The Tube

I had never ridden an underground train before my first visit to London. My years in the Los Angeles area were happily behind me long before they built theirs, and my one short visit to New York was accomplished without the subway experience. I admit to having been somewhat intimidated by the idea of the Underground, but one visit convinced me there couldn’t be a simpler or faster way of getting around a big city. If you know which station you’re in and which one you’re going to, and if you can read, you can get there with little or no hassle for a little more than the price of a bus fare, and a lot less than a taxi.

While waiting to pick up a Britrail pass before a long-ago visit here, I overheard a travel agent telling a couple of clients that they might find the tube too intimidating, and perhaps they’d be better off learning the bus system to get around town. It was all I could do not to rush into her office and set them all straight (and you know I could, too…). I’ll grant you that aboveground travel has its advantages, especially for tourists, but even the most casual tourist owes it to her experience of London to check out tube travel, and anyone interested in getting from one place to another quickly and easily had better either pony up for cab fare or head underground.

One of the things that makes tube travel simple is the universe-famous Tube Map, developed by an electrical draughtsman who did for the Metropolitan Railway what he did for electrical circuits: made it simple and easy to follow. By assigning a different color to each railway “wire,” and simplifying the geography considerably, Harry Beck created, 73 years ago, a travel diagram that’s been the inspiration for any transport map you’ve ever seen. Inside every train carriage is an even more simplified diagram of the line you’re riding, with the wire stretched out into a straight line. From any seat you can glance up and see where you are along your journey.

Everyone understands, of course, that the map is not the territory, and the Tube Map doesn’t represent the Underground exactly. But it wasn’t until last year, when Transport for London unveiled the actual map (see photo) that Londoners understood what a simplification it truly was. You can be sure they forgot again as soon as they possibly could.

Riding during rush hours can be a real sardine-tin experience, and during heat waves like the one we’ve been having here the last few weeks, you’ll hear recordings warning you to carry water. Last week a man was mugged for a 40p bottle of water by a well-dressed fellow-passenger whose thirst overcame him on a day when the recorded temperature underground was 47C (117F). When he wouldn’t surrender the water voluntarily, the aggressor snatched the bottle and drank from it until the train stopped at Bank, then he got off with it and walked away. I’d say carry some for yourself and some for your mugger.

What I Know About Cricket

Right: This man has no future in cricket.

I have not yet been to a cricket match, but living as I do within a half-mile of the Kennington Oval, I have listened to the roar of the crowd on a few occasions, and it made me wonder: suppose you were attending a cricket match and your team did something advantageous, like… score. How would you know? This burning question has led me to make a serious study of a sport that probably has more fans worldwide than baseball, but which is tragically misunderstood in less civilized nations.

There are no rules in cricket, but since 1744 there have been Laws. Built into these Laws is something called the Spirit of the Game, which is not entirely definable; players are nonetheless required to abide by it. One is not allowed to dispute an official’s decision, which means Gary Payton could never play cricket. No violence is permitted, which leaves out Ron Artest as well. Good thing us unruly Yanks have the NBA.

Violence in cricket consists of rudeness to an opponent, an official, or anyone, really. Also questioning a decision, or spiking the ball. Since rudeness is not covered in the Laws, penalties are decided on the spot by a referee. No-one knows what the penalty for actual violence might be, because it doesn’t happen.

A cricket side is made up of a bowler, fielders, and batsmen. A bowler bowls. Overhand. He does not pitch. The “pitch” is the 22 yards of ground between the batsmen.

Before a match, the captains meet up to decide on the boundaries of the playing field, how long the match will last, and what time everyone will retire from the field for tea. You probably think I’m kidding. A spur-of-the-moment match might be over the same day it begins; more leisurely ones can take up to five days to finish, and the team with the most runs doesn’t always win.

The batsman stands in front of something called a wicket. Breaking a wicket dismisses the batsman, and doing so is also called a wicket, and a wicket not having been broken, and the batsman not being out can also, if one chooses, be called a wicket. Now you begin to see why Americans often come away from a cricket match convinced they’ve just had one put over on them by thousands of practical jokers who showed up for no other purpose.

The bowler’s objective is to break the wicket, and the batsman’s to prevent him from doing so. The fielders (who can be deep, backwards, or silly) run around and ask the umpire to “give” the batsman out, because unless they do, he can’t. There are two batsmen on the field at a time, on opposite ends of the pitch, and now and again they run back and forth to one another’s wickets a few times. Because there are eleven players to a side, eventually there’s only one batsman left, who neither bats nor runs, but rather stands there until the captains tell him to go home.

In addition to bowlers, batsmen, fielders, umpires, and a referee, the following things have also been reported by reliable observers during a cricket match: Dollies, Ducks, Featherbeds, Gardening, Lollipops, Maidens, Minefields, Puddings, Rabbits, Yorkers, and Zooters. This is only a partial list, but should help you understand the innate seriousness of the sport, and the dangers faced by the brave athletes who play it.

I hope this explanation will further the cause of friendship between our two great nations. Perhaps instead of sending more troops to Iraq, Tony Blair would like to send a few cricket sides to America to teach the game to young Yanks. It couldn’t be any more ridiculous, and barring mishaps with Minefields (and for all I know, Zooters), the death toll should be far less.