The Summer Field

144 exception always had fielding sides far above the average’. Likewise, as George Geary put it in a 1936 article, ‘catches change matches’, whether dropped or taken. In July 1912 for instance, when Durham wanted 109 to beat visiting Sunderland in the Durham Senior League, Dennis Hendren – elder brother of Patsy, and Durham’s pro’ after Milam – turned a ball to leg for two: However to his great surprise and to that of the crowd Bodin who was fielding at square leg brought off a remarkable catch. He literally threw himself at the ball and took the ball high up in his right hand. No doubt he was greatly surprised himself to have reached the ball. This was disappointing to Dennis who said afterwards that he never felt in better batting form. Sunderland won by 19 runs. This summed up the wonder of fielding; and an uncomfortable truth. Anyone could take a catch as well as the best fielder on earth, one ball, and betray the bowler the next. More likely, fielding was unappealing, or for lack of variety or after bad experiences it had lost its appeal. It was repetitive; and tiring; perhaps too cold or too hot; for weekend players, too much like the work they had come on the field to forget. Nor did the coaches and their expensive equipment make fielding any more enjoyable. The ‘Kachaball’ slatted wooden bed on an iron frame, to teach slip catching, dated from before 1939, when it cost about £9 new, much dearer than nets and about equal to all the basic batting and wicketkeeping kit that a club needed to take to the field. All the aids, drills and practice did not make fielding any less alienating, because the ball always came your way when the batsman chose, not you. Another uncomfortable truth was that some fielding and bowling – a catch, or a hit wicket – were beyond doubt, while a run-out, and above all, leg before wicket, were not. Even if you did a good job as a fielder or bowler, could you trust the umpire to do his job? Fielding and Wicketkeeping