Cricket 1913

Jun e 7 , 19 13. CRICKET: A WEEKLY RECORD OF THE GAME. 281 made from the skin of the rare snow-leopard, and of this the landlord was, not unreasonably, exceedingly proud. The tub was brought in by the chambermaid, who had been coached as to her part in the joke, and was placed in the centre of the hearth-rug. Without waiting for towels, which had been carefully “ forgotten,” Harrison plunged his feet i into the steam ing tub, which was filled with boiling water J and— birdlime! The sequel may be left to the imagination of the reader; suffice it to say that therte were but two persons who considered the joke had not been a vast success — to wit, the luckless “ Shoey” and the irate landlord. The bowling-green of the Savile Town Club at Dewsbury abuts on the cricket ground, and is only separated from it by a thick-set hedge. On the bowling-green side is a bench shaded by a tree, and this tree forms the background of the following story. Some years ago, before the commencement of a county match, a game of bowls was being enjoyed. Suddenly a shout was heard, “ Here come the cricketers! ” Two of the members of the bowling club (I was one) clambered on to the bench and gazed over the hedge. “ Hullo,” says one of them, anxious to display his intimacy with great men, “ here comes Peate. I know him quite well.” (“ By sight,” he should have added, but didn’t). “ W e’ll have a word with Peate.” Accordingly, when Peate had arrived almost beneath them, he was greeted with “ Hullo, Peate! Good morning, Peate. How d ’ye do, Peate? ” Little relishing this familiarity from a stranger, Peate stopped, and stared upwards at the heads peering over the wall. “ Ah, it’s you, is i t ? ” he replied slowly. “ Well, they always say you’ve got to look under the leaves to find the n u ts! ” With which Peate turned on his heel and re­ sumed his way to the pavilion, leaving his “ friend” sorely discomfited. A group of colliers were seated on a bench one summer’s afternoon, listlessly watching the game, when a young exquisite, dressed in a travesty of the latest fashion, strutted up and took his stand in front of them, obstructing their view of the play. A shrill whistle, thrice repeated, caused | the youth to turn around. “ Hey, thee, lad,” shouted a j collier, “ get out o ’ t ’ g a s-ligh t! ” A look of contempt was | the only reply. A pause of some moments ensued while | matters remained in statu quo. “ Well, then,” vociferated the collier, “ if thou wilt not get out o ’ t ’ gas-light, pull up thee socks.” A blush suffused the youth’s countenance, and he hastily moved away, pursued by a roar of laughter. This “ man of straw ” was sockless, as the interval between his boots and his tightly-braced trousers clearly demonstrated! Asa Roo was a good all-round man, just on the fringe of the county eleven. He was a tall, loose-limbed fellow, a member, I believe, of the Leeds Constabulary. I recollect j an amusing incident occurring a good many years ago in a match in which he and I were on opposite sides. It was the village feast, and the match was promoted by the local Boniface, principally, I should imagine, for his own benefit. The ground w as a large open space at the back of the hotel, and roundabouts and coker-nut shies formed an alternative J attraction to the cricket. The landlord himself was umpiring at the end at which I opened the bowling, and, noticing some uncertainty in his manner, I asked him if he had ever acted in such a capacity before and if he knew the rules of the game. “ No,” was the answer. “ Then what do you mean by standing umpire?” “ W ell,” came the reply, “ the ’ouse is mine, an ’ the bloomin’ ground is mine, so why shouldn’t j I ? ” Such logic was of course unassailable, so I told him [ that the best thing he could do was to say “ out ” and raise j his hand above his head if I said “ How ’s th a t? ” when I was bowling, promising at the same time not to appeal unless I was certain the man was out. This plan worked satisfactorily till the last over before lunch. I was bowling, and my third ball took a wicket. We did not immediately | adjourn, and Asa Roo came in to take the last ball of the | over. The ground was somewhat fiery, and I had been bumping them a bit, but this ball kicked badly and, rearing upwards, struck Asa a resounding thwack on the side of the head. “ How ’s th a t? ” I shouted, and “ H ’out! ” sings the umpire as he waved his cap over his head, “ and will you ’ave the nut or a c ig a r? ” Poor A sa! Righteous indigna­ tion as well as pain was depicted in his face as we trooped from the field. O f course the appeal was simply a joke on my part, ow ing to its being the last ball before lunch, and I explained this to Asa during the interval. He resumed his innings after lunch, and, I am glad to add, made a score of seventy odd in his best style. In my young days, concluded Mr. Bedford, an umpire in club cricket was a veritable twelfth man for his side; and did more damage to opposing teams than any village Spofforth or rustic Freeman. It is now many years ago that an incident happened which, though I remember it annoyed me seriously at the time, I often laugh over now. It was the annual feast, and we were playing our nearest neigh­ bours and deadly rivals. They had brought with them as umpire the village butcher— a mighty tough fellow, a man of beef and brawn, with an arm like a leg of mutton, who was as ready with his knuckles as with his tongue. Now I was bowling from his end. I was in pretty good form and had taken two or three wickets cheaply, so the umpire apparently thought it time for him to bestir himself. Accordingly he began scoring pretty freely ; “ wide ” was called for balls about a foot off the wicket, and no-balls came with painful regularity. I remonstrated, but was told I kept getting over the crease. Consequently I took good care to keep well behind the line, but the very next over, “ no-ball ” again croaked the umpire. “ D----- it all,” I ’m afraid I exclaimed, “ you can ’t say I overstepped the crease that tim e! ” “ No,” came the imperturbable reply, “ but when you delivered the ball both your feet were off the Iground 1 ” A. C. D e n h am . --------------- — Correspondence. To the Editor of C r ic k e t . S ir , — I saw some rather strong remarks in last week’s C r i c k e t about the behaviour of the Northampton spectators. I was at the match, and heard and saw what occurred. The decision of the umpire may have been right or wrong ; I don’t know about that. But I do knowT that the barracking was greatly exag­ gerated in certain papers. It was not a general affair. Only a few unsportsmanlike people were concerned. They don’t know w’hat cricket is. Let us be sorry for them, and hope they may learn ! This is the first outbreak of the kind at Northampton. The same sort of thing has happened on other grounds quite recently, and much less has been made of it. I hope you will be able to find room for this in your valuable paper. Yours truly. A n U m pire '. " Cricket can be traced as having been played in Warwick­ shire as far back as the beginning of the nineteenth century. In 1820 we read of the game being played in Birmingham in a field I opposite the Monument House, in Monument Road, Edgbaston, when but three houses existed on that side of the road between the * Ivy Bush ’ and Dudley Road.” — From S. Santall’s History of Warwickshire Cricket. C r i c k e t T o u r o r W e e k wanted by medium all-round player in June. Kent, Surrey, or Sussex preferred.— O. J. L., c/o Manager of Crickety 125, Strand, W \C. F o r S a le . — Two Ransome Mowing Machines, 24m. and 36m., both in good condition. Price £16 the two, or would sell separ­ ately. Apply : Groundsman, County Ground, Osborne Avenue, Newcastle-on-Tyne. F o r S a le . — Wisdens Cricketers Almanack , 18 volumes, 1896- 1913 inclusive, in publishers’ cloth covers, complete and in perfect condition. W ill accept £3 10s.— J. S ., c/o Manager of Cricket , 125, Strand, W.C. F o r S a le . — Lilly white’s Guide to Cricketers, 1856, 1858, 1859, and i860 ; rare. W hat offers ?— J. S., c/o Manager of Crickety 125, Strand, W.C.