—“si quid fricti ciceris probat et nucis emptor;”
that is, if the swillers of half-and-half and smokers of pigtail,—a preponderating influence and large majority of voices,—applaud a hit, it does not follow that it is a good one: nor, if they cry “Butterfingers!” need the miss be a bad one. No credit for good intentions!—no allowance for a twisting catch and the sun enough to singe your eyelids!—the hit that wins the “half-and-half” is the finest hit for that select assemblage, whose “sweet voices” quite drown the nicer judgment of the pavilion, even as vote by ballot would swamp the House of Lords.
Long-stop.—If you would estimate the value of a practised long-stop, only try to play a match with a bad one. Still, patient merit is rarely appreciated; for, what is done very well looks so easy. Long-stopping requires the cleanest handling and quickest return. The best in form I ever saw was an Oxonian about 1838,—a Mr. Napier. One of the worst in form, however, was the best of his day in effect,—Good; for he took the ball sideways. A left-handed man, as Good was, has a great advantage in stopping slips under-leg. Among the ancients, Old Beagley was the man. But there is many a man whose praise is yet unsung; for when Mr. E. H. Budd saw Mr. R. Stothert at Lansdown, Bath, stop right and left to Mr. Kirwan’s bowling, he alluded to Beagley’s doings, and said Beagley never came up to R. Stothert. Mr. Marshall (jun.) in the same Club stopped for Mr. Marcon without one bye through a long innings. The gentleman who opposed the firmest front, however, for years, to Messrs. Kirwan and Fellowes,—bowlers, who have broken studs into the breast-bone of a long-stop, and then, to make amends, taken fourpenny-bits of skin off his shins, is Mr. Hartopp, pronounced, by Mr. Charles Burt,—himself undeniable at that point,—to be the best for a continuance he has ever seen. Vigeat vireatque! His form is good; and he works with great ease and cool attention. Among the most celebrated at present are Mr. C. Ridding, W. Pilch, Guy, and Dean.
On Long-stopping, Mr. Hartopp kindly writes:—“No place requires so much patient perseverance: the work is so mechanical. I have seen many a brilliant fieldsman there for a short innings, while the bowling is straight and rarely passes; but, let him have to humdrum through 150 or 200 runs, and he will get bored, tired, and careless; then, runs come apace. Patience is much wanted, if a sharp runner is in; for he will often try a long-stop’s temper by stealing runs; in such a case, I have found it the best plan to prepare the wicket-keeper for a hard throw to his, the nearer, wicket; for, if this does not run the man out, it frightens him down to steadier running. Throwing over may sometimes answer; but a cunning runner will get in your way, or beat a ball thrown over his head. Long-stop’s distance must often be as much as four or five yards less for a good runner than for a bad. Short distance does not make stopping more difficult; because, it gives fewer hops and twists to the ball; but a longer distance enables you to cover more tips and draws, and saves leg-byes. Good runners ought to cross if the ball is in the least fumbled; but clean fielding, with quick underhand return, would beat the Regent Street Pet himself, did he attempt a run. Long-stop is wholly at fault if he requires the wicket-keeper to stand aside: this would spoil the stumping. As to gloves and pads, let every one please himself; we must choose between gloves and sore hands; but wrist gauntlets are of great use, and no hindrance to catches, which often come spinning to the long-stop, and otherwise difficult.
“As to form, dropping on one knee is a bad position for any fielding: you are fixed and left behind by any sudden turn of the ball. The best rule is to watch the ball from the bowler’s hand and move accordingly, and you will soon find for how much bias to allow; and beware of a slope like Lord’s: it causes a greater deviation than you would imagine in thirty yards. Just as the ball comes, draw yourself up heels together (thus many a shooter have I stopped), and, picking as neatly as you can, pitch it back to wicket-keeper as if it were red hot. Quick return saves many byes, and keeps up an appearance which prevents the attempt. The same discrimination of lengths is required with hands as with bat. Long hops are easy: a tice is as hard almost as a shooter; half-volley is a teaser. Such balls as pitch up to you should be ‘played forward’ by pushing or sweeping your hands out to meet them; even if you do not field them clean, still you will often save a run by forcing the ball up towards the wicket-keeper, and having it before you.
“A Long-stop wants much command of attention,—eye never off the ball; and this, so little thought of, is the one great secret of all fielding: you must also play your hardest and your very best; a habit which few have energy to sustain. If you miss a ball, rattle away after it; do not stand, as many do, to apologise by dumb show. If the ball bumps up at the moment of handling, throw your chin up and let it hit your chest as full as it may: this is Horace’s advice;—
‘Fortiaque adversis opponite pectora rebus.’
“Long-stop should assist the backing up on the On side, and must start at once to be in time. The attention he has to sustain is very trying to the eyes, especially in windy weather.”
Wicket-keeping.—If not born with better ocular nerves than the average, I doubt whether any degree of practice would make a first-rate wicket-keeper. Still, since Lillywhite succeeded in training one of the Winchester eleven in Wicket-keeping, by bowling accordingly, wicket-keeping seems an art to be acquired. To place the hands accurately, right or left, according to the pitch of the ball, and to take that ball, however fast, unbaulked by the bat or body of the player, is really very difficult. But what if we add—and how few, very few, can accomplish it!—taking the ball in spite of an unexpected bias or turn from the bat. Still, practice will do much where nature has done a little; but with modern bowling you want a man both “rough and ready.” Mr. Herbert Jenner was “the ready man;” so also are Messrs. Anson, Nicholson, and W. Ridding, and Box; but Wenman was ready and rough too. He had fine working qualities, and could stand a deal of pounding, day after day: others have had a short life and a merry one, and mere transient popularity; but, for wicket-keeping under difficulties, give me Wenman. At wicket-keeping, the men of labour ought to beat the men of leisure. Hard hands are essential: and, hard hands can only come from hard work. Wenman’s calling, that of a wheelwright and carpenter, is in his favour. “I found my hands quite seasoned,” writes an amateur, “after a two-month’s work at the oar.” Chatterton fears no pace in bowling. But Lockyer’s name now stands highest of all: the certainty and facility with which he takes Wisden’s bowling, both with right and left, can hardly be surpassed. We leave wicket-keepers to emulate Lockyer, especially in his every-day lasting and working qualities against fast bowling, for that is the difficulty. Like Wenman, he does not stand too near, so he is well placed for catches. Moreover, they both have weight and power—a decided advantage: a feather weight may be shaken. Winterton, of Cambridge, carries great weight with him at the wicket. This gives a decided advantage over a player of the weight of Mr. Ridding: albeit, in the Players’ Match in 1849, Mr. Ridding stumped Hillyer off Mr. Fellowes’s bowling, and that with an Off-ball nearly wide! Hammond was the great wicket-keeper of former days: but then, the bowling was often about Clarke’s pace. Browne, of Brighton, and Osbaldeston put wicket-keepers to flight; but the race reappeared in—the finest ever seen for moderate pace—Mr. Jenner, famed not only for the neatest stumping, but for the marvellous quantity of ground he could cover, serving, as a near Point, Leg, and Slip, as well as Wicket-keeper. Box’s powers, though he has always been a first-rate man, are rather limited to pace.—“Have me to bowl,” Lillywhite used to say, “Box to keep wicket, and Pilch to hit, and then you’ll see Cricket;” for Box is best with Lillywhite.—As to making mistakes as wicket-keeper, what mortal combination of flesh and blood can help it. One of the most experienced Long-stops, after many years at Lord’s and in the country, says, to take even one out of three of possible chances, has proved, in his experience, good average wicket-keeping; for, think of leg shooters! though Mr. Ridding could take even them wonderfully well.
“I have seen,” writes Mr. E. S. E. H., “Mr. C. Taylor—who was capital at running in, and rarely stumped out, having an excellent eye, and if the twist of the ball beat him it was enough to beat the wicket-keeper also—I have seen him, after missing a ball, walk quietly back to his ground, poor wicket-keeper looking foolish and vexed at not stumping him, and the ring, of course, calling him a muff.” Really, wicket-keepers are hardly used; the spectators little know that a twist which misses the bat, may as easily escape the hand.