First of all, unless we are genius-players, we need a knowledge of bowling; we need not only to see the bowler’s wrist and fingers, but also to get an idea of what will happen to the ball when it has left the fingers. In Tennis I never knew what was going to happen to a service until I learnt how to serve. Otherwise I played as if there would be no special cut or twist or drag. So practice in bowling may give the best knowledge of bowling for the batsman’s purpose. Take a Lawn Tennis ball, and study the ways of producing various breaks, etc.—I recommend a Lawn Tennis ball because it shows the break more clearly, and can be used in a room; then produce these breaks with a Cricket ball (don’t let it loose) before a large mirror. After a time you will know what to expect when you see certain signs, such as the middle and third finger curled inwards against the bowler’s palm. Besides, when you have yourself bowled certain balls, you will know where the batsman generally hits them, and what faults he generally makes. You can avoid these faults, while on the other hand you can see at once, when you go in, where the fielding offers a gap. It is not every bowler who knows his own weak spots.
As a wicket-keeper one might learn still more about batting than one could as a bowler. It is amazing to me that so few wicket-keepers can bat even with moderate success. They seem to degenerate, like the idle watchers, with too much watching and too much “knowledge!” The wicket-keeper sees most of the game, and especially the batsman’s faults and the bowler’s merits of break, spin, change of pace, and so on. He has to watch the bowler’s wrist and fingers. He should know precisely what balls should be left alone.
Only a few degrees less useful for batting is a knowledge of fielding in all parts of the field, though every fielder should have one or two specialities. The good fielder, when he bats, can remember the curl of the ball hit to third man; he can observe cover-point’s attitude of slackness and steal an easy run, for he knows that a sloucher cannot run him out.
And to watch a game well—that may be as valuable a help for batting as bowling, wicket-keeping, or fielding. Shrewsbury will observe the play and its many niceties—the duel between a good bowler and a good batsman—from various parts of the field as he walks about; he will study length, pace, curl, the batsman’s weakness. Some watchers appear to see all the faults. They don’t play, but they may be made very useful as teachers, even if they only teach how to watch. One should watch the game not only as a whole, but also player by player; and in a single player one should observe the bat alone, whether it be straight or not; the left foot; the left elbow; the right leg; and the results on play.
All-roundness is thus nearly a necessity for full success in batting, unless one is a genius-player. It is quite a necessity for full enjoyment. It is also a duty towards the team. But, besides its effects on batting, it has still more obvious effects on bowling and fielding themselves.
Bowling should be tried and practised by every member of the team, for the sake of the team as well as of the self. It is a pleasure to the bowler, if it be well done. Were proof needed, why else do so many captains so often put themselves on to bowl? Perhaps it may be a smaller pleasure than batting, somewhat as to besiege an enemy may be a smaller pleasure than to resist the siege or to make a sally. But bowling allows more errors—a single bad ball, unlike a single error in batting, need not be the end of the performance. Anyhow, bowling is a pleasant change from fielding, and gives one an extra chance of playing for a team. And, unless one plays for a team, Cricket is not much sport! A fair bowler is becoming more and more useful to his side every year, with these billiard-table wickets.
Wicket-keeping offers a similar inducement. At the last moment Jones fails—he hurts his thumb—why shouldn’t he? “Well,” says the captain, “Smith (that’s you) can keep wicket a bit.” You are now, for the time, in the team.
The same will apply to fielding also. To take an extreme case, an inferior field has to be terribly superior with the bat or ball or both if he wants to get a place in a Yorkshire or Australian eleven. For his own sake, as well as for the sake of his side, a boy or man must be safe and smart in the field. The work is often dull—six overs without any ball, but one can watch the bat and study where the man is weak. Or one can imagine oneself as the fielder to whom the ball is hit. In case this shall appeal to you, patient alertness and long waiting to pounce on an opportunity, are makers of character, as General Grant proved, and of money, as the army of American financiers show weekly. Fielding is worth doing well, and therefore worth practising well, whether with an india-rubber ball against a wall (for stopping and for catching), or with any ball and a stump or stick. Let two players, as we have suggested, stand on opposite sides of it, and throw in at it, varying the distance, and occasionally sending catches instead. A third player can act as a wicket-keeper or as a bowler receiving the throw-in. If I were a captain I should encourage this kind of thing; I should look about for smart fields, and get them to practise in this and other ways. I should also get them to bowl a bit. I should not always pick out the batsmen and bowlers first, and neglect the fielders. A Vernon Royle, a Lohmann, a Gunn are worth a place in a team apart from other merits. They save runs not only by catching, not only by backing up, not only by stopping hits, not only by running in, but by their reputation—the batsmen simply dared not run a short one when Royle was at cover—and by their contagious influence.
I think that all-roundness justifies itself, and therefore all-round practice justifies itself, even from the point of view of the selfish batsman who wants the best possible innings, quite apart from one’s increased enjoyment as a change bowler, perhaps as a wicket-keeper, certainly as a fielder, and no less certainly as a watcher.
But how? What is the secret of all-roundness? This book will offer advice to many, and hope to not a few. If you have not yet paid attention to the very foundations, the very A B C of good play (especially of batting and fielding), such as the positions and movements of the feet, the full extensions of the limbs, the body-swing, the balance and prompt recovery, then you need not yet despair. Practice in these things will be far from useless for general athletic fitness; there is scarcely a game but absolutely involves them.