The Umpire
By KENNETH GREGORY Mr. Southcott inadvertently allowed, for the first time during his innings, a ball to strike his person. 'Out!' shrieked the venerable umpire before anyone had time to appeal. A. G. Macdonell : England, Their England Ivumpire is the man who, on hearing the bell which rings five minutes before the start of an innings, seeks out his fellow umpire and walks to the wickets. He wears a barber's coat and moves as though in time to Ravel's 'Pavane for a Dead Infanta.' Once at the crease he places the bails in position and then bowls an old ball to his companion who stops it and bowls it back. By this simple though comprehensive act an umpire proves to the uninitiated that he is versed not only in the theory but also in the practice of cricket. The umpire is more often than not a married man with a family, a point worth making because umpiring has its occupational hazards; six years ago in the West Indies an umpire was rash enough to give the local hero out and thereby brought acts of physical violence upon his wife and son. An umpire is human and so prone to individual idiosyncrasies. The late Frank Chester was as histrionic as Sir Laurence before Agincourt. Once at Oxford he answered a fatuous appeal by turning his back on the bowler and gazing angrily in the direction of Lady Margaret' Hall from where, oddly enough, a cuckoo answered. Alex Skelding on the other hand shuffled to and fro in white boots which were the basis of a true clown's lugubrious visage and a wit which could convulse Australians in their dourest mood. Dai Davies proclaims his vintage with the soft slouch hat favoured by Spencer Tracy in the Thirties while John Langridge hides under a huge white cap as if to defy recognition as the same man whose distinguished Sussex career was achieved beneath a shrunken apology of a cap which might have been washed up on the beach at Brighton. But whatever their personal appearance our first-class umpires are dedicated fellows of rare professional merit. It is worth remembering that whereas England sides abroad always attri- bute any lack of success to poor umpiring tour- ing sides in this country always choose the pitch.
It must however be admitted that profes- sionalism of a high order in umpiring has de- prived us of much enjoyment. In the days before the Golden Age—I like to call it the Bronze Age —there was no umpire within twenty miles of Bristol who dared give Dr. E. M. Grace out. When one did forget himself in the cause of duty the 'Coroner' roared 'What! 1??' This reminder brought forth a revised verdict of 'Not out. Little Doctor knows best.' And after the great W. G. Grace had made countless centuries up and down the land it was natural that he should be cherished in his native West Country as an in- stitution. The locals went to watch him much as moderns do Dame Margot Fonteyn.
'Not out!' said the umpire to a young bowler who had just trapped WG palpably in front. 'And don't forget, young feller, all these folk have come to watch Dr. Grace bat. So don't try any more of your tricks.' Well, having paid two guineas for a stall we don't expect to find Dame Margot relegated to the corps de ballet.
These thoughts, sacred and profane, on um- piring occurred to me the other day when the MCC side returned from the West Indies and their manager, Mr. Walter Robins, commented on the bumpers which had been used to excess. 'We might have to look again at the law which defines persistent bowling of short-pitched balls as unfair.'
So I called on Frank Lee who, for the past eleven seasons, has been one of our Test Match umpires. I should mention incidentally that Lee's career as an opening batsman for Somerset co- incided with the reign of Laywood, Voce, Clark, Fames and Allen as our leading fast bowlers. Once at Trent Bridge, not long before the war, Lee received four or five bumpers in an over from Voce and was knocked cold by the last. Since his retirement he has watched Lindwall, Miller, Trueman, Statham, Tyson and the South Africans McCarthy, Heine and Adcock front the closest of quarters.
'What,' I asked, 'about intimidatory bowling?'
Lee grinned : 'Law 46, Note Four, Sub-section Six.' As I looked unduly impressed he explained that he had just been lecturing to umpires in Northern Ireland. 'Everything is covered by Law 46. A very well-thought-out law if I may say so. We examined Sub-section Six.
The persistent bowling of fast short-pitched balls at the batsman is 'unfair' if, in the opinion of the umpire at the bowler's end, it constitutes a systematic attempt at intimidation.
Now the vital word there is 'intimidation' because it is after all a relative term. As Lee emphasised, some contemporary batsmen caw not, or will not, play the hook shot. From this it is pretty obvious that if a bow' ler persists in pitch- ing short—and the batsman will be ducking for dear life—then his attack can be regarded as in' timidatory. But if the same bowler bowls a similar series of short-pitched balls at a batsman who can hook, then the result is a succession of boundaries. The Times cricket correspondent watched Wesley Hall peppering our men with bumpers last winter and wondered if Harvey and O'Neill will be ducking in 1960-61.
I asked Lee if he had an'y difficulty in deciding when to warn a bowler.
'No, he knows when he is trying it on and SO do I. I walk back a few paces: have a word with him and he behaves. If he didn't, I should approach his captain and he would be taken off for the remainder of the innings. Mind you, I've never had to do that and I hope I never shall, but .
I recalled one of the most famous sentences in all cricket writing, about Maclaren 'dismissing the bumpers of Ernest Jones from his presence,' and concluded that bumpers have always been part of the fast bowler's stock-in-trade. As LeY- land once put it, 'None of us likes fast bowling but some show it more than others.' Perhaps the best answer to Mr. Robins's implied criticism of Law 46—and I hasten to add that this is not Frank Lee's—is to advocate that a couple of English umpires be sent to the West Indies next time. They will be insured and their wives and children left at home.
The umpire will continue to be criticised for giving batsmen out; as William Clarke (born 1799) put it, 'There are some who never are out unless the bowler makes the middle stump turn a summerset.' Cynics will accept Sir Donald Bradman's dictum on umpiring. Asked if be agreed that it is generally the losing side which complains about the umpiring, he replied : `No. It's always the losing side.'
But although I can appreciate that the umpire has sometimes to give an unusual decision, I shall never understand how a Yorkshire umpire once communicated his decision to the scorer. The Sheffield Iris of August 2, 1842, assures me that one J. Marshall was out, Burnt ball, for a duck. How would the imperious Chester have signalled that?
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