Cricket

by A. G. Steel; R. H. Lyttelton

If you want to play cricket you must begin as a boy, is a true, if not an original, remark. We remember asking a member of a well-known cricketing fraternity what promise a younger brother gave of future excellence, and his reply was, ‘He’s no good—but then he hasn’t had a chance, for he was so delicate he couldn’t begin till he was six years old.’ We do not ourselves presume to say that the game must necessarily be learnt whilst a child is under his nurse’s care; but nevertheless we know of no instance, unless Mr. A. E. Stoddart forms an exception to the rule, of anyone attaining to the first rank who has not received his early lessons in the noble game while still a boy. If this be so, it is of interest to all cricketers to consider what training a boy ought to have. Is he to be left merely to the light of nature and his own powers of observation, or is he to be systematically coached, and taught daily how each stroke is to be made and each ball bowled? Many think that a training of this kind can hardly be begun too soon or carried out with too great care and rigour. This may be so; but we are by no means inclined to agree with such a Spartan discipline. We believe that in games, as in life, if a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well; but, although we claim to be second to none in our keenness to see good boy cricketers, we differ in the method we advocate from those who support so severe a system of coaching young boys.

Let us give some reasons in support of our view. In the first place, success in cricket, and not in cricket alone, depends on the enjoyment and interest taken in the game, and we believe that there is great danger of destroying this enjoyment and interest by incessant coaching and teaching at too early an age. In the second place, all coaching has a tendency at first to eradicate individual peculiarities and to cramp a natural style. Mr. W. G. Grace, Mr. A. G. Steel, Shrewsbury, and many other well-known batsmen have peculiarities of their own, which could not have been taught in early boyhood, but which might very easily have been cramped, and perhaps entirely obliterated, much to their detriment, in the hands of even a skilful coach. We do not deprecate all advice even to very young boys, but we dislike anything that tends to interfere with the powers of nature; and although we shall be told that a good teacher merely directs them in the best possible way, we do not think that the advantage likely to be gained will at all compensate for a cramped style or loss of enjoyment. What should be taught, and when, we will endeavour to suggest as we proceed.

OUR NATIONAL GAME

First, however, one word to anxious parents and teachers of the art. It is quite hopeless to expect that every boy can be made into a cricketer. Countless are the excuses we hear to cover the feebleness and incapacity of would-be players, made sometimes by their parents, sometimes by themselves. They have never been coached, or they have been badly coached; they have been made to play too much, or they can’t play often enough; the ground they play on is so rough, or it is so easy that they can’t play on more difficult ground. They used to bowl very well; but they were overbowled, or they were never put on; or they are always put on at the wrong end, or the catches are always missed off their bowling. These and many other excuses are urged on their behalf; but those who have watched cricket for but a few years will soon learn to take such futile pleas for what they are worth. No boy can become a good cricketer who has not a natural capacity for the game. The batsman must have a good eye and is all the better for a good nerve; the fieldsman must be active; the bowler—ah! what must he have? Nascitur non fit; we will not commit ourselves at present to his requirements.

In saying this do not let it be supposed that we wish those only to play cricket who are likely to become good cricketers—far from it; but we are concerned with the game as an art and not as an exercise, and do not wish to raise vain hopes of success where success is impossible.

Now let us consider the three great departments of the game in detail; for, although they are necessarily and closely connected, we cannot treat of batting, bowling, and fielding in the same paragraph.

The batsman then first demands our attention, not because he is more useful to his side than the bowler, but because it is here that more may be taught than in any other department of the game. Take a boy ten years old—we start with double figures, let it be an omen for his future!—what can we tell him? Very little, we think, but certainly this: never to move his right foot, but to plant it firmly just inside the crease, with the toe barely clear of the leg-stump.

The left foot should also be placed in the same line, but it must be moved into the position which is found to be the easiest for playing or hitting any given ball. The batsman must learn to stand perfectly still with his eye fixed on the bowler’s hand, and he must try to think of the ball, and the ball alone; any fidgeting about is apt to interfere with an accurate habit of sight. A boy should also be told to drive the ball in front of the wicket and along the ground. We do not approve of the cut for young boys; it is the batsman’s most finished stroke, but it is absolutely fatal when attempted at an unsuitable ball. This is all we think it necessary to teach our juvenile batsman, though occasional hints beyond this may sometimes be useful. Do not, however, cramp a boy who is disposed to hit, but tell him to hit straight; it is easier at a later age to stop hitting than to teach it. For this reason single-wicket matches among small boys are not without their use, as they naturally encourage hard hitting in front of the wicket.

A danger which is not sufficiently guarded against at some private schools is the habit of allowing young boys to play to fast bowling; masters and others take part in the games and the practice, and bowl at a pace which would be called medium in a man’s match, but which is very fast for boys under fourteen years of age. The result of this is that boys learn to be afraid of the ball; and if they once show fear they will never become good players. It seems all but impossible to restore confidence even at a much later age, and we know of many instances—we will not be so unkind as to mention names—in which boys with great natural powers have never overcome their fear of the ball, which they had acquired before coming to a public school. For the same reason the growing custom of small boys playing in men’s matches is to be strongly deprecated.