Part 9

Every player is conscious of one particular length that puzzles him,--of one point between himself and the bowler, in which he would rather that the ball should not pitch. “There is a length-ball that almost blinds you,” said an experienced player at Lord’s. There is a length that makes many a player shut his eyes and turn away his head; “a length,” says Mr. Felix, “that brings over a man most indescribable emotions.” There are two ways to play such balls: to discriminate is difficult, and, “if you doubt, you are lost.” Let A be the farthest point to which a good player can reach, so as to plant his bat at the proper angle, at once preventing a catch, stopping a shooter, and intercepting a bailer. Then, at any point short of A, should the bat be placed, the ball may rise over the bat if held to the ground, or shoot under if the bat is a little raised. At B the same single act of planting the bat cannot both cover a bailer and stop a shooter. Every ball which the batsman can reach, as at A, may be met with a full bat forward; and, being taken at the pitch, it is either stopped or driven away with all its rising, cutting, shooting, or twisting propensities undeveloped. If not stopped at A, the ball may rise and shoot in six lines at least; so, if forced to play back, you have six things to guard against instead of one. Still, any ball you cannot cover forward, as at B, must be played back; and nearly in the attitude shown in page 115. This back play gives as long a sight of the ball as possible, and enables the player either to be up for a bailer or down for a shooter.

MORE HARD NUTS.--Why do certain lengths puzzle, and what is the nature of all this puzzling emotion? It is a sense of confusion and of doubt. At the moment of the pitch, the ball is lost in the ground; so you doubt whether it will rise, or whether it will shoot--whether it will twist, or come in straight. The eye follows the ball till it touches the ground: till this moment there is no great doubt, for its course is known to be uniform. I say no great doubt, because there is always some doubt till the ball has passed some yards from the bowler’s hand. The eye cannot distinguish the direction of a ball approaching till it has seen a fair portion of its flight. Then only can you calculate what the rest of the flight will be. Still, before the ball has pitched, the first doubt is resolved, and the batsman knows the ball’s direction; but, when once it touches the ground, the change of light alone (earth instead of air being the background) is trying to the eye. Then, at the rise, recommences all the uncertainty of a second delivery; for, the direction of the ball has once more to be ascertained, and that requires almost as much time for sight as will sometimes bring the ball into the wicket.

All this difficulty of sight applies only to the batsman; to him the ball is advancing and foreshortened in proportion as it is straight. If the ball is rather wide, or if seen, as by Point, from the side, the ball may be easily traced, without confusion, from first to last. It is the fact of an object approaching perfectly straight to you, that confuses your sense of distance. A man standing on a railway cannot judge of the nearness of the engine; nor a man behind a target of the approach of the arrow; whereas, seen obliquely, the flight is clear. Hence a long hop is not a puzzling length, because there is time to ascertain the second part of the course or rebound. A toss is easy because one course only. The tice also, and the half-volley, or any over-pitched balls, are not so puzzling, because they may be met forward, and the two parts of the flight reduced to one. Such is the philosophy of forward play, intended to obviate the batsman’s chief difficulty, which is, with the second part, or, the rebound of the ball.

The following are good rules:--

1. Meet every ball at the pitch by forward play which you can conveniently cover.

Whatever ball you can play forward, you can play safely--as by one single movement. But in playing the same ball back, you give yourself two things to think of instead of one--stopping and keeping down a bailer; and, stopping a shooter. Every ball is the more difficult to play back in exact proportion to the ease with which it might be played forward. The player has a shorter sight, and less time to see the nature of the rise; so the ball crowds upon him, affording neither time nor space for effective play. Never play back but of necessity; meet every ball forward which you can conveniently cover--I say _conveniently_, because, if the pitch of the ball cannot be reached without danger of losing your balance, misplacing your bat, or drawing your foot out of your ground, that ball should be considered out of reach, and be played back. This rule many fine players, in their eagerness to score, are apt to violate; so, if the ball rises abruptly, they are bowled or caught. There is also danger of playing wide of the ball, if you over-reach.

2. Some say, When in doubt play back. Certainly all balls may be played back; but many it is almost impracticable to play forward. But since the best forward players may err, the following hint, founded on the practice of Fuller Pilch, will suggest an excellent means of getting out of a difficulty:--Practise the art of _half-play_; that is, practise going forward to balls a little beyond your reach, and then, instead of planting your bat near the pitch, which is supposed too far distant to be effectually covered, watch for the ball about half-way, being up if it rises, and down if it shoots. By this half-play, which I learnt from one of Pilch’s pupils, I have often saved my wicket when I found myself forward for a ball out of reach; though before, I felt defenceless, and often let the ball pass either under or over my bat. Still half-play, though a fine saving clause for proficients, is but a choice of evils, and no practice for learners, as forming a bad habit. By trying too many ways, you spoil your game.

3. Ascertain the extent of your utmost reach forward, and practise accordingly. The simplest method is to fix your right foot at the crease, and try how far forward you can conveniently plant your bat at the proper angle; then, allowing that the ball may be covered at about three feet from its pitch, you will see at once how many feet you can command in front of the crease. Pilch could command from ten to twelve feet. Some short men will command ten feet; that is to say, they will safely meet forward every ball which pitches within that distance from the crease.

There are two ways of holding a bat in playing forward. The position of the hands, as of Pilch, in the frontispiece, standing at guard, will not admit of a long reach forward. But by shifting the left hand behind the bat, the action is free, and the reach unimpeded.

Every learner must practise this shifting of the left hand in forward play. The hand will soon come round naturally. Also, learn to reach forward with composure and no loss of balance. Play forward evenly and gracefully, with rather an elastic movement. Practice will greatly increase your reach. Take care you do not lose sight of the ball, as many do; and, look at the ball itself, not merely at the spot where you expect it to pitch. Much depends on commencing at the proper moment, and not being in a hurry. Especially avoid any catch or flourish. Come forward, foot and bat together, most evenly and most quietly.

Forward play may be practised almost as well in a room as in a cricket-field: better still with a ball in the path of a field. To force a ball back to the bowler or long-field by hard forward play is commonly called Driving; and driving you may practise without any bowler, and greatly improve in balance and correctness of form, and thus increase the extent of your reach, and habituate the eye to a correct discernment of the point at which forward play ends and back play begins. By practice you will attain a power of coming forward with a spring, and playing hard or driving. All fine players drive nearly every ball they meet forward, and this driving admits of so many degrees of strength that sometimes it amounts to quite a hard hit. “I once,” said Clarke, “had thought there might be a school opened for cricket in the winter months; for, you may drill a man to use a bat as well as a broad-sword.” With driving, as with half-play, be not too eager--play forward surely and steadily at first, otherwise the point of the bat will get in advance, or the hit be badly timed, and give a catch to the bowler. This is one error into which the finest forward players have sometimes gradually fallen--a vicious habit, formed from an overweening confidence and success upon their own ground. Comparing notes lately with an experienced player, we both remembered a time when we thought we could make hard and free hits even off those balls which good players play gently back to the bowler; but eventually a succession of short innings sent us back to safe and sober play.

Sundry other hits are made, contrary to every rule, by players accustomed to one ground or one set of bowlers. Many an Etonian has found that a game, which succeeded in the Shooting fields, has proved an utter failure when all was new at Lord’s or in a country match.

Every player should practise occasionally with professional bowlers; for, they look to the principle of play, and point out radical errors even in showy hits. Even Pilch will request a friend to stand by him in practice to detect any shifting of the foot or other bad habit, into which experience teaches that the best men unconsciously fall. I would advise every good player to take one or two such lessons at the beginning of the season. A man cannot see himself, and will hardly believe that he is taking up his bat across wicket, sawing across at a draw, tottering over instead of steady, moving off his ground at leg balls, or very often playing forward with a flourish instead of full on the ball, and making often most childish mistakes which need only be mentioned to be avoided.

One great difficulty, we observed, consists in correct discrimination of length and instantaneous decision. To form correctly as the ball pitches, there is time enough, but none to spare: time only to act, no time to think. So also with shooting, driving, and various kinds of exercises, at the critical moment all depends not on thought, but habit: by constant practice, the time requisite for deliberation becomes less and less, till at length we are unconscious of any deliberation at all,--acting, as it were, by intuition or instinct, for the occasion prompts the action: then, in common language, we “do it naturally,” or, have formed that habit which is “a second nature.”

In this sense, a player must form a habit of correct decision in playing forward and back. Till he plays by habit, he is not safe: the sight of the length must prompt the corresponding movement. Look at Fuller Pilch, or Mr. C. Taylor, and this rule will be readily understood; for, with such players, every ball is as naturally and instinctively received by its appropriate movement as if the player were an automaton, and the ball touched a spring: so quickly does forward play, or back, and the attitude for off-cut or leg-hit, appear to coincide with, or rather to anticipate, each suitable length. All this quickness, ease, and readiness marks a habit of correct play; and the question is, how to form such a habit.

All the calmness or composure we admire in proficients results from a habit of playing each length in one way, and in one way only. To attain this habit, measure your reach before the crease, as you begin to practise with a bowler; and, make a mark visible to the bowler, but not such as will divert your own eye.

Having fixed such a mark, let your bowler pitch, as nearly as he can, sometimes on this side of the mark, sometimes on that. After every ball, you have only to ask, Which side? and you will have demonstrative proof whether your play has been right or wrong. Constant practice, with attention to the pitch, will habituate your eye to lengths, and enable you to decide in a moment how to play.

For my own part, I have rarely practised for years without this mark. It enables me to ascertain, by referring to the bowler, where any ball has pitched. To know at a glance the exact length of a ball, however necessary, is not quite as easy to the batsman as to the bowler; and, without practising with a mark, you may remain a long time in error.

After a few days’ practice, you will become as certain of the length of each ball, and of your ability to reach it, as if you actually saw the mark, for you will carry the measurement in “your mind’s eye.”

So far well: you have gained a perception of lengths and distance; the next thing is, to apply this knowledge. Therefore, bear in mind you have a HABIT TO FORM. No doubt, many will laugh at this philosophy. Pilch does not know the “theory of moral habits,” I dare say; but he knows well enough that wild practice spoils play; and if to educated men I please to say that, wild play involves the formation of a set of bad habits to hang about you, and continually interfere with good intentions, where is the absurdity? How should you like to be doomed to play with some mischievous fellow, always tickling your elbow, and making you spasmodically play forward, when you ought to play back, or, hit round or cut, when you ought to play straight? Precisely such a mischievous sprite is a bad habit. Till you have got rid of him, he is always liable to come across you and tickle you out of your innings: all your resolution is no good. Habit is a much stronger principle than resolution. Accustom the hand to obey sound judgment, otherwise it will follow its old habit instead of your new principles.

To borrow an admirable illustration from Plato, which Socrates’ pupil remarked was rather apt than elegant,--“While habit keeps up itching, man can’t help scratching.” And what is most remarkable in bad habits of play is, that, long after a man thinks he has overcome them, by some chance association, the old trick appears again, and a man feels (oh! fine for a moralist!) _one law in his mind and another law_--or rather, let us say, he feels a certain latent spring in him ever liable to be touched, and disturb all the harmony of his cricketing economy.

Having, therefore, a habit to form, take the greatest pains that you methodically play forward to the over-pitched, and back to the under-pitched, balls. My custom was, the moment the ball pitched, to say audibly to myself “forward,” or “back.” By degrees I was able to calculate the length sooner and sooner before the pitch, having, of course, the more time to prepare; till, at last, no sooner was the ball out of the bowler’s hand, than ball and bat were visibly preparing for each other’s reception. After some weeks’ practice, forward and back play became so easy, that I cease to think about it: the very sight of the ball naturally suggesting the appropriate movement; in other words, I had formed a habit of correct play in this particular.

“_Suave mari magno_,” says Lucretius; that is, it is delightful, from the vantage ground of science, to see others floundering in a sea of error, and to feel a happy sense of comparative security;--so, was it no little pleasure to see the many wickets that fell, or the many catches which were made, from defects I had entirely overcome.

For, without the habit aforesaid, a man will often shut his eyes, and remove his right fingers, as if the bat were hot, and then look behind him and find his wicket down. A second, will advance a foot forward, feel and look all abroad, and then try to seem unconcerned, if no mischief happens. A third, will play back with the shortest possible sight of the ball, and hear his stumps rattle before he has time to do anything. A fourth, will stand still, a fixture of fuss and confusion, with the same result; while a fifth, will go gracefully forward, with straightest possible bat, and the most meritorious elongation of limb, and the ball will pass over the shoulder of his bat, traverse the whole length of his arms, and back, and colossal legs, tipping off the bails, or giving a chance to the wicket-keeper. Then, as Poins says of Falstaff, “The virtue of this jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us.” For, when a man is out by this simple error in forward or backward play, it would take a volume to record the variety of his excuses.

The reason so much has been said about Habit is, partly, that the player may understand that bad habits are formed as readily as good; that a repetition of wild hits, or experimentalising with hard hits off good lengths, may disturb your quick perception of critical lengths, and give you an uncontrollable habit of dangerous hitting.

THE SHOOTER.--This is the surest and most destructive ball that is bowled. Stopping shooters depends on correct position, on a habit of playing at the ball and not losing it after the pitch, and on a quick discernment of lengths.

The great thing is decision; to doubt is to lose time, and to lose time is to lose your wicket. And this decision requires a correct habit of forward and back play. But since prevention is better than cure, by meeting at the pitch every ball within your reach, you directly diminish the number, not only of shooters, but of the most dangerous of all shooters, because of those which afford the shortest time to play. But, supposing you cannot cover the ball at the pitch, and a shooter it must be, then--

The first thing is, to have the bat always pointed back to the wicket, as in _fig. 1._ page 115; thus you will drop down on the ball, and have all the time and space the case admits of. If the bat is not previously thrown back, when the ball shoots the player has two operations,--the one, to put the bat back: and the other, to ground it: instead of one simple drop down alone. I never saw any man do this better than Wenman, when playing the North and South match at Lord’s in 1836. Redgate was in his prime, and almost all his balls were shooting down the hill; and, from the good time and precision with which Wenman dropped down upon some dozen shooters, with all the pace and spin for which Redgate was famous--the ground being hardened into brick by the sun--I have ever considered Wenman equal to any batsman of his day.

The second thing is, to prepare for back play with the first possible intimation that the ball will require it. A good player descries the enemy, and drops back as soon as the ball is out of the bowler’s hand.

The third--a golden rule for batsmen--is: expect a good length to shoot, and you will have time, if it rises: but if you expect it to rise, you are too late if it shoots.

THE BAIL BALL.--First, the attitude is that of _fig. 1._ The bat thrown back to the bails is indispensable for quickness: if you play a bailer too late, short slip is placed on purpose to catch you out; therefore watch the ball from the bowler’s hand, and drop back on your wicket in good time. Also, take the greatest pains in tracing the ball every inch from the hand to the bat. Look hard for the twist, or a “break” will be fatal. To keep the eye steadily on the ball, and not lose it at the pitch, is a hint even for experienced players: so make this the subject of attentive practice.

The most difficult of all bailers are those which ought not to be allowed to come in as bailers at all, those which should be met at the pitch. Such over-pitched balls give neither time nor space, if you attempt to play them back.

Every length ball is difficult to play back, just in proportion to the ease with which it could be covered forward. A certain space, from nine to twelve feet, before the crease is, to a practised batsman, so much _terra firma_, whereon pitching every ball is a safe stop or score. Practise with the chalk mark, and learn to make this _terra firma_ as wide as possible.

THE DRAW is so called, I suppose, because, when perfectly made, there is no draw at all. Look at _fig. 2._ The bat is not drawn across the wicket, but hangs perpendicularly from the wrists; though the wrists of a good player are never idle, but bring the bat to meet the ball a few inches, and the hit is the natural angle formed by the opposing forces. “Say also,” suggests Clarke, “that the ball meeting the bat, held easy in the hand, will turn it a little of its own force, and the wrists _feel_ when to help it.” This old rule hardly consists with the principle of meeting the ball.

The Draw is the spontaneous result of straight play about the two leg stumps: for if you begin, as in _fig. 1._, with point of bat thrown back true to middle stump, you cannot bring the bat straight to meet a leg-stump ball without the line of the bat and the line of the ball forming an angle in crossing each other; and, by keeping your wrists well back, and giving a clear space between body and wicket, the Draw will follow of itself.

The bat must not be purposely presented edgeways in the least degree. Draw a full bat from the line of the middle stump to meet a leg-stump ball, and, as the line of the ball must make a very acute angle, you will have the benefit of a hit without lessening your defence. “A Draw is very dangerous with a ball that would hit the leg stump,” some say; but only when attempted in the wrong way; for, how can a full bat increase your danger?

This mode of play will also lead to, what is most valuable but most rare, a correct habit of passing every ball the least to the Near side of middle stump clear away to the On side. This blocking between legs and wickets, first, obviates the ball going off legs into wicket; secondly, it keeps many awkward balls out of Slip’s hands; and, thirdly, it makes single runs off the best balls.

Too little, now-a-days, is done with the Draw; too much is attempted by the “blind swipe,” to the loss of many wickets.

Every man in a first-rate match who loses his wicket, while swiping round, ought to pay a forfeit to the Reward Fund.

The only balls for the Draw are those which threaten the wicket. To shuffle backwards half a yard, scraping the bat on the ground, or to let the ball pass one side the body with a blind swing on the other, are hits which to mention is to reprove.

Our good friend, Mr. Abraham Bass,--and what cricketer in the Midland Counties defers not to his judgment?--thinks that the Draw cannot be made quite so much of as we say, except by a left-handed man. The short-pitched balls which some draw, he thinks, are best played back to middle On, by a turn of the left arm to the On side.

Here Mr. Bass mentions a very good hit--a good variety--and one, too, little practised: his hit and the Draw are each good in their respective places. To discriminate every shade is impossible. “Mr. Taylor had most hits I ever saw,” said Caldecourt, “and was a better player even than Lord Frederick; though Mr. Taylor’s hits were not all _legitimate_:” so much the better; new combinations of old hits.

As to the old-fashioned hit under leg, Mr. Mynn, at Leicester, in 1836, gave great effect to one variety of it; a hit which Pilch makes useful, though hard to make elegant. Some say, with Caldecourt, such balls ought always to be drawn: but is it not a useful variety?

DRAW OR GLANCE FROM OFF STUMP.--What is true of the Leg stump is true of the Off, care being taken of catch to Slips. Every ball played from two Off stumps, by free play of wrist and left shoulder well over, should go away among the Slips. Play hard on the ball; the ball must never hit a dead bat; and every so-called block, from off stumps, must be a hit.