Cricket 1890

76 CRICKET A WEEKLY EECORD OF THE GAME. APRIL 24, 1890. THE MISERIES OF MINOR CRICKET. There are plenty of enthusiasts who, when the above heading meets their eyes, will assume the position of that worthy who vowed there was no such thing as bad beer, only some sorts were better than others; similarly, your enthusiast will declare that all cricket is bliss, though some kinds in a greater degree than others. Yet, as one whose love for the grand game has always outrun his skill therein, and who has had some twenty years’ experience of cricket other than first or even second class, the writer, convinced that he is one of a large number, would fain be allowed to testify against some of the evils that beset what may be called minor, or Saturday afternoon cricket. Let it first be clearly understood what is meant by minor cricket. Certainly not the contests between so-called minor counties, nor matches between the great wandering elevens and such clubs as Esher, where you will find a large percentage of public school and university men playing on each side; the term is meant to include those clubs of which there are hundreds in the London district, and dozens near the great towns, which are composed chiefly of business men, young and middle-aged, who have a fondness for the game, and yet have never learnt how it should be played, either by practice or in theory. First of miseries I would place slackness, and unpunctuality. Most matches of the minor class begin nominally at half-past two, and stumps are drawn at a time varying between half-past six and half-past seven —that is to say, even with a punctual start you cannot have more than five hours for play, from which very likely half-an-hour for intervals must be deducted. Now, five hours is not an enormous amount of time to devote to a match—one would think men who can play only one match a week would find it too short, but does one ever see a punctual start ? Not in my experience. One or two keen cricketers may appear about half-an- hour before the time for beginning play, get on flannels and be all ready, but, certainly, most of the home team and all the visitors will choose atrain arriving at 2.20 rather than one at 1.50 or 2, and will be strolling into the pavilion to change just when they ought to be coming out ready for play. Of course, the “ office ” bears tne blame : that luckless office, which has more iniquities to answer for than ever scapegoat bore into the wilderness ! which is accountable for the loss of a precious half hour when time is most valuable ! It never seems to occur to anyone that he might go to business a little earlier, and so be able to start a little earlier. Slackness again shows itself too plainly when a side has to go in for the second time. This class of match is won, nine times out of ten, on the first innings, and in all probability, when both sides have batted, there will remain some hour or less before the time fixed for drawing stumps. Then shall you see what unsuspected energy is latent in those who lounged so lazily on to the field; then shall you see packing in hot haste by those who “ must catch the 6.30; ” then shall the captain of the visiting side hint to his opponent that he “ does not think it’s much good ^oing on ; ” then, if the othar captain declines to take the hint to draw stumps, shall be seen the melancholy sight of batsmen going in with walking boots, tweed trousers, linen shirt with cruelty collar, and one pad, to play—well, anything but cricket! To such an extent does this indifference prevail, that the writer could name at least one club by which runs obtained in the second innings of a half-day match are not counted in compiling the averages—nor, of course, balls bowled. Another instance of unpunc- C r ic k e t e r s .— B e st G oods b e a r th is M a r k .— A d v t. tuality is the arrival of the visiting team with only five or six men, when they will probably ask for first innings to give their other men time to come; or, if that modest proposal is declined, they will expect substitutes to be provided. Neither plan is fair to the other side, who should not be punished for their opponents’ indolence by either losing the advantage of first innings (should they win the toss), or by having extra fielding imposed upon them. The captain in minor matches has no easy cards to play. As a rule, he is chosen, not for any special knowledge of the game, but be­ cause he is able and willing to play in all or most of the matches. He has, therefore, not that authority over his field which is neces­ sary, and is, consequently, less able to keep his men in hand when the game is going against them. When everything “ comes off,” and his side wins from start to finish, all very well. But when luck is adverse, then, like the policeman’s, “ his lot is not a happy one.” Many and grievous are the thorns in his side ; the batsman who was put in too early; the batsman who has made 10 not out, and believes (and proclaims urbi et orbi) that had he had a fair chance he would have made fifty; the man who advocates putting the other side in first, “ because then there’s less chance of their beating us;” the bowler who was over-worked; the bowler who was not put on soon enough ; the expert who having seen Spofforth bowling on a kicky wicket, with Boyle close in at mid-on, insists on attempting to rival the great Australian, and, on a good wicket, incontinently imperils his hapless mid-on’s life by sending up slow half-volleys —each and every one of these is convinced that the loss of the game is entirely due to the non-appreciation of his merits by the captain. Fieldsmen, too, are often troublesome. There are many who consider themselves insulted if asked to bhange their position, the request being deemed a slur on their superior knowledge of the game; this is the kind of man whose idea of fielding long-slip and long- on alternately is to stand rooted to the same spot, and then to show the liveliest astonish­ ment when a big drive soars over his head, and a stroke which ought to have been an easy catch adds four to the total. Very terrible, too, is the man who thinks he can field cover-point, and seizes every opportunity of throwing violently at the wicket. Sometimes—but ah ! how seldom— he throws a man out; nineteen times in twenty he misses wicket and wicket-keeper, and as the lazy fieldsman is sure to be the one who ought to be backing up—and isn’t— the ball travels gaily to the boundary. As to dropped catches, they are without number; and what wonder, when men rarely, if ever, think of practising"anything but batting and bowling. The new rule of the closure has also its snare for a captain. In every team are several men whose only chance of getting many runs is to go in when the earlier bats­ men have made a stand, and knocked the bowling to pieces. If the closure is used, these batsmen get no innings ; on the other hand, if the better bats fall quickly, the tail find themselves unable to score. Hence jealousies and disappointments. But of all terrors in this class of cricket, the local umpire is the worst. Whether he appear in the guise of the man who is not quite good enough to play, and therefore must act as umpire'; or as the tradesman who subscribes to the club, and who, ^though shaky on the rules of the game, has (to quote Carlyle) “ one purpose sure and clear before him,” namelv to do the best he can for his own side; or as the third-rate “ professional” —in any of these forms he is a monster, and judging by his decisions cui lumen ademptum. Space would fail were his eccentricities fully set forth; let it suffice to give one or two instances which may be accepted as literally true. A match was being played between two clubs in the West of England, several county players taking part on each side. One of the cracks made a long stand, and seemed there for the day. The towling was changed several times, till at last down came a fast crooked one on the off-side, which the striker con­ temptuously hit at with one hand, tipping the ball into long-slip’s hands. But the hostile umpire at the bowler’s end was equal to the occasion—“ W ide! 1” he called in stentorian tones. The batsman con­ tinued his innings, and made over two hun­ dred, not out ! The writer once fell a victim to a smart piece of combined play on the part of an umpire and a fieldsman. He tried to hit a ball on the leg-side, and missed. The ball touched his pad, and lodged in the hands of the wicket-keeper standing back. Neither bowler nor catcher appealed, but cover-point had heard the “ click.” “ How’s that ? ” “ Out! ” and exit a disgusted batsman. The captain of the opposing side apologised afterwards for his umpire’s blunder, but the mischief was done. Another remarkable instance of the moral obliquity of partisan umpires may be given. A famous county player was in the habit of making tremendous scores for his village olub, but every one who played against him knew to his sorrow that it was next to impossible to get him given out lbw, or caught at the wicket, if the decision lay with the local umpire. He took full advantage of these privileges, and scored hundreds with astonishing frequency. There was a story current that on one occasion he made a mis-hit early in his innings, and “ skyed” the ball. The umpire seeing that the catch was going to a fieldsman known to have a safe pair of hands, called “ No Ball” just as the catch was made ! Cases have also been known of a bowler being “ no-balled” for breaking the wicket with his foot in the act of delivery, though there was no question of his being over the crease. A reminiscence of village cricket in Lan­ cashire some twenty-five years ago, though not bearing on the question in hand, may perhaps be admitted here. The writer, then a mere lad, went to play in a match against a club in the delectable neighbourhood of Chowbent. Now, the Lancashire colliers are not to-day remarkable for sweetness and light, and at that time they were a very rough lot indeed, given to saluting strangers with a half brick, also to fighting on any, or no provoca­ tion. The ground was something awful, and the fast “ grubs ” of our opponents settled us for some forty or fifty runs. Then the Chowbenters took the bat. Our attack con­ sisted of fast underhands at one end, and the old-fashioned slow lobs, with a great curl on, at the other. A stalwart collier had to take first ball from the lobber. This pitched out­ side the leg-stump, and, escaping the furious mow with which it was greeted, knocked down the off bail. The batsman looked at the broken wicket for a moment in dumb astonish­ ment, and then refused to go out, on the ground that such a twisting ball was “ noan reet ” [Anglice ,not fair). To him the wicket­ keeper, looking askance, “ Aretha goin*, divil, or maun Ah shift thee ? ” This was,of course, a challenge to battle, and a desperate fight would certainly have followed liaa it not been for the prompt interference of the parson, who managed to keep the peace, and induced the discomfited batsman to withdraw. We won the match, but were hooted off the field, one player, at least, registering a mentalvow never to be found playing in that place again. To return. What manager of a match has not been vexed to his inmost soul by excuses for not playing received by last post on Friday night or even on Saturday morning ?—excuses which are palpably frivolous, and merely show that the defaulter has found some amusement which he prefers to an afternoon’s cricket. A specimen of this class is the in­ dividual who is ready and anxious to play in all the home matches, but always has some excuse to evade out matches, thereby throwing extra expense and inconvenience on those who have the interests of their club at heart.