WOMEN AND CRICKET.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20496, 22 February 1930, Page 1 (Supplement)

WOMEN AND CRICKET.

DIFFERENCES.

BY K. IT. KNIGHT.

John and the Girl were talking about Cricket, with a capital C, because they had recent test matches in mind. John said teasingly "What do girls know about cricket V'

And the girl suddenly saw red. She blazed at John. "That is what you men always think. You think you are a superior race of mortals, and that women have no right to love cricket matches. I suppose you. think we like watching the in to see if we can find out the coloui of the men's eyes''"'

" I can see that I have put rny foot in it now," John said thoughtfully. "How can I best get out of this position I hnd mvself in?"

" You are not going to get out of it. You are going to argue it out wit.i me. It would be 'just like a. man to say an unfair tiling, and then refuse to put r. right." " Very well." John said meekly. 111 put it right, if you can prove to me that you do know something about ciicket.^ The Girl said, her eyes shining like big □ res, "I know something about cricket, all right. I have known enough to stand, because I was too poor to pay for a seat, for four hours in the sun, watching a 'handful of men playing. I never doubt for a moment that e T- ery man who saw me there thought, 'that flapper in the green liafc must be very interested _in these lords of creation,' never dreaming that the flapper was seeing a very big slice of life while she watched tii2 men running across the field. "I have already apologised, Girl," John said. "It is no use apologising. You still tliink that I, because I am a girl, cairt see in cricket what you can see. Don't you ?" " No, my dear. I'll admit anything to the contrary." " It. is too late to be diplomatic. Oh." the Girl said bitterly, " life is mean to women ; mean—mean. You men have a lovely fellowship of ideas: you can band yourselves into little happy groups, and go saiiing round the world playing shames, just because the Lord made you free-limbed and strong and—men. And you don't even think that we women can understand the games y6u play. I'll tell vou what I see in cricket, and then you can tell me I don't understand it—if you have that much conceit." A Moving Picture. " I teil you what I can see when men are playing cricket," she said. " The field becomes a moving picture of Life to me. I can see England, first: all that she has been down through the ages, stumbling and falling, achieving and blundering, and becoming the England we know now. Her wide fields, her old homes, her old schools, her countryside and her quaint, mellow churches; her great cities', her teeming people, her rich minds, her art. That comes first, with a sense of pride, and something of sorrow for the times that her imperialistic powers have been misdirected, and people have not known that she meant well, and have suffered.

" Then I forset about Encland. or she just becomes the scenery and the play croes on without my noticing it. I start thinking about life—how it has to be lived so. near to the laws that govern cricket. There is no backing out of life, anv more than one can back out of cricket. A batsman, thrown out. walks off the field, and the crowd cheers. Something: Inside me alows in response to their cheers, and I know that it is appreciation of the great games —ot life and of cricket."

" But the technic, Girl Tlie technic of the game—isn't that anything to vou ?"

The Girl said slowly: " Because I'm a girl, I have never played real cricket. School matches between girls are not cricket."

She saw a twinkle in John's eyes—an I told you so " little glimmer that roused her blood again. " If you mean do I know cover-point from mid-off, then I do. If you mean do I know an off-drive from a square cut, then I do. But that matters as little as knowing whether a musician is playing in sharps or flats. But when a man sends a glorious drive to the boundarv. just as easily as a master violinistbrings a wonderful burst of harmony out of a passage of Paginini, then I feel a thrill of wonder and joy. I feel that I have seen another little glimpse of the law that underlies all art, making poetry and song. painting aDd dancing, acting or playing cricket all one. 1 hat is what thrills—the knowledge of unity: the glimpse of it that one in the work of a first-class cricketer, or a first-class musician. It is as far above a knowledge of technic as the stars are above the earth. Individual Types. " But the part that gets me." the Girl said, "is that you men think that a girl cannot be conscious of this feeling of unity. You think women are all personal. individual beings, who can t see beyond men to the game itself. That annoys me. Why, because my mind is in a "girl's body, can't I see the underlying truths of ericlot ?" John had nothing to say. \yhat could a man sav?

'• When I am at college I am not told that this study or that study is not for me because I am a woman. I can learn tlie truth of languages or history, interpreting as I go. anil am not told that those things are not for women. But you are the thousandth man to tell me cricket is a mystery not to be solved by me because I am a woman. To you I am just the flapper in .the green hat. watching cricket, with the game's holy of holies hidden eternally from me." John shrugged in a helpless little way, meant to denote the ntier incapability of mere man to extricate himself from a woman's wrath. " Girl.'' lie said. "I have told you what 1 think. I can't go back on it. T'll apologise again, hut I can't say that 1 think women know cricket when [ think they don't." "Gli. you men ! Yes, I'll admit there's a difference in ;i man's and a woman's outlook, but if a woman errs by being unable to bow to general rules, by being unable to accept the ruling of the major - itv. doesn't, a man err equally when lie makes general rules that include all women, and shu f, out the possibility of individual types?" Injustice. " You mean—?" John asked slowly. " I mean that you do me an injustice when you say that there are only men and women; that men can understand cricket, and women can't. There might, be fifty women to whom a cricket match was so many handsome men playing with a bat and ball. But there might be one to whom cricket meant law and order, i and breadth of "ision ami sound judg- j mont, who could appreciate good field- J ing. true bowling, and the mysterious j sacrament of batting. There might be one j woman to whom a cricket match was j the nearest, approach she knew of life lived as she would have it lived, in all fairness, impartial justice, and good fel-1 lowship. Are you going to include such j a woman in the general terms of banish- j ment?" I

Again John had nothing to say. Then he tried to imagine the. Girl stopping a fast hall with her little white hands—a whole field of women playing in a test match—and he laughed; but not before the Girl had stuffed her red curls into her green hat, and left, him alone to his dreams of good cricket.