TOLD IN WISDEN

Manawatu Standard, Volume LIV, Issue 157, 4 June 1934, Page 8

TOLD IN WISDEN

MIRACLES OF CRICKET. A BOY’S FIVE HAT-TRICKS. Once upon a time Wisden was published in December, and then (writes “Cricketer” in the Manchester Guardian) we would look into its pages on dark nights, with the rain and wind outside, and it would be bittersweet to feel the flavour of the game and know that summer was far away and all the cricket fields of England were lost in the blackness of the year. Nowadays Wisden comes out at the beginning of March; the yellow cover flashes like spring The book is not only a record of past summers ; also it is a synopsis, a prospectus, of the summer that is coming. “Fixtures for 1934” —how good to look through them; they are like a map of May, June, July, and August. Some of us can blissfully put our fingers on a date- “Dover, August 18, Kent v. Lancashire.” And we can say: “We shall be there, on the garden terraco of the pretty ground, looking down on tire play, while the wind with the sea in it blows on our faces.” But no, on August 18 there is an engagement for us of solemn import at the Oval —England v. Australia, perhaps the rubber’s crisis! So instead of the pleasant lawns of Kent the grim brick and stones of Kennington. That is the chaimr of cricket; the game one day is a careless pastoral and the next day hitter war to the death. Eastbourne and the sunny Saffrons on Tuesday afternoon, and then a sleepless night in a train to the north, and at half-past .eleven next morning a dog-fight at Bramall Lane. Wisden promises all these changes in the season’s setting, rare spice and variety. GREAT DEEDS. But Wiseden is mainly a book of history, the cricketer’s Hansard. All the fine deeds of bygone summer are written down in language that is a model of compression and in statistics that are more eloquent than the poet’s purpled periods. To read the unvarnished and clever summaries of matchees in Wisden is a refreshment nowadays, when cricket is so often written about much as Homer wrote about the Trojan wars. “During four hours and a half Hammond scored 231 out of 356, hitting one 6 and twentyseven 4’s.” What more could the imagination ask for than the suggestive over-tones -of that simple statement ? Why labour the obvious points that Hammond batted with the dignity of the Elgin Marbles and wore the front of Jove? One glance at a page of Wisden and memory is made vibrant. “Six hundreds in succession—by C. B. Fry in 1901.” His scores were 106, v. Hampshire; 209, v. Yorkshire; 149, v. Middlesex; 105, v. Surrey; 140, v. Kent; and 105, t. Yorkshire. Thirtythree years ago; there were heroes before Bradman!” I remember that incredible sequence of Fry’s; I was a boy at school, and as the excitement increased day by day I could not sit still on the seat of the dull classroom ; for I knew that far away at Brighton C. B. Fry was in form again. What a cricketer he was to inspire a boy’s worship, handsome and supple- as a Greek god! Once, when he was fielding near the boundary at Old Trafford, I returned the ball to him, threw it with all an adoring lad’s nervousness straight into his hands. He said, “Thanks, sonny,” and he made a boy’s heart beat fit to burst. Jspoken to by C. B. Fry! “RANJI.” In Wisden you are able to live over and over again all your days in the sun. An article by Sir Stanley Jackson on Ranjitsinhji in this year’s volume is a tribute and an evocation; it honours a wonderful batsman and at the same time re-creates a modest and lovable spirit. “He was happiest,” writes Sir Stanley, “when singing tlie praises of others. The names of three of his contemporaries occur to me, who for brilliance and attractiveness could possibly claim a seat alongside him— Trumper, R. E. Foster, and A. C. MacLaren.” Men of the Golden Age! Yet even in that period there were days when the sun seemed to go out. I remember being told when I was at school that “Black Week”-meant the week Boers beat us at Tugela River. But another week as “black” for me happened in 1902, when a Test match began by England losing two wickets for no runs; Ranji 0, C. B. Fry 0! MacLaren and Sir Stanley himself pulled the game round by an unbeaten partnership of over a hundred runs of power and majesty; then rain fell for the rest of the match. But the stand achieved a timeless glory, and a volume of Wisden mirrors it for posterity’s admiration. The records compiled by Wisden are not the dull accountancy of the latest edition of the evening paper. They frequently have quaintness and humour. In 1902, we are told, W. Hayman, playing for Bath Association v. Thornbury, scored 359 in one hundred minutes. “He punished Dr E. M. Grace for 32 in one over and 30 in the next—62 off two overs. Altogether he hit E. M. Grace for th i rty-tito sixes.” It is not recorded what “E. M.” said, which it a pity- and a loss. TROTT’S BENEFIT. And here is another record, vivid as a book: “In 1907, at Lord’s, A. E. Trott took four wickets with consecutive balls, and also did the ‘hat-trick’ later on in the same innings!” It was Trott’s beenfit match, too, and it was all over and done with before Trott knew where he was. He bowled himself into the Bankruptcy Court; such is genius. Wisden is the authority, too, for the following miracle: “W. Clark (age fifteen, left-hand fast) did the hat-trick three times in the first innings and twice in the second for St. Augustine’s College, Ashford, Kent, v. Ashford Church Choir, in June, 1912.” No respectable writer of boys’ fiction would dare make his hero behave as incredibly as that. And no “captain of the school” has ever had the audacity to score in successive matches 8, and 131, 254 and 1, 334, 14 and 232. Yet Bradman played that sequence of innings in the Test matches of 1930. Wisden is always demonstrating that truth is stranger than fiction. In the Australian summer of 1928 a mate]} between New South Wales and Victoria was almost finished ; a cricketer named Hooker came to the wicket towards close of play, last man in. He obstinately batted out time, much to the chagrin of Victoria, who were compelled to turn out next morning for, as they imagined, merely formal purposes. But Hooker remained obstinate all day, and at the close of play he was again not out. He helped A. F. Kippax to score 307 for the last wicket. This preposterous hut true story is not told in detail by Wisden, but the fact is established in the records plainly enough for the stupefaction and high glee of all the ages and generations of cricket and cricketers still to come.