STODDART’S TEAM.

Evening Star, Issue 10399, 21 August 1897, Page 3 (Supplement)

STODDART’S TEAM.

The July number of the ‘ Windsor ’ is of special interest to cricketers, since it has two well-written articles from the pens of noted players. Mr C. B. Fry, dealing with ‘ Cricketers I Have Met,’ has something to say about the members of Stoddart’s team, who will be sailing in a few days for Australia, and his remarks on that head are worthy of reproduction. It is quite evident that he regards the Indian Prince as a tower of strength, aud looks to him to astonish the natives. This is what he has to say about “ Ranji ” ;- “ The brightest figure in the cricket world to day is Kumar Bhri Ranjitsinhji, whom we all love for his supple wrist, silk shirt, aud genial ways. A volume might be written about him, for he contains much beside runs. Viewed as a cricketer, he is decidedly a subject for appreciation except to bowlers. He makes enormous scores with the consistency so dear to the British heart, and makes them by such original methods. There is little of the old school about Ranji. But then he is a genius, and none the worse for it. There is that in his strokes which baffles the most confident analyst. One feels inclined to say, with a certain profane cricketer: ‘Gome, Rmji, this isn’t cricket j it’s infernal juggling !’ But, fortunately, it is cricket, and the very best. No one ever wants him to stop getting runs. It is so exciting to wonder what is Doming next, and there is no waiting. Even bowlers find a sneaking pleasure in seeing him spoil their analysis. They want to discover how he does it. Fielders do not mind scouting out, as W.G. calls it, for hours when Ranji is in. He provides fun and new sensations. As for the man in the crowd, ho has come many miles for this, and is proportionately pleased. From the average batsman’s point of view Ranji is a marvel and a despair. * Yes, he can play,’ said someone once; ‘ but he must have a lot of Satan in him.’ Certainly one would not be surprised to see a brown curve burnt in the grass where one of his cuts has travelled, or blue flame shine round hia bat in the making of one of those leg strokes. Yet there is nothing Satanic about Ranji except his skill. He is mellow and kind and single hearted, and has not a spark of jealousy in his composition. No one has a keener eye for what is good in other people; the better they play the more he likes it. He is a cricketer to the tips of hia , slim fingers, and an artist with an artist’s eye for the game. With the stroke that scores four to leg when the ball was meant to go over the bowler’s head he has no sympathy. He is very amusing re the subject of what he calls ‘cuts to leg.’ Apart from their value to his side, Ranji’s big innings please him in proportion as each stroke approaches perfection. He tries to make every stroke a thing of beauty in itself, and he does mean so well by the ball while he is in. His great success is partly due to this attitude of mind; but there are other reasons why he is, on all but the stickiest of wickets, the best bat now playing. He starts with one or two enormous advantages, which he has pressed home. He has a wonderful power of sight, which enables him to judge the flight of a ball in the air an appreciable fraction of a second sooner than any other batsman, aud probably a trifle more accurately. He can, therefore, decide in better time what stroke is wanted, and can make sure of getting into the right position to make it. So he is rarely caught, as most of us are, doing two things at once—moving into an attitude and playing the hall simultaneously. Even cases where bodily movement is part of the stroke he is the gainer, for besides quickness of judgment he has an extraordinary quickness of execution, Practically he has no personal error. His desire to act and his action seem to coincide. This enables him to make safely strokes that for others to dream of attempting would be folly. But with far leas natural quickness Ranji would have been a great cricketer for the simple reason that he is a great observer, with the faculty tor digesting observations and acting on them. He takes nothing on trust. He sees a thing, makes it his own, and develops it. Many of his innumerable strokes wore learnt from other players, but in process of being thought out and practised have improved past recognition. This is partly due to his natural powers—eye, quickness, and elasticity—and partly to his hatred of leaving anything he takes up before bringing it to the highest pitch of which he is capable. At present he is engaged upon a new stroke that makes his friends’ hair stand on end. Before the season is over ho will have scored many a hundred runs with it. ‘As if he hadn’t enough strokes already,’ sighs William Murdoch. Ranji has made a science of taking liberties. One may fairly suspect him of regarding Richardson’s beat ball as bowled in the interests of cutting and driving rather than with a view of hitting the slicks. Not that he ever despises bowling, however cavalierly he may seem to treat it. While at the wickets he takes it entirely under hia own management. It is a musical instrument upon which he plays, often improvising a block of stone, which be carves into shape to his taste,

not with vague smashing blows, but with swift, fitm, skilful strokes. His work has a fine finish ; there is nothing prude or • amateurish about it. And such a touch 1 It may be of interest to know that Ranji worked very hard, indeed, at cricket. Some of his strokes have coat months of careful net practice. He does nothing blindly, . He thinks about the game, star: a a theory, and proceeds to find out whit use it is. Some of his strokes were discovered by accident. For instance, his inimitable playing began thus; When a boy he started with the usual, fault of running away from every fast ball that threatened to nit him. But instead of edging off towards square-leg as most boys do, he used, with characteristic originality, to slip across the wicket towards point. Suddenly he found out that by moving the left'leg across towards the off, keeping his bat out leg side ot it, and facing the ball quite squarely with his body, he could watch the ball on to the bat and play it away to the leg with a twist of the wrist, hi owadays he can place to leg, within a foot of where he wishes almost any ball that pitches between wicket and wicket. _ His back play is as safe as a castle, and he scores with it repeatedly. His idea is that to be a good bat a mastery of both back and forward play is necessary, but of the two the former is the most important. He has a slight prejudice against forward play for forcing strokes. There is a moment in the forward stroke when the ball is _put of sight and the stroke is being played on faith, so that if the ball does anything unexpected, or the judgment is at all at fault, it is a mere chance whether the stroke is good or bad. This opinion is amply borne out by the fact that players vrho depend entirely upon forward strokes cannot make runs consistently except on true wickets. Why does he ever get out ? Perhaps he knows himself. Tnere may be reasons, but they are not apparent.” Of Stanley Jackson, who is expected to do great things, he writes:—“He knows most things about cricket. He and Lionel Palairet, two rival university captains of a year or two ago, stand out a head and shoulders above the younger generation of batsmen, with the exception of Ranji and Archie Macl&ren. . , Jackson is undoubtedly the best all-round cricketer of the day, and is probably the very bssb batsman on a sticky wicket now that Arthur Shrewsbury has given up playing regularly. Some people might offer Hayward as a serious rival in all - round excellence, but the Surrey professional is not quite as good a bat, and no better a bowler. Like Ranji, Jackson is very safe in his back play, and can use it as a means of scoring as well as of defence. He is clever in placing the ball away to the on-side both with drives and wrist strokes. He does not use the ordinary stroke forward much, though he stops many difficult balls with a ‘ halfcock’ stroke something between back and forward. His driving is exceptionally clean and fine. Few players score more rapidly than he, though his style is very safe. He always gives au impression of being all there, and having a very definite idea of what ought to be done and how to do it. Nothing excites him much; nothing can put him off his guard.” ' Mr Alfred Gibson’s paper is in an anecdotal vein, and though he has a few stale chestnuts he manages to tell some stories that are new. Here are a couple of them:—

lo the way of cricket yarns, however, I think that told me by George Lohmann to be the funniest. It was iu an un-country match in Austraha, of course—all tne funny things happen there I-and Pilling finely stumped a batsman of a ball from George. To the general amazement the umpire stentoriously gave “Not out I” When asked if he knew the game he smiled sardonically. He said; Bowling I hold with, but when It comes to bowling a man from behind—no, you don t catch Joe Robinson napping even if you do come from England 1 ” , At Eastbourne I was talking to Jones (Adelaide s lightning express and was joined by a friend. The conversation turned to cricket, and my friend suddenly electrified both of us by asking: And do you think Jones, the Australian, throws? I hurriedly said that It was a matter of opinion for the umpire, but Jones gravely ventured the theory that Jones throws every alternate ball. '‘But," he added, *' 1 have never seen him bowl. When I happen to play aijainst him I will soon call the umpire’s attention.” Subsequently I told my friend that he had been speakmg to Jones, and he suddenly departed for another seaside.

Do you remember that visit of Ranji’s to Yorkshire while he was touring with the Cambridge Cassandra? The opposition side were secretly informed that Ranji knew not a word of English except 4 How’s that?” “Yes" and 44 N0." The black chap" made a big score, and he was surprised at the open and rather embarrassing criticism of his play by the fieldsmen. One of them humorously suggested lynching, and when Ranji was struck by a rising ball the bowler audily expressed the hope that that would knock some of the steam out of the/ 4 darkey" At the subsequent luncheon Ranji made a long speech in giving a toast, and during this the faces of the opposition side were studies !

A match was being played in a country district of Lancashire, ana in an emergency a local farmer’s boy was put in to keep the score, his duties being carefully explained to him. When the last man on the side had been caught the fielders darted in to see the score, and they found —the book blank I That was the condition, too. of the'‘scorer’s" face. “The truth is.’’ he said deliberately, I was sae eenterested in the wee sport that I quite forgot tae mak* the crosses. But it disna matter—that wee laddie wl‘ the red face Is the smartest runner among ye! ’’