Botham displayed so freely. That is not to mark them down. They were, and are, champions. But Botham was born under a different star.

It was John Arlott, the great cricket commentator, who first spotted his uniqueness. Covering a match at Taunton in 1974, he asked the young colt to carry his bags up the rickety staircase to the press box, where Arlott, wearing his oenophile’s hat, pulled out a bottle of red wine and invited Botham to drink. Forty years later Botham is a discriminating wine drinker – and maker. Along with his friend and fellow England great Bob Willis, and their Australian wine­making pal Geoff Merrill, he has put his name to a notable Shiraz, “BMW”.

Arlott, with his nose for talent and good company, saw something in the young Botham that Brian Close, his captain at Somerset, was beginning to bring out. Later, Mike Brearley, as England captain, drew out something even more remarkable. As Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote, you’ve got to be carefully taught. And Botham, a fine team man as well as a supreme individual performer, has never withheld praise from those who enabled him to find his voice.

If sport reveals character, then cricket is the game that reveals it most clearly. In no other sport is the individual performance rooted so firmly in a team context. Every over brings a contest of skill and intelligence between batsman and bowler but only a team can win the match. “A cricketer,” as Arlott said, “is showing you something of himself all the time.”

Cricket also reveals national character more than any other sport. Football may be the most popular game in the world but cricket, and cricketers, tell us far more about England and Englishness. It is instructive, in this regard, to hear what Philippe Auclair, a French journalist and author long resident in London, has to say about Botham: “He is essentially an 18th-century Englishman.” In one! It’s not difficult to sense a kinship with Tom Jones, Fielding’s embodiment of 18th-century life, who began his journey, as readers may recall, in Somerset.

A country boy who played for Worcestershire after leaving Somerset, and who lives by choice in North Yorkshire, Botham is an old-fashioned Englishman. Although nobody has yet found him listening to the parson’s sermon, he is conservative with a small and upper-case C, a robust monarchist, handy with rod and gun, and happiest with a beaker in front of him. He represents (though he would never claim to be a representative) all those people who understand instinctively what England means, not in a narrow way, but through something that is in the blood.

Above all, he will be remembered for ever as the hero of 1981. Even now it takes some believing that Botham bowled and batted with such striking success that the Australians, who were one up after two Tests, were crushed. Some of us who were actually at Headingley for the famous third Test – thousands who claim to have been there were not – recall the odds of 500-1 on an England victory going up on the electronic scoreboard that Saturday evening.

Botham made 149 not out as England, following on, beat the Aussies by 18 runs. For three hours the country seemed to stop. In the next Test, at Edgbaston, Botham took five wickets for one run as Australia fell under his spell. Then, at Old Trafford, on a dank Saturday afternoon, he played the most memorable innings of his life and one of the greatest innings ever played by an Englishman: 118 magnificent, joyful runs. Joy: that’s the word. Botham brought joy into people’s lives.

Yet it was the final Test at the Oval, which ended in a draw, that brought from him a performance no less remarkable than those from before. He bowled 89 overs in that match, flat out, continuing to run in when others withdrew with injury. That was the team man coming to the fore. Little wonder his comrades thought the world of him.

Modest, loyal, respectful to opponents, grateful to all who have lent him a hand, and supported throughout a turbulent life by Kath, his rock of a wife, and their three children, this is a cricketing hero to rank with W G Grace, Jack Hobbs, Wally Hammond and Fred Trueman. A feature in the lives of all who saw him, and a very English hero. 

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State