Underhand bowling is by far the best for a learner, and learners are, or should be, a large class. Being generally at the wicket, it produces the straightest play: falling stumps are “no flatterers, but feelingly remind us what we are.” Caldecourt, who had a plain, though judicious, style of bowling, once observed a weak point in Mr. Ward’s play, and levelled his stumps three times in about as many balls. Many men boasting, as Mr. Ward then did, of nearly the first average of his day, would have blamed the bowler, the ground, the wind, and, in short, any thing but themselves; but Mr. Ward, a liberal patron of the game, in the days of his prosperity, gave Caldecourt a guinea for his judgment in the game and his useful lesson. “Such,” Dr. Johnson would say, “is the spirit and self-denial of those whose memories are not doomed to decay” with their bats, but play cricket for “immortality.”
Playing Forward and Back.—And now about length-balls, and when to play forward at the pitch, and when back for a better sight of the rebound.
A length-ball is one that pitches at a puzzling length from the bat. This length cannot be reduced to any exact and uniform measurement, depending on the delivery of the bowler and the reach of the batsman.
For more intelligible explanation, I must refer you to your friends.
Every player is conscious of one particular length that puzzles him,—of one point between himself and the bowler, in which he would rather that the ball should not pitch. “There is a length-ball that almost blinds you,” said an experienced player at Lord’s. There is a length that makes many a player shut his eyes and turn away his head; “a length,” says Mr. Felix, “that brings over a man most indescribable emotions.” There are two ways to play such balls: to discriminate is difficult, and, “if you doubt, you are lost.” Let A be the farthest point to which a good player can reach, so as to plant his bat at the proper angle, at once preventing a catch, stopping a shooter, and intercepting a bailer. Then, at any point short of A, should the bat be placed, the ball may rise over the bat if held to the ground, or shoot under if the bat is a little raised. At B the same single act of planting the bat cannot both cover a bailer and stop a shooter. Every ball which the batsman can reach, as at A, may be met with a full bat forward; and, being taken at the pitch, it is either stopped or driven away with all its rising, cutting, shooting, or twisting propensities undeveloped. If not stopped at A, the ball may rise and shoot in six lines at least; so, if forced to play back, you have six things to guard against instead of one. Still, any ball you cannot cover forward, as at B, must be played back; and nearly in the attitude shown in [page 115.] This back play gives as long a sight of the ball as possible, and enables the player either to be up for a bailer or down for a shooter.
More Hard Nuts.—Why do certain lengths puzzle, and what is the nature of all this puzzling emotion? It is a sense of confusion and of doubt. At the moment of the pitch, the ball is lost in the ground; so you doubt whether it will rise, or whether it will shoot—whether it will twist, or come in straight. The eye follows the ball till it touches the ground: till this moment there is no great doubt, for its course is known to be uniform. I say no great doubt, because there is always some doubt till the ball has passed some yards from the bowler’s hand. The eye cannot distinguish the direction of a ball approaching till it has seen a fair portion of its flight. Then only can you calculate what the rest of the flight will be. Still, before the ball has pitched, the first doubt is resolved, and the batsman knows the ball’s direction; but, when once it touches the ground, the change of light alone (earth instead of air being the background) is trying to the eye. Then, at the rise, recommences all the uncertainty of a second delivery; for, the direction of the ball has once more to be ascertained, and that requires almost as much time for sight as will sometimes bring the ball into the wicket.
All this difficulty of sight applies only to the batsman; to him the ball is advancing and foreshortened in proportion as it is straight. If the ball is rather wide, or if seen, as by Point, from the side, the ball may be easily traced, without confusion, from first to last. It is the fact of an object approaching perfectly straight to you, that confuses your sense of distance. A man standing on a railway cannot judge of the nearness of the engine; nor a man behind a target of the approach of the arrow; whereas, seen obliquely, the flight is clear. Hence a long hop is not a puzzling length, because there is time to ascertain the second part of the course or rebound. A toss is easy because one course only. The tice also, and the half-volley, or any over-pitched balls, are not so puzzling, because they may be met forward, and the two parts of the flight reduced to one. Such is the philosophy of forward play, intended to obviate the batsman’s chief difficulty, which is, with the second part, or, the rebound of the ball.
The following are good rules:—