The year was 1965 and a much younger Mike Amos took his first faltering steps into the world of journalism. Little did he know that what began with the name 'Gus Barkass-Williamson' would lead to a career spanning 40 years

It's 40 years today since fearfully I first footed towards journalism's sticky wicket, the scorers troubled ever since.

It was Bank Holiday Monday, the first to be hijacked from the beginning of August to the end. "Coaches nosed their way into the car parks like big liners in a sea of bobbing stallholders," wrote a rather more senior reporter on the Northern Despatch (bless it) in Darlington.

So ended the silly season; so, seamlessly, it started.

Julie Rogers was at the Flamingo, Eve Boswell at Club La Bamba. Durham Jail had ingested its fourth Great Train Robber - a story solitarily and curiously confined to the back page - and Heighington Show had broken all attendance records.

The new boy, as green as an overnight wicket, was charged with collating from the score cards in that morning's Northern Echo a list of Fives and Fifties - those local cricketers who'd had a canny weekend.

Why Gus Barkass-Williamson's 102 not out for Bishop Auckland against Blackhall was above the undefeated 103 by J R Townsend for Norton or the 113 by Thwaites of Normanby Hall may only be imagined.

They were early, very early, days, and the inky trade would suffer many more blots upon its copybook.

Townsend was very likely related to Stockton solicitor D C H Townsend, the last man to play cricket for England without ever representing a first class county; Thwaites was Ken Thwaites - greyhound trainer, chapel organist, all-round sportsman - who much later became an occasional visitor to the Backtrack column.

Neither was the list alphabetical, else W Athey's 52 not out for Middlesbrough II would have come out top. (This may not have been Boro lad Bill Athey, subsequently to play 23 Tests for England, since he was still a month short of his eighth birthday at the time.)

Geoff Mason had taken 8-7 for Shildon BR against Dean and Chapter, Brian Dobson 8-41 for Darlington against West Hartlepool, L Gibbs - the L Gibbs - 7-65 for Whitburn. E Kay for Bakelite against Lands - half ineluctably Elliotts, then as now - and M Jarvis for Marske against Northallerton both had bowling figures of 6-7.

Malcolm Jarvis's lad Paul was to turn his arm over to yet greater acclaim.

It was "G Barkass-Williamson 102*", however, which on a ramshackle Remington with three carbon copies and a splenetic space bar became my first words in journalism.

Had he been Smith, or Gibbs, or even Williamson, we'd probably never have tracked him. Throughout all these years, however, luck has been a newspaperman's firmest friend and greatest ally. Four decades on, serendipity's squared.

John Gordon Williamson was born on April 4 1936 at Norton-on-Tees, played 56 first class matches for Northamptonshire - 120 wickets, 820 runs - and also for Durham County and for Cheshire.

In the North-East, he had two spells with Norton and was Bishop Auckland's professional. The yet more extraordinary thing is that he'd only double barrelled his surname a few months earlier.

"My grandmother wanted the Barkass side of the family to be perpetuated. It was a condition of her will," he recalls. "It seemed a bit late for my father to do it, so I became Barkass-Williamson instead."

Now he's in the west Midlands - "there are Barkass-Williamsons all over Solihull" - and after beginning as an engineer at Westool in St Helen's Auckland became regional director and a vice-president of Citibank.

"I suppose I did quite well," he concedes.

He made his Durham debut at 18, became the first man to register a century on Norton's new scoreboard - "me and Harry Thompson put on 195 in 25 overs against Yarm" - helped Bishop Auckland to the NYSD League championship in 1966.

"I started out primarily as a batsman and as I got older concentrated more on bowling," he says.

The first of many millions of words? "Well," says GBW, genially, "I'm sure that's very nice, too."

Finding Gus Barkass-Williamson was partly post-carbon paper technology, partly the random access memory of K R Hopper - a former team-mate at Bishop Auckland and Durham County and at 72 still opening the batting for Haughton in the Darlington and District League.

"I've been writing your stuff for you ever since you started," says Keith, and is inarguably owed a point on this occasion.

His fondest memory of Gus is a cup match against Reyrolles - "one of those Tyneside factory teams, anyway". Reyrolles, nine wickets down, needed 12 to win with two balls remaining. The bus driver steered an uncertain route to the crease.

"He wandered out like he was lost," Keith recalls. "Black trousers, nee sweater, nowt. Gus was just back from county cricket, his eyes lit up.

"The bus driver waved his bat at the first ball, it caught a top edge and went for six. The next was exactly the same, off the bat handle, six.

"It was one of the most incredible things I've ever seen on a cricket field."

Gus remembers it, too, begs to differ. "I'm pretty certain it was the bus driver but they only wanted ten. That first one only went for four."

On the sixth day of that first week, a news editor called Dick Tarelli ordered me to cover Darlington v Carlisle, rugby union.

Pleas that I'd never previously seen a rugby match, had no more idea of the rules than those of lacrosse and couldn't, in any case, see the blessed ball all failed to penetrate the pall of Ogden's Walnut Flake within which he was semi-permanently enshrouded.

Dick ran what was called the lineage pool, and was up to his neck in it. There were orders for running reports from three other evening papers, a "considered" verdict for the Sunday Sun and 750 words for the Cumberland Star.

"You'll soon get the hang," said Dick, and wandered off - as was his wont - for a few hours snooker in the Conservative Club.

"Don't forget to reverse the charges," he added over his shoulder, as if suddenly remembering the National Council for the Training of Journalists did expect some sort of pipe and slippers paternalism. It was the only advice he ever offered.

Down at McMullen Road, where Darlington played and most of the team appeared to be Zisslers, it must have been a bit like the forester coming across the Babes in the Wood. A spectator, detecting a certain callowness - panic may be the better word - asked if he might help.

Thus it was that he watched the match while I stood by the telephone, dialling O for Obfuscation.

I've looked back at that day's Pink, too: September 4 1965. Jim Baxter had signed for Sunderland, Geoff Boycott scored his first century of the season, Newcastle United beaten Northampton Town in the old first division and Middlesbrough wing half Billy Horner had asked to be put on the transfer list, claiming that he was being made a scapegoat.

Of Darlington v Carlisle, rugby's match of the day, there wasn't so much as a mention.

The sport which James Gibbs is credited with introducing in 1899 (Backtrack, August 26) is table tennis. Though other things weigh heavily, Newcastle United programme editor Paul Tully was first with the answer.

Since we've been talking name changes, readers may today care to identify the former Sunderland player who signed as Alan Hope but became better known by another name entirely.

Now embracing the high fives, I venture onwards to the 50s.

Published: ??/??/2004