Cricket 1897

232 CRICKET : A WEEKLY RECORD OF THE GAME. J une 24, 1897. BUSSEY’S < G C B -« - BATS. H IGH E S T G RAD E . BUSSEY’S BALLS. H IGH E S T G RAD E . BUSSEY’S GUARDS. H IG H E S T G RAD E . BUSSEY’S < CGB « GLOVES. H IG H E S T G R AD E BUSSEY’S BAGS. H IG H E S T G RAD E . CRICKETERS’ < - C G f r « DIARY I S A G E M F O R 6 d , CATALOGUES ON APPLICATION TO CITY DEPOT— 36 & 38, QUEEN VICTORIA STREET. LONDON. OR DEALERS ALL OVER THE WORLD. MANUFACTORY— PECKHAM, LONDON. TIMBER MILLS— ELMSWELL , SUFFOLK. BETWEEN THE INNINGS. I had the pleasure last Saturday afternoon of seeing that fine cricketor and worthy fellow, William Attewell run up his first century in first class cricket. He has often "been within measurable distance of it before with scores of 84, 84, 89 and once, if I remem­ ber rightly 96, but has never’quite managed to reach three figures. His innings at Graves­ end was a really fine one. When Attcwell and Pike came together, with only Guttridge and the two colts, Mason and little Gunn to follow, Notts were less than 1 00 ahead. If either the great bowler or the wicket-keeper had failed the probability is that the rest would have gone very cheaply, and Kent would have won by eight, nine or 10 wickets. But Attewell and Pike played the stonewall game to perfection until the clock had put their side out of danger. It was slow play, aggravatingly slow play ; but it was the right game under the circum­ stances, and the men deserve every credit for it. Though both played steadily, Pike was the slower of the two to watch. Ball after ball would he pat gently back, until he got a very loose one, and that was cut or snicked flash-like to the boundary. ‘ ‘ Dick’s” batting bad a little more human nature in it than Pike’s. He put more force on to the ball even in blocking it than Pike did, and gave the Kentish fields­ men some little work to do, even when play was slowest. The two must have stayed together something over two hours; and before the end of their partnership came their side was quite out of danger, for 400 had gone up, and it was evident that Kent would be set at least something like 200 to win. The greater security of affairs had not much effect on Pike; but Attewell quickened up greatly, and began to hit hard and well. If the fielding had been at all loose his score would have mounted fast; but I don’t think I have ever seen a Kent team field so well. Every man did good work, Mordaunt and the captain being especially conspicuous. When Pike was out and Mason came in, one began to realise that Attewell’s srore was nearing a hundred. Mason, though he did not stay long; made one or two good strokes ; but I don’t think he will be a tower of strength to the team for some time to come yet. Little Gunn, apparently under orders to play carefully until Attewell was safe, did a good deal of posing but very little hitting, while “ Dick *’ scored faster and faster. His last thirty were made in very good time. No one seemed to know his exact score (the Bat and Ball Ground has not the improved telegraph board), but every­ one knew he must be near the century ; and at last the applause of his comrades from the pavilion told us that he had reached it, and hearty was the clapping that sped all around the ground. Directly afterwards he suc­ cumbed to a ball from Marchant. Fancy a man making a century, and then being bowled by Mr. Marchant! But I think any­ thing might have got Attewell’s wicket then ; the match saved, the century achieved—what more was needed for glory ! It wanted the sang froid of a Shrewsbury to make a man careful at such a juncture. It was one of those moments that come at times as if in recompense for the dull hours that have preceded them. Dreary enough was it, especially to a Kentish partisan, to watch the game of block, block, block going on, while the minutes ebbed away, and all chance of a victory for the White Horse banner went with them. But to see Attewell — sturdy hard-working, good-tempered “ D ick ” score his first first-class century! the sight gave me a genuine thrill of pleasure that made me forget for the moment all that had gone before it. There was almost such another moment on Thursday—almost, but not quite. After the hitting of Mason and Burnup before lunch, the afternoon’ s play seemed very tame for awhile. Livesay is a really good bat; he makes some splendid strokes; but I have seen many livelier players. Weigall was out too soon for one to judge of his form at present, and so was Easby; the captain gave us a lively ten or fifteen minutes, but was soon out, as he generally is at Gravesend. Mean­ while Martin had been batting more steadily and, on the whole, much better than I had ever seen him bat before. Judging from some of his performances in other days, I had thought that his promotion in the batting list was an error of judgment; that, although undeniably useful, he was one of those men who are more likely to slog up 30 or 40 going in as No. 9 or 10, than to make a decent score if sent in earlier. I no longer think so. He is not a great batsman yet, but if he were ten years younger one would hardly feel j ustified in saying that he would never become so. One sighed in vain for a while for the old time slogging, though. But it came at last. The board showed just over 370—371, if I remember aright—when the ninth wicket fell and Huish came in. Martin had then made about 70, and directly after the wicket-keeper’s arrival he passed his previous highest score of 73. One could not mistake the fact that Huish, never a good bat, was so nervously anxious to keep up his wicket for his comrade’s sake, that he was in imminent danger of getting out through over-anxiety. After an over or two he steadied himself a bit, though, and, letting Martin have as much of the bowling as possible, made a manful effort to stay. Four—four—four—and four again from the bat of the powerful left-hander; he opened his shoulders, and put his muscle into each stroke, and “ smote as a man should smite.” The board showed 380—390—then 400—and the Kentish fire ran round the ground. Then came the tragedy. With the total 406 and his own score 90, the valiant “ Nutty ” made an uppish stroke in the slips ; he and Huish started to run, hesitated, stood looking at each other while the ball was thrown in, and Martin’s wicket was put down just as Huish, regaining self-possession, attempted to cross in order that Martin might be the not-out. I don’t know whose fault it was. The paper next morning said Martin ran himself out; but it was Huish’s call, and there was certainly not a safe run. It would certainly be hard to blame Huish, though, for he had done his level best, and he tried, like a true man and a good cricketer, to sacrifice himself for his comrade’s sake. There was no mistaking the sympathy felt for Martin on the ground: His achievement of the century for the first time (in first-class cricket, that is) would have been very popular at Gravesend. Martin is not a man whom, until the last two or three years, one would have expected a century from at any time; but Attewell has often been near three figures, and as long