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.
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3 comments:
Okay. I am from Australia. My name is Chantal. I am your daughter's fella's sister. I enjoyed reading your written account of your attempts to engage with the intricate game of cricket. I appreciate the difficulties; being originally from the US and the game really is not made for 'outsiders', one really needs an introduction. If only for the field placements! I only attempted to understand the game when I was ill, and lying down for 5 days listening to a game was actually the most exciting (and soothing) thing I could do. It took much time to understand the game - and the extent that I actually do by Aust. standards is not great.
So, in response may I say that your description was mostly, as far as I could tell, techincally correct (except I have never heard of the captains choosing the tea breaks. In Aust. they are set so that there are exactly 2 hours between major breaks) and accounting for the desire to be facetious (to which cricket leaves itself wide open!!) I feel you have to some degree misrepresented the game. Don't worry, I'm being both reproachful and facetious. I feel an urge to defend the game that carried me through so many hard days, whilst understanding the difficulty of engaging with the game.
It is not as ridiculous as it first appears. And why is it that people love to make fun of it so?? Is it becuase of it's snobbish qualities? Is it seen as weirdly obscure rather than having been developed over so many years??
From having listened to the radio commentary (and I recommend this for all those wishing to find their way into the game) I have come to appreciate the length of it. It becomes almost a meditation, with exciting times (and certainly some very boring ones when the game is clearly going to end in a draw but still has 6 hours of play left before everyone can pack it and go and have a beer with no one having actually 'won'. And everyone agrees with that, by the way, don't think that fans and commentators don't get bored or admit it - they do!.)
Officianadoes can see in strokes (when the batter plays at a ball) so many intricacies and so much beauty unseeable by the likes of me.
To tell the truth, watching the game bores me senseless. But listening to the commentators is great. They get a rapport going, jokes develop over the five days. They seem to have an incredible knowledge of players, matches and the game as a whole over many years. And they pass it on.
"Oh, what a beautiful stroke that was! Reminds me of Lilly in 1965! Remember that game at Lords against England?"
It becomes like a community, with your favourite commentators and with the descriptions of the game it becomes beautiful to one through their eyes.
And yes, many stupid/silly/confusing terms and, as you rightly say, laws. I must also admit that I find the whole emphasis on its being 'a gentleman's game' rather annoying. I am all for good sportsmanship, but it can go to far! Or become snobbish rather than moral. But then I love that they talk about the beauty and elegance of the game and the players, the absence of 'blokiness' is quite nice!
I also love that they stop for tea. What other game has a tea break!!
Anyway, those are my comments on your enjoyable - if slightly heretical - account of the game. I enjoyed the article very much.
It really can be fun - and in this crazy age what else gives you a legitimate reason to lie on a banana lounge for five days and drink beer - or gin and tonics for the ladies!
chantal
Thanks for the wonderful and informative comment, Chantal. Actually, one of the funniest things I ever read was Bill Bryson's rather liberal paraphrasing of a cricket match on Australian radio that was the only thing he could find while driving across the outback (In a Sunburned Country). I thought I was going to hurt myself laughing. Somehow, to the rest of us, it's a fertile field for humor.
Yeah, I kinda knew that picture was an in-joke for basketball fans. That's Gary Payton, late of the Sonics, now playing for the Miami Heat. He's famous for talking trash to referees and others. He wouldn't last a day in cricket.
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