You must have firm feet—the left foot must have nails that bite the ground well, especially near the boot’s toe; you must have strong hands—they may be hardened by salt, etc., or, in case of sore places, may be protected by adhesive plaister round the finger or hand (this prevents painful friction). Sprains may be treated by water or massage or radiant light and heat.
Having attended to such things, study pitches—their soft or hard spots, the trees, etc., behind the bowler’s arm, the direction of the sun, of the wind—in fact, all details that a careful general must notice. Spofforth used to make a point of finding out “the pace of the wicket, even if his first effort cost him dear.” One or two balls just off the pitch, before play begins, may save such runs. Don’t bowl these or the early ones too fast; the Public School Racquet representatives at Queen’s slash about from the very moment that they enter the court. This is silly. Start gently; increase the severity by degrees.
At the beginning of an innings or of a new batsman’s innings pitch the ball well up. A yorker is among the most effective attacks (except to W. G. and a few others); even a half-volley is often useful, or a full-pitch on the body, but not a long hop.
Correct your mistakes of direction, length, and so on, by exaggerating a little in the opposite direction.
To a slogger a straight ball—unless it be a yorker—is not the best, as a rule, especially if he runs out; a ball to the off may be most useful, for a slogger generally runs out straight down the pitch rather than towards the side (in which case he would turn an off-ball into a straight ball). With W. G.’s action round the wicket, a ball on the leg-side may be just the thing. A break to the off is generally needed, so as to tempt a catch to cover or third man.
Do not mind having your “head-balls” hit. Mr. A. G. Steel’s words must be borne in mind constantly, at least for ordinary occasions when the main object is not to keep the runs down. He says:—“When a bowler is put on to bowl by his captain, it is his duty to do everything in his power to dislodge the batsman. It is really quite a secondary consideration for him whether many or few runs are being made off his bowling.” As a sequel to this, he urges that “a slow bowler should try every wile that can possibly be attempted. By adopting slow bowling he has undertaken to use ‘the wisdom of the serpent’ in the guise of the ‘harmlessness of the dove,’ and has sacrificed pace to cunning and thought.”
If the bowler be very brave, he will feed the strong stroke of the batsman. I often find this plan effective in Racquets and Tennis. The opponent tries “just one too many,” or tries to excel beyond his ability. But of course it would be a greater error to forget the fieldmen’s poor hands and to bowl the batsman into practice and sure sight, than it would be to bowl merely for maidens, unless the other bowler is playing ninepins with the stumps, or unless defensive bowling is required at the close finish to a match, or in order to excite a batsman to impatience.
Most experiments should have been already made at the nets or in practice-games. It is there that you should learn how to lead up to a killing ball, as the Lawn Tennis or Chess player does, rather than always to spring the very best on the batsman at once. To plan each ball deliberately beforehand, to let each have a definite purpose, involves not only these previous trials, but also a good memory, an absence of hurry, a refusal to despair.
Despair is almost natural when chances have been missed. I remember a season of College Cricket during which I got about 130 wickets, and had over 60 chances missed. I had to console myself by imagining each chance—mostly to the sleepy slips—to be a wicket. That may console one slightly.
Another consolation is to remember that each fresh batsman is a fresh beginning to the game. He comes in unready, a hope to the bowler.