THE GREATNESS OF PAYNTER

Manawatu Times, Volume LV, Issue 6919, 25 July 1932, Page 5

THE GREATNESS OF PAYNTER

Neville Cardus Writes About A Fine Left-Handed Batsman

rSjHHBgSFnHE sad fact about a cricketer is that lie cannot l' ave h* s masterpieces rc'arVHny produced. Not so the 1 ’ "'ho, after lie has JWCTKjra made a liit in the proviuccs, can bring it to London and gain the recognition of the West End (writes Neville Cardus, in the London “Observer”). The novelist, too, is able to run into many editions. But a delectable innings by, say, Woolley, achieved in some provincal hole-in-a-corncr, is seen by only a few eyes, and dies the day it is created. On the Saturday before Whit Monday I had the good luck to watch one of the finest pieces of batsmanship I have come across since the war; it happened in the Lancashire and Yorkshire match at Bradford, and the player who proved himself a cricketer in a hundred was Paynter. No London newspaper gave an adequate account of this innings; nobody in the South of England, reading the account in their newspapers of Paynter’s cricket, could possibly realise that something quite out of the common had taken place at Bradford. A report in “The Times” of the match so completely missed the “story” that I wondered whether the writer of it, and myself, had visited the same match. . . .

class, and the temperament magnificent. First of all, let me try to scatter the notion that Paynter is merely a hitter. Last year at Sheffield, against Yorkshire, he batted hours and hours, and saved Lancashire from defeat by stonewalling as dogged as it was scientific, with the head and nose down, body always near the ball. Indeed, the criticism passed on Paynter that day was very much as follows: “A good defence no doubt—perhaps good enough for England. But where are his scoring strokes'?” Poor Paynter, well might ho think to-day that the world is very odd! He batted three hours and a-half against Yorkshire on an unpleasant pitch; ho scoi’cd only six in his first half-hour; he only once edged a bail; he. defended with the middle of his blade, the top of his bat’s handle always pointed to the bowler.

Then, when he saw a long-hop, he lay back and pulled it prodigiously for six. And if he raw a likely half-volley, he used quick feet and followed through with his drive, and sent the ball soaring to the top of the football stand. And yet there were critics wlio > found him wanting I His superb combination of offence and defence caused the Yorkshire attack to wonder where they had best pitch a length. It was the - old story—footwork, footwork, footwork, the beginning and end of great batsmanship. On a wicket which reduced the tentative so-called “science” of the other batsmen to futility, Paynter scored his 152 in three hours and a-half —and gave only one chance, a terrific pull to Sutcliffe at short square-leg. I imagine that anybody with an ounce of cricket sense will realise from these facts, that no player who was merely a hitter, that no player unsound in defence, could stay ;.t the wicket three hours against Yorkshire, on a howler’s turf—and not once edge a hall to the slips. Paynter was guilty of only one irrational stroke; at the outset of his innings he fa lefthander) tried to drive an off-break against the spin, and sent the ball flying ever the head of the slips. This was the solitary mis-hit of Paynter. in his long innings, played against bowling that was all the time spinning and jumping. I will leave that last sentence to tell its own tale and to explode the gathering fallacy that Paynter is what cricketers call nil “if-er.” None hut n batsman near to genius could have punished the Yorkshire attack as he did; none but an exceptional batsman could have hit as hard and as often as Paynter did, without once losing control of science and a straight hat, whenever a difficult hall came along. Tlie most impressive fact about the whole innings—which won the match—was not the sixes, but the recurrent periods of canny defence. Not once were the Yorkshire howlers able to say, “Toss ’em up; he’ll hit blind and get himself out.”

The fact that Paynler hit five sixes and 17 fours had indeed rendered his technique open to grave suspicion.

Nowadays the ability to pull a short ball for a six. is almost certain to keep a young cricketer out of an England team, no matter how frequently and certainly he piles up his runs. “Ah I” the purists on the pavilion say, “look at his cross-bat.” They do not pause to ask themselves how oil earth a short ball can be pulled with anything but a crossbat. I want to state emphatically, here and now, that Paynter’s great innings against Yorkshire was the proof of an England cricketer; the skill was high

As I say, the fact of his fierce hitting blinded many critics at Bradford to the essentially solid foundation of it all. I admit the recklessness of his one error; the stroke against the spin of an offbreak. But also I wish it to be known that be gave no other reason for hope lo the Yorkshire fieldsmen, not one in all bis three hours and a-lialf’s score of 152 —a wonderful score on a “sticky” ground. For years we have been waiting for a return in English batsmanship to the quick-footed opportunism of J. T. Tyldeslcy. And , now that a man of Tyldeslcy’s own county plays in the same match-winning (and matchsaving) style, the pundits shake their grey heads and say, “But look at his cross-bat”; forgetting that the only way in the world to pull a ball on a soft earth is with a cross-bat. Nobody at Bradford saw Paynter play a defensive stroke with a cross-bat—and that is the great thing to record about the innings.