Fortuna fortes adjuvat, men of the best nerve have the best luck; and nullum numen habes si sit prudentia, when a man knows as much of the game as we would teach him, he will find there is very little luck after all. Young players should not think about being out by chance: there is a certain intuitive adaptation of play to circumstances, which, however seemingly impossible, will result from observation and experience, unless the idea of chance closes the ears to all good instruction.
CHAP. X.
HINTS ON FIELDING.
The essence of good fielding is, to start before the ball is hit, and to pick up and return straight to the top of the bails, by one continuous action. This was the old Wykehamist style—old, I hope not yet extinct, past revival—(thus had we written, March 1851, and three months after the Wykehamists won both their school matches at Lord’s);—for, some twenty years since, the Wykehamist fielding was unrivalled by any school in England. Fifteen years ago Mr. Ward and, severally and separately, Cobbett instanced a Winchester Eleven as the first fielding they had ever seen at Lord’s. And among this chosen number were the yet remembered names of B. Price, F. B. Wright, Knatchbull, and Meyrick. These hardy Trojans—for the ball never came too fast for them—commenced fagging out long, very long, before they were indulged in batting, and were forced to qualify, even for fagging, by practising till they could throw over a certain neighbouring barn, and were always in bodily fear of the pains and penalties of the middle stump if ever they missed a ball. But these days of the voluntary system are far less favourable for fielding. To become a good fieldsman requires persevering practice, with a “big fellow” to fag for who will expect a little more smartness than is always developed by pure love of the game.
And now, Etonians, Harrovians, Wykehamists, I mention you alphabetically, a few words on training your Eleven for Lord’s. Choose first your bowlers and wicket-keeper and long-stop; these men you must have, though not worth a run: then if you have any batsmen decidedly superior, you may choose them for their batting, though they happen not to be first-rate fieldsmen. But in most school Elevens, after naming four or five men, among the other six or seven, it is mere chance who scores; so let any great superiority in fielding decide the choice. I remember playing a match in which I had difficulty in carrying the election of a first-rate fieldsman against a second-rate bat. Now, the said batsman could not certainly be worth above fourteen runs; say seven more than the fieldsman. But the fieldsman, as it happened, made a most difficult catch, put one runner out, and, above all, kept the bowlers in good heart, during an uphill game, by stopping many hard hits. A bad fieldsman is a loose screw in your machinery; giving confidence to the adversary, and taking the spirit out of his own party. Therefore, let the captain of an Eleven proclaim that men must qualify by fine fielding: and let him encourage the following exercises:—
Put in two batsmen, whose play is not good enough to spoil, to tip and run. You will then find what very clean fielding is required to save one run, with men determined to try it.
Let every man practise long-stop.
Long-leg is a fieldsman nearly as essential as a good long-stop. A man who can run and throw well should make a long-leg his forte, and practise judging distances for a long catch, covering ground both to right and left, neat handling, with allowance for the twist, and especially an arrow-like and accurate return. No thing is so likely to put the runner out as a swift throw to the hands from a long distance. Aspire to foil the usual calculation, that, at a long distance, the runner can beat the throw.
Let the wicket-keeper take his place, and while some one throws or hits, let him require the quickest and most accurate throwing. A ball properly thrown comes in like an arrow—no time being lost by soaring high in air. At short distances, throw at once to the hands; where unavoidable, with a long hop. But this hop should result from a low and skimming throw; or, the ball will lose its speed. Practise throwing, without any flourish, by a single action of the arm. Any good fieldsman will explain, far better than our pen, the art of picking up a ball in the only position consistent with a quick return. A good throw often runs a man out; an advantage very rarely gained without something superior in fielding. Young players should practise throwing, and remember never to throw in a long hop when they can throw to the hands. “Many a ‘run out,’” says Mr. R. T. King, “has been lost by that injudicious practice of throwing long hops to the wicket-keeper, instead of straight, and, when necessary, hard, to his hands;” a practice that should be utterly reprobated, especially as many rising players will fancy it is the most correct, instead of the slowest, style of throwing. To throw in a long hop is only allowable when you might fail to throw a catch, and, which is worst of all, make too short a hop to the wicket-keeper. The Captain should keep an account of the best runners, throwers, clean pickers-up, and especially of men who can meet and anticipate the ball, and of those who deserve the praise given to Chatterton—“the safest pair of hands in England.”