Cricket
Springtime blues
Alan Gibson
When, a few years ago, the start of the championship cricket season was set back for a fortnight, the universities, governed by term time, carried on as before. Coun- ties are still pleased to play them as part of their preparations, and so 19 April and next week will see me in the Parks at Oxford. I look forward to it keenly after a winter of sickness, particularly as the visi- tors will be two of my favourite counties, Somerset and Gloucestershire.
The Parks is still one of the loveliest grounds, though its arboreal beauty has been marred by the Dutch elm bug. But it will survive the assault, even as it survived the assault of Lewis Carroll, more than a hundred years ago, who objected to the reservation of so much space for the game of cricket. He headed his poem `Solitu- dinem faciunt: Parcum appellant', which I can easily translate with the assistance of V. J. Marks, who has been spending his winter as a classical master.
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And rude pavilions sadden all thy green; One selfish pastime grasps the whole do- main, And half a faction swallows up the plain. . . . Sunk are thy mounds in shapeless level all, Lest aught impede the swiftly rolling ball; And trembling, shrinking from the fatal blow, Far, far away thy hapless children go.
The problem for the hapless children at the Parks, and even the more adult cricket spectators, is so often the weather. Has it really got worse over the years? I do not remember from my own undergraduate days, in the 1940s, anything like the succes- sion of cold, damp days which has beset us in recent springs. My recollections are of sunlit pictures, with Donnelly scoring cen- turies, and Pawson hurrying him up be- tween the wickets. No doubt the difference in temperature is partly due to my declin- ing circulation: and the undergraduate could always slip away to some other rewarding pursuit when it rained, while the journalist has to wait grimly, longing for the delayed abandonment of play, on a ground where the facilities for refreshment and comfort are minimal. (Fenner's, since they built the new pavilion, and put glass in the press box window, has us completely licked in this respect. On the other hand, Fenner's is the only ground where I can remember cold — not rain — stopping play. It was on 24 April 1981, in the match against Essex.) University cricket is not the force it was. It has been suggested that the Combined Universities' XI which plays in the Benson and Hedges Cup should be drawn from all universities, not just Oxford and Cam- bridge. This is not a very good idea. The selection difficulties, so early in the season, would be immense. Besides, Oxford and Cambridge have not done badly as it is: in 1975 they narrowly missed reaching the quarter-finals, and in 1976 they had a win at Barnsley which still causes Yorkshire- men to gnash their teeth. It has also been suggested that the University match should no longer be played at Lord's, in front of gapingly empty terraces. Certainly it might be a livelier affair at Scarborough, or Torquay, or perhaps Bletchley, where everyone travelling between Oxford and Cambridge by train used to have to change and wait patiently. There is a thriving cricket club at Bletchley, where Minor Counties matches are played, and a large nearby population, since Milton Keynes was born.
The trouble with the early University fixtures is the examiners. This has long been so to some extent, but the pressure intensifies. In the 1880s, S. M. J. Woods was at Cambridge, the fast bowler, and the leader of the forwards when it came to rugby. Sam was an Australian, though destined to spend most of his life in Somerset. He was in his third year when it was noticed that he had omitted to take his entrance examination, then known as Divvers', short for divinity. With apprehension did the university survey their hero's progress, clad in the unfamiliar dignity of academic dress, to the examina- tion schools. The thought of his failure was not to be borne. The examiners, wise men, were careful, but still had to struggle. They asked only two questions. The first was `Who led the children of Israel out of Egypt?' Sam did not know, but was tactful- ly reminded of his own second name, which happened to be Moses. The second was 'Who was the first King of Israel?' Sam knew this one, and triumphantly replied, `Saul.' Thank you, Mr Woods,' and relief all round. But Sam, who had sweated at work for the examination, and did not like to waste it, turned round as he was leaving the room, and added, 'Also called Paul.'
No, it is not like that any more. In the nature of things, the senior players, who are usually the better, are nearer to their final schools, and unable to play much until the side goes on tour. Not many of the Oxford players I shall be seeing this week can be hopeful of getting Blues, at least this year. Thus the record against county sides continues to be, for the most part, dismal. Yet they do continue to produce, ultimately, players of high quality, and I think that the privileged Oxbridge position will survive for a while yet.
They must, though, work for their sta- tus. You do not much mind when a bunch of young batsmen are put out for 75 or so by England bowlers, nor when a county responds with 350 for 2 against inexperi- enced bowlers. But a University side has no excuse for not fielding well. The general standard of fielding in first-class cricket has risen greatly since the war, but the univer- sities, with the nimbleness of youth, ought always to be able to set an example. Greville Stevens went up to Oxford in 1919, having already played for Middlesex, and even, as a schoolboy, for the Gentle- men against the Players at Lord's. He had a high reputation as a gully, then an unfamiliar position. 'And now', he said to his captain, Frank Gilligan, as he walked out for his first match with Oxford, 'shall field in the place which I've made famous?, `Yes,' said Gilligan, long-on at both ends: It was only a light-hearted exchange, but it showed something of the standard a Uni- versity captain expected of his fieldsmen. hope I shall see this week that the spirit has not altogether been lost.
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