He never made officer when serving Queen and country with the Royal Green Jackets but FC was a gentleman.
Martyn was the joker in the Strollers’ pack of kings, aces and knaves. He vocally encouraged fielders and bowlers in terms that today would offend political correctness. He was the Strollers’ christener-in-chief, sizing up a newcomer within the first few overs and tagging them with their nickname before innings end. Thus, I became Captain Jesus and the occasional diving grab at gulley was hailed by FC at neighbouring point with a full-bellied: ‘Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!’.
The Fat Controller’s light-hearted marshalling of troops was his full-hearted way of building team spirit and a Sunday afternoon game was poorer if FC was not on the field.
Martyn’s army training came to the fore on match days. His corner of the changing room was always neat and tidy, in contrast to his slovenly civvy-street team mates.
Hours served on the grenade range bore fruit when FC came on to bowl military medium. Five paces. Take aim. Arm straight. Fire! Awestruck by his unique action, batters forgot to watch the ball and were soon on their way to the pavilion, double-taking, as they went, at the athletic prowess they had just witnessed – and wondering why fellow Stroller Tim Fletcher was calling him ‘Chucka’.
The archives record that in the 2001-2003 seasons, FC grabbed four five-fers, with a best, in 2002, of 5 for 16.
The same archives reveal that in the 2001-2009 seasons he shared the Strollers’ record for the 10th-wicket partnership with John Casey (38 versus Goldaming, 2001).
Martyn once shared with me that his batting ambition was to score a maiden 50. He came close in an away game at Goldaming, making a care-free 40 batting at number 9. Even as a tea-totaller, he would gladly have bought his team mates a celebratory jug had he made his coveted half-century.
Martyn was more than the joker. He was the grafter. He willingly put in more than his share of the grunt work, from setting of the wickets and collecting boundary markers to putting out the scoreboard numbers and squeezing into the one-size-don’t-fit-all white coat to do a double-stag of umpiring. Martyn was always about putting the team first.
Beneath the ‘Come-on-you sperm-whales’ facade, Martyn was a kind and caring man.
When I joined Strollers in the early noughties, I was accompanied by my teenage daughter, Janine. FC was very encouraging and protective of her as she curated the sacred scorebook, making sure she had a drink, initiating and collecting a scorer’s fee whip-round. Likewise, he helped my son, Andy, who was playing for ACC colts, to integrate into big kids’ cricket.
When, later, Janine was a Middlesex member, it was a great joy to take FC into the Lord’s pavilion to watch a T20 match. Suited and booted – and with the obligatory tie – he was the picture of elegance and the best of company.
In later years, as a mark of his heart for others, he volunteered at The Salvation Army in Croydon to help with their outreach to homeless people.
When his father died, Martyn asked me and my wife, Maggie, to officiate at the funeral. It was an honour to do so. Just as it is an honour to pay tribute here.
Martyn is survived by his wife, Mem, and son, Bill.
Well played, my friend!

Funeral Details:
Tuesday 7th April
3:15pm
West Chapel, Croydon Crematorium
Followed by the wake at The Salvation Army, Croydon Citadel, CR0 1XY