“ON THE HILL”

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 17956, 7 December 1932, Page 12

“ON THE HILL”

DEMOCRACY’S DAY OUT AT THE CRICKET MATCH SYDNEY, Nov, 26. If one is prepared to suffer the discomforts of a blazing sun, assuming the sun is shining with more than ordinary warmth, as was tile case yesterday; of sitting amid such evidences of a gastronomic orgy, as peanut shells, orange peel, banana, skins, and the remnants of prawns, and of being incommoded by youthful collectors of empty bottles and vendors of liquid and other refreshments, then there is only one spot on the Sydney Cricket Ground from which to view a big cricket match there, with real enjoyment. It is “the hill.’

Those 011 “the hill” feel that the occupants of tho other enclosures view cricket far too gravely; have too much regard for the properties of speech, and are far too decorous thoroughly to enjoy Jie spirit of the game. Yesterday, at the England v. New South Wales match, those on “the hill” not only took off their coats, but hundreds ignored the sartorial properties by taking off their shoes and boots for added comfort. Some of tbe males even took off their socks.

It was a great day. All classes were among the vast mass there. It takes big cricket as well as indigestion to level all ranks.

For an off-day, it was an extraordinary scene. From.an early hour, the ground had been the confluence of vast human tides from all quarters. When the coin was tossed, and even before it, one looked over a vast sea of people. Them was little room anywhere for late-comers Thunderous applause swept the ground when, shortly before the luncheon adjournment, Bradman came blithely on the scene, following Bill’s comparatively brief career at the wicket. It was not long before there was a wail like a threnody as for some lost soul. Bradman limped off back to the dress-ing-room for a mere 18. The crowd on “the hill” turned mournfully to its light luncheon of peanuts and lemonade. Later, to add to its gloom, came the eavlv downfall of the captain of the home team, Kippax Voce was not at ell popular with “the hill,” especially after Fingleton had been rendered temporarily hors do combat. PIGEON DEFIES THEM

Throughout practically the whole of the day, a pigeon, regardless of the game, and of England’s fast bowlers, picked quietly at tho grass not far from the wickets. It was still theie, picking away, towards tile close of the innings. Someone saw in its presence a favorable omen for New South Wales—until the home side’s batsmen begun to retire with almost monotonous regularity. _ Tho bird was not far from the wicket when, in the early stages of the play, voce was pegging away without success, amid the cynical banter of the crowd. . ~ “See if vim can Lit that, pigeon, yelled someone. It was suggested by someone else towards the close of the day that the pigeon must have had nine lives, and eaten enough to satisfy the appetite of an elephant. If the pigeon temporarily left tho field, it was quickly back again. . Fingleton, playing under obvious difficulties as a result of the ball’s contact with him at various stages—finally 110 had to be provided with a substitute runner—had by this reached the half century, amidst storms of cheers. Ho saw wicket after wicket fall as ho stood before tho onslaught of England s bowlU ft was shortly after Fingleton had reached tho half century that there appeared on the scoring board the notice—- “ Wanted at members' stand. "I hope it’s not me they want,” cried half-a-dozen voices on tho hill. -The crowd was keyed up, and was in a moiry mood; there was the lurking fear among them 'that it was a call back to town. Then, in a blank space, appeared a doctor’s name. All was well —at least on “the hill.” . „ , “The hill” was airing its omniscience in matters cricket-. England was ringing the changes cm its bowlers, but it had not yet tried the Yorkshireman, Verity. “Give ‘Variety’ a go,” came a voice that could be heard all over the ground. It is not suggested that Jardine was prepared to place his trust in Die judgment of “the hill,” but, within a second or two of the stentorian command from that quarter, Verity had the ball in bis hand. McCabe, far more sparkling than Fingleton, was still helping to hold the fort for New South Wales. There was a wild cheer when McCabe reached 50; and when three balls were flashed to the fence in succession the joy of the crowd knew no bounds. “Break their ’carts, Stan; we can do without' Don Bradman,” roared a voice from the crowded citadel of Demos. The next ball, McCabe- played very carefully. All eyes were glued on him; His caution was comforting to those who feared he might make a. false move. “That’s the Ixiy. Stan,” he was informed loudly, “Don’t- do ‘yer nut. The fast medium bowler, Tate, was the idol of the crowd, even if he was taking the wickets, and the batsmen were showing him the respect due. to Ins prowess with the ball. They appeared to like him for himself, apart from Ins display with the ball. This is his third visit. ' “The hill” has come to feel that it knows him intimately by now. Verity was taken off. But there was another loud call for “Variety. He was not making any impression on Fingleton and 1 McCabe. The score was hoveriti" near the 200 mark; the crowd wanted to see the second century posted while the “going was good.”

“TUT-TUT” There was the sharp.ping of the ball, and then, in a thunderous voice ■ from behind the wicket, “How’s that?” It looked for the moment as though it was the end of McCabe’s innings. “Tut-tut,” yelled the crowd on the hill, amid roars of laughter, and by way of dissent from the wicket-keeper’s appeal. The hill was once again right. The umpire had concurred in its ruling. McCabe was still safe at the wicket. Cheers broke across the ground from all quarters when, just before the tea adjournment, McCabe left the field with a very creditable 67 to his record. Fingleton, -scoring slowly, but nevertheless” still gamely holding up New «Soutli Wales’ end, had seen yet, another batsman out. It was Hie end of a useful partnership when McCabe was forced to •iart company with Fingleton, and practically the end of the innings, in the yes <>f the, crowd. It was a memorable n nient when Fingleton finally reached Mr century. Slowly, but surely, lie, with McCabe, had saved Now South Wales’ face. The crowd cheered him again and again. In a dull moment or two that followed, a young fellow selling newsoapers threaded his way through the crowd. “Latest score,” he was yelling. 'l’he crowd was unresponsive. Finally the news vendor saw trie humor of trying to cany “coals to Newcastle.” Ho changed his tactics. “Big society scandal at Pyrniont,” came his piercing voice. In the roars of laughter that followed, the crowd momentarily forgot to say things about. Voce. But there was another verbal assault on him when, with acrobatic agility, Fingleton “ducked” to several of his balls. Voce was informed, amid boo-hoos, that they were playing cricket, not baseball. The New South Wales tail had commenced to crumple up,. Oldfield made

a tremendous swipe with his first stroke, much to the distress of the crowd. “Now IJortie,’’ called an enthusiast, “don’t think you’re on Moore Park.” Oldfield was soon put out of his misery. The crowd was now in jocund spirit in its attitude towards the tail-endecs. It knew , the game was up so fur as the home team’s first innings was concerned.

“Haye mercy on him," “the hill” cried to Allen when Thealc took the but. “Clive him underarms.”

There was hardly room to move on “the hill.” One wonders what it will be like to-day.—Sydney Morning Her add,