# The Cricket Field/Chapter 7

CHAP. VII.
Bαττολογια,
OR
THE SCIENCE AND ART OF BATTING.
A writer in "Blackwood" once attributed the success of his magazine to the careful exclusion of every bit of science, or reasoning, above half an inch long. The Cambridge Professors do not exclusively represent the mind of Parker's Piece; so, away with the stiffness of analysis and the mysteries of science: the laws of dynamics might puzzle, and the very name of physics alarm, many an able-bodied cricketer; so, invoking the genius of our mother tongue, let us exhibit science in its more palatable form.
All the balls that can be bowled may, for all practical purposes, be reduced to a few simple classes, and plain rules given for all and each. There are what are called good balls, and bad balls. The former, good lengths, and straight, while puzzling to the eye; the latter, bad lengths and wide, while easy to see and to hit.
But, is not a good hand and eye quite enough, ​with a little practice, without all this theory? Do you ignore the Pilches and the Parrs, who have proved famous hitters from their own sense alone?—The question is, not how many have succeeded, but how many more have failed. Cricket by nature is like learning from a village dame; it leaves a great deal to be untaught before the pupil makes a good scholar. If you have Caldecourt's, Wisden's, or Lillywhite's instructions, vivâ voce, why not on paper also? What, though many excellent musicians do not know a note, every good musician will bear witness that the consequence of Nature's teaching is, that men form a vicious habit almost impossible to correct, a lasting bar to brilliant execution. And why?—because the piano or the violin leaves no dexterity or rapidity to spare. The muscles act freely in one way only, in every other way with loss of power. So with batting. A good ball requires all the power and energy of the man! And, as with riding, driving, rowing, or every other exercise, it depends on a certain form, attitude, or position, whether, this power be forthcoming or not.
The scope for useful instructions for forming good habits of hitting before their place is preoccupied with bad—for, "there's the rub"—is very great indeed. If Pilch, and Clarke, and Lillywhite, averaging fifty years each, are still indifferent to pace in bowling,—and if Mr. Ward, ​as late as 1844, scored forty against Mr. Kirwan's swiftest bowling, while some of the most active young men, of long experience in cricket, are wholly unequal to the task; then, it is undeniable that a batsman may form a certain invaluable habit, which youth and strength cannot always give, nor age and inactivity entirely take away.
The following are simple rules for forming correct habits of play; for adding the judgment of the veteran to the activity of youth, or putting an old head on young shoulders, and teaching the said young shoulders not to get into each other's way.
All balls that can be bowled are reducible to "length balls" and "not lengths."
Not lengths, are the toss, the tice, the half volley, the long hop, and ground balls.
These are not length balls, not pitched at that critical length which puzzles the judgment as to whether to play forward or back, as will presently be explained. These are all "bad balls;" and among good players considered certain hits; though, from the delusive confidence they inspire, sometimes they are bowled with success against even the best of players.
These not lengths, therefore, being the easiest to play, as requiring only hand and eye, but little judgment, are the best for a beginner to practise; ​80, we will set the tyro in a proper position to play them with certainty and effect.
Position.—Look at any professional player,—observe how he stands and holds his bat. Much, very much, depends on position,—so look at the figure of Pilch. This is substantially the attitude of every good batsman. Some think he should bend the right knee a little; but an anatomist reminds me that it is when the limb is straight that the muscles are relaxed, and most ready for sudden action. Various as attitudes appear to the casual observer, all coincide in the main points marked in the figure of Pilch in our frontispiece. For, all good players,—
1st. Stand with the right foot just within the line. Further in, would limit the reach and endanger the wicket: further out, would endanger stumping.
2dly. All divide their weight between their two feet, though making the right leg more the pillar and support, the left being rather lightly placed, and more ready to move on, off, or forward, and this we will call the Balance-foot
3rdly. All stand as close as they can without being before the wicket; otherwise, the bat cannot be upright, nor can the eye command a line from the bowler's hand.
4thly. All stand at guard as upright as is easy to them. We say easy, not to forbid a slight ​stoop,—the attitude of extreme caution. Height is a great advantage, "and a big man," says Dakin, "is foolish to make himself into a little man." If the eye is low, you cannot have the commanding sight, nor, as players say, "see as much of the game," as if you hold up your head, and look well at the bowler.
5thly. All stand easy, and hold the bat lightly, yet firmly, in their hands. However rigid your muscles, you must relax them, as already observed, before you can start into action. Rossi, the sculptor, made a beautiful marble statue of a batsman at guard, for the late Mr. William Ward, who said, "You are no cricketer, Mr. Sculptor; the wrists are too rigid, and hands too much clenched."
After standing at guard in the attitude of Pilch, fig. 1. shows the bat taken up ready for action. But, at what moment are you to raise your bat? Caldecourt teaches, and some very good players observe, the habit of not raising the bat till they have seen the pitch of the ball. This is said to tend both to safety and system in play; but a first-rate player, who has already attained to a right system, should aspire to more power and freedom, and rise into the attitude of fig. 1. as soon as the ball is out of the bowler's hand. Good players often begin an innings with their bat down, and raise it as they gain confidence.
Fig. 1.
Preparing for Action.
Meet the ball with as full a bat as the case admits. Consider the full force of this rule.
1st. Meet the ball. The bat must strike the ball, not the ball the bat. Even if you block, you can block hard, and the wrists may do a little; so, ​with a good player this rule admits of no exception. Young players must not think I recommend a flourish, but an exact movement of the bat at the latest possible instant. In playing back to a bail ball, a good player meets the ball, and plays it with a resolute movement of arm and wrist. Pilch is not caught in the attitude of what some call Hanging guard, letting the ball hit his bat dead, once in a season.
2dly. With a full bat. A good player has never less wood than 21 inches by 4¼ inches before his wicket as he plays the ball, a bad player has rarely more than a bat's width alone. Remember the old rule, to keep the left shoulder over the ball, and left elbow well up. Good players must avoid doing this in excess; for, some play from leg to off, across the line of the ball, in their over care to keep the shoulder over it. Fix a bat by pegs in the ground, and try to bowl the wicket down, and you will perceive what an unpromising antagonist this simple rule creates. I like to see a bat, as the ball is coming, hang perpendicular as a pendulum from the player's wrists. The best compliment ever paid me was this:—"Whether you play forward or back, hitting or stopping, the wicket is always covered to the full measure of your bat." So said a friend well known in North Devon, whose effective bowling, combined with ​his name, has so often provoked the pun of "the falls of the Clyde."
3dly. As full a bat as the case admits: you cannot present a full bat to any but a straight ball. A bat brought forward from the centre stump to a ball Off or to leg, must be minutely oblique and form an angle sufficient to make Off or On hits.
Herein then consists the great excellence of batting, in presenting the largest possible face of the bat to the ball. While the bat is descending on the ball, the ball may rise or turn, to say nothing of the liability of the hand to miss, and then the good player has always half the width of his bat, besides its height, to cover the deviation; whereas, the cross player is far more likely to miss, from the least inaccuracy of hand and eye, or twist of the ball.
And, would you bring a full bat even to a toss? Would you not cut it to the Off or hit across to the On?
This question tries my rule very hard certainly; but though nothing less than a hit from a toss can satisfy a good player, still I have seen the most brilliant hitters, when a little out of practice, lose their wicket, or hit a catch from the edge of the bat, by this common custom of hitting across even to a toss or long hop.
​To hit tosses is good practice, requiring good time and quick wrist play. If you see a man play stiff, and "up in a heap," a swift toss is worth trying. Bowlers should practise both toss and tice.
We remember Wenman playing well against fine bowling; when an underhand bowler was put on, who bowled him with a toss, fourth ball.
To play tosses, and ground balls, and hops, and every variety of loose bowling, by the rigid rules of straight and upright play, is a principle, the neglect of which has often given the old hands a laugh at the young ones. Often have I been amused to see the wonder and disappointment occasioned, when some noted member of a University Eleven, or the Marylebone Club, from whom all expected of course the most tremendous hitting "off mere underhand bowling," has been easily disposed of, by a toss or a ground ball, yclept a "sneak."
A fast ball to the middle stump, however badly bowled, no player can afford to treat too easily. A ball that grounds more than once may turn more than once; and, the bat though properly 4¼ inches wide, is considerably reduced when used across wicket; so never hit across wicket. To turn to loose bowling, and hit from leg stump square to the on side with full swing of the body, is very gratifying and very effective; and, perhaps you may hit over the tent, or, as I once saw, into a ​neighbour's carriage; but, while the natives are marvel-stricken, Caldecourt will shake his head, and inwardly grieve at folly so triumphant.
This reminds me of a memorable match in 1834, of Oxford against Cowley, the village which fostered those useful members of university society; who, during the summer term, bowl at sixpences on stumps sometimes eight hours a day, and have strength enough left at the end to win one sixpence more.
The Oxonians, knowing the ground or knowing their bowlers, scored above 200 runs in their first innings. Then Cowley grew wiser; and even now a Cowley man will tell the tale, how they put on one Tailor Humphreys to bowl twisting underhand sneaks, at which the Oxonians laughed, and called it "no cricket;" but it actually levelled their wickets for fewer runs than were made against Bayley and Cobbett the following week. The Oxonians, too eager to score, and thinking it so easy, hit across and did not play their usual game.
Never laugh at bowling that takes wickets. Bowling that is bad, often for that very reason meets with batting that is worse. Nothing shows a thorough player more than playing with caution even badly pitched underhand bowling.
One of the best judges of the game I ever knew was once offered by a fine hitter a bet that he ​could not with his underhand bowling make him "give a chance" in half an hour.
"Then you know nothing of the game," was the reply; "I would bowl you nothing but Off tosses, which you must cut; you would not cut those correctly for half an hour, for you could not use a straight bat once. Your bet ought to be,—no chance before so many runs."
Peter Heward, an excellent wicket-keeper of Leicester,—of the same day as Henry Davis, one of the finest and most graceful hitters ever seen, as Dakin, or any midland player will attest,—once observed to me, "Players are apt to forget that a bad bowler may bowl one or two balls as well as the best; so, to make a good average, you must always play the same guarded and steady game, and take care especially when late in the season." "Why late in the season?" "Because the ground is damp and heavy—it takes the spring out of good bowling, and gives fast underhand bowling as many twists as it has hops, besides making it hang on the ground. This game is hardly worth playing it is true; but a man is but half a player who is only prepared for true ground." "We do not play cricket," he continued, "on billiard tables; wind and weather, and the state of the turf make all the difference. So, if you play to win, play the game that will carry you through; and that is a straight and ​upright game; use your eyes well; play not at the pitch, nor by the length, but always (what few men do) at the ball itself, and never hit or 'pull the ball' across wicket."
Next as to the half-volley. This is the most delightful of all balls to hit, because it takes the right part of the bat, with all the quickness of its rise or rebound. Any player will show you what a half-volley is, and I presume that every reader has some living lexicon to explain common terms. A half-volley, then, is very generally hit in the air, soaring far above every fieldsman's head; and to know the power of the bat, every hitter should learn so to hit at pleasure. Though, as a rule, high hits make a low average. But I am now to speak only of hitting half-volleys along the ground.
Every time you play forcibly at the pitch of a ball you have more or less of the half- volley; so this is a material point in batting. The whole secret consists partly in timing your hit well, and partly in taking the ball at the right part of the rise, so as to play the ball down without wasting its force against the ground.
Every player thinks he can hit a half-volley along the ground; but if once you see it done by a really brilliant hitter, you will soon understand that such hitting admits of many degrees of perfection. In forward play, or driving, fine hitters ​seem as as if they felt the ball on the bat, and sprung it away an elastic impulse: and in the more forcible hits, a ball from one of the All England batsmen appears not so much like a hot as a shot from the bat: for, when a ball is hit in the swiftest part of the bat's whirl, and with that part of the bat that gives the greatest force with the least jar, the ball appears to offer no resistance; its momentum is annihilated by the whirl of the bat, and the two-and-twenty fieldsmen find to their surprise how little ground a fieldsman can cover against true and accurate hitting.
Clean hitting requires a loose aim, the bat held firmly, but not clutched in the hand till the moment of hitting; clumsy gloves are a sad hindrance, the hit is not half so crisp and smart. The bat must be brought forward not only by the free swing of the arm working well from the shoulder, but also by the wrist. (Refer to fig. 1. p. 115.) Here is the bat ready thrown back, and wrists proportionally bent; from that position a hit is always assisted by wrist as well as arm. The effect of the wrist alone, slight as its power appears, is very material in hitting; this probably arises from the greater precision and better time in which a wrist hit is commonly made.
As to hard hitting, if two men have equal skill, the stronger man will send the ball farthest. Many slight men drive a ball nearly as far as ​larger men, because they exert their force in a more skilful manner. We have seen a man six feet three inches in height, and of power in proportion, hit a ball tossed to him—not once or twice, but repeatedly—a hundred yards or more in the air. This, perhaps, is more than any light man could do. But, the best man at putting the stone and throwing a weight we ever saw, was a man of little more than ten stone. In this exercise, as in wrestling, the application of a man's whole weight at the proper moment is the chief point: so also in hard hitting.
The whirl of the bat may be accelerated by wrist, fore-arm, and shoulder: let each joint bear its proper part.
Nuts for strong teeth.—All effective hits must be made with both hands and arms; and, in order that both arms may apply their force, the point at which the ball is struck should be opposite the middle of the body.
Take a bat in your hand, poise the body as for a half-volley hit forward, the line from shoulder to shoulder being parallel with the line of the ball. Now whirl the bat in the line of the ball, and you will find that it reaches that part of its circle where it is perpendicular to the ground,—midway between the shoulders; at that moment the bat attains its greatest velocity; so, then alone can the strongest hit be made. Moreover, a hit ​made at this moment will drive the ball parallel to and skimming the ground. And if, in such a hit, the lower six inches of the bat's face strike the ball, the hit is properly called a "clean hit" being free from all imperfections. The same may be said of a horizontal hit, or cut. The bat should meet the ball when opposite the body. I do not say that every hit should be made in this manner; I only say that a perfect hit can be made in no other, and that it should be the aim of the batsman to attain this position of the body as often as he can. Nor is this mere speculation on the scientific principle of batting; it arises from actual observation of the movements of the best batsmen. All good hitters make their hits just at the moment when the ball is opposite the middle of their body. Watch any fine Off-hitter. If he hits to Mid-wicket, his breast is turned to Midwicket; if he hits, I mean designedly, to Point, his breast is turned to Point. I do not say that his hits would always go to those parts of the field; because the speed and spin of the ball will always, to a greater or less degree, prevent its going in the precise direction of the hit; but I only say that the ball is always hit by the best batsmen when just opposite to them. Cutting forms no exception: the best cutters turn the body round on the basis of the feet till the breast fronts the ball,—having let the ball go almost as ​far as the bails,—and then the full power of the hitter is brought to bear with the least possible diminution of the original speed of the ball. This is the meaning of the observation,—that fine cutters appear to follow the ball, and at the latest moment cut the ball off the bails; for, if you do not follow the ball, by turning your breast to it at the moment you hit, you can have no power for a fine cut. It makes good "Chamber practice" to suspend a ball oscillating by a string: you will thus see wherein lies that peculiar power of cutting, which characterises Mr. Bradshaw, Mr. Felix, and Mr. C. Taylor; as of old, Searle, Saunders, and Robinson. Robinson cut so late that the ball often appeared past the wicket.
And these hints will suffice to awaken attention to the powers of the bat. Clean hitting is a thing to be carefully studied; the player who has never discovered his deficiency in it, had better examine and see whether there is not a secret he has yet to learn.
The Tice. Safest to block: apt to be missed, because a dropping ball; hard to get away, because on the ground. Drop the bat smartly on the ground, and it will make a run, but do not try too much of a hit. The Tice is almost a full pitch; the way to hit it, says Caldecourt, is to go in and make it a full pitch: I cannot advise this for beginners. Going in even to a Tice puts ​you out oF form for the next ball, and creates a dangerous habit.
Ground balls, and all balls that touch the ground more than once between wickets, I have already hinted, are reckoned very easy, but they are always liable to prove very dangerous. Sometimes you have three hops, and the last like a good length ball: at each hop the ball may twist On or Off with the inequalities of the ground; also, if bowled with the least bias, there is much scope for that bias to produce effect. All these peculiarities account for a fact, strange but true, that the best batsmen are often out with the worst bowling. Bad bowling requires a game of its own, and a game of the greatest care, where too commonly we find the least; because "only underhand bowling,"—and "not by any means good lengths;" it requires, especially, playing at the ball itself, even to the last inch, and not by calculation of the pitch or rise.
Let me further remark that hitting, to be either free, quick, or clean, must be done by the arms and wrists, and not by the body; though the weight of the body appears to be thrown in by putting down the left leg; though, in reality, the leg comes down after the hit to restore the balance.
Can a man throw his body into a blow (at cricket)? About as much as he can hold up a horse with a bridle while sitting on the same ​horse's back. Both are common expressions; both are at variance with the laws of nature. A man can only hit by whirling his bat in a circle. If he stands with both feet near together, he hits feebly because in a smaller circle; if he throws his left foot forward, he hits harder because in a wider circle. A pugilist cannot throw in his body with a round hit; and a cricketer cannot make anything else but round hits. Take it as a rule in hitting, that what is not elegant is not right; for the human frame is rarely inelegant in its movements when all the muscles act in their natural direction. Many men play with their shoulders up to their ears, and their sinews all in knots, and because they are conscious of desperate exertion, they forget that their force is going anywhere rather than into the ball. It is often remarked that hard hitting does not depend on strength. No. It depends not on the strength a man has, but on the strength he exerts, at the right time and in the right direction; and strength is exerted in hitting, as in throwing a ball, in exact proportion to the rapidity of the whirl or circle which the bat or hand describes. The point of the bat moves faster in the circle than any other part; and, therefore, did not the jar, resulting from the want of resistance, place the point of hitting, as experience shows, a little higher up, the nearer the end the harder would be the hit. The wrist, ​however slight its force, acting with a multiplying power, adds greatly to the speed of this whirl.
Hard hitting, then, depends, first, on the freedom with which the arm revolves from the shoulder, unimpeded by constrained efforts and contortions of the body; next, on the play of the arm at the elbow; thirdly, on the wrists. Observe any cramped clumsy hitter, and you will recognise these truths at once. His elbow seems glued to his side, his shoulder stiff at the joint, and the little speed of his bat depends on a twist and a wriggle of his whole body.
Keep your body as composed and easy as the requisite adjustment of the left leg will admit; let your arms do the hitting; and remember the wrists. The whiz that meets the ear will be a criterion of increasing power. Practise hard hitting,—that is, the full and timely application of your strength, not only for the value of the extra score, but because hard hitting and correct and clean hitting are one and the same thing. Mere stopping balls and poking about in the blockhole is not cricket, however successful; and I must admit, that one of the most awkward, poking, vexatious blockers that ever produced a counterfeit of cricket, defied Bayley and Cobbett at Oxford in 1836,—three hours, and made five and thirty runs. Another friend, a better player, addicted to the same teasing game, in a match at ​Exeter in 1845, blocked away till his party, the N. Devon, won the match, chiefly by byes and wide balls! Such men might have turned their powers to much better account.
Some maintain that anything that succeeds is cricket; but not such cricket as full-grown men should vote a scientific and a manly exercise; otherwise, to "run cunning" might be Coursing, and to kill sitting Shooting. A player may happen to succeed with what is not generally a successful style,—winning in spite of his awkwardness, and not by virtue of it.
But there is another cogent reason for letting your arms, and not your body, do the work,—namely, that it makes all the difference to your sight whether the level of the eye remains the same as with a composed and easy hitter; or, unsteady and changing, as with the wriggling and the clumsy player. Whether a ball undulates in the air, or whether there is an equal undulation in the line of the eye which regards that ball, the confusion and indistinctness is the same. As an experiment, look at any distant object, and move your head up and down, and you will understand the confusion of sight to which I allude. The only security of a good batsman, as of a good shot, consists in the hand and eye being habituated to act together. Now, the hand may obey the eye when at rest, but have no such habit when in ​unsteady motion. And this shows how uncertain all hitting must be, when, either by the movement of the body or other cause, the line of sight is suddenly raised or depressed.
The same law of sight shows the disadvantage of men who stand at guard very low, and then suddenly raise themselves as the ball is coming.
The same law of sight explains the disadvantage of stepping in to hit, especially with a slow dropping ball: the eye is puzzled by a double motion—the change in the level of the ball, and the change in the level of the line of sight.
So much for our theory: now for experience! Look at Pilch and all fine players. How characteristic is the ease and repose of their figures—no hurry or trepidation. How little do their heads or bodies move! Bad players dance about, as if they stood on hot iron, a dozen times while the ball is coming, with precisely the disadvantage that attends an unsteady telescope. "Then you would actually teach a man how to see?" We would teach him how to give his eyes a fair chance. Of sight, as of quickness, most players have enough, if they would only make good use of it.
To see a man wink his eyes and turn his head away is not uncommon the first day of partridge shooting, and quite as common at the wicket. An undoubting judgment and knowledge of the principles of batting literally improves the sight, for ​it increases that calm confidence which is essential for keeping your eyes open and in a line to see clearly.
Sight of a ball also depends on a habit of undivided attention both before and after delivery, and very much on health. A yellow bilious eye bespeaks a short innings: so, be very careful what you eat and drink when engaged to play a match. At a match at Purton in 1836, five of the Lansdowne side, after supping on crab and champagne, could do nothing but lie on the grass. But your sight may be seriously affected when you do not feel actually ill. So Horace found at Capua:—
"Namque pilâ lippis inimicum et ludere crudis."
Straight and Upright Play.—To be a good judge of a horse, to have good common sense, and to hit straight and upright at Cricket, are qualifications never questioned without dire offence. Yet few, very few, ever play as upright as they might play, and that even to guard their three stumps. To be able, with a full and upright bat, to play well over and to command a ball a few inches to the Off, or a little to the leg, is a a very superior and rare order of ability.
The first exercise for learning upright play is to practise several times against an easy bowler, with both hands on the same side of the handle of the bat. Not that this is the way to hold a bat ​In play, though the bat so held must be upright; but this exercise of rather poking than playing will inure you to the habit and method of upright play. Afterwards shift your hands to their proper position, and practise slipping your left hand round into the same position, while In the act of coming forward.
But be sure you stand up to your work, or close to your blockhole; and let the bowler admonish you every time you shrink away or appear afraid of the ball. Much practice Is required before it is possible for a young player to attain that perfect composure and Indifference to the ball that characterises the professor. The least nervousness or shrinking is sure to draw the bat out of the perpendicular. As to shrinking from the ball—I do not mean any apprehension of injury, but only the result of a want of knowledge of length or distance, and the result of uncertainty as to how the ball is coming, and how to prepare to meet it. Nothing distinguishes the professor from the amateur more than the composed and unshrinking posture in which he plays a ball.
Practice alone will prevent shrinking: so encourage your bowler continually to remind you of it. As to practising with a bowler, you see some men at Lord's and the University grounds batting hour after hour, as if cricket were to be taken by ​storm. To practise long at one time is positively injurious. For about one hour a man may practise to advantage; for a second hour, he may rather improve his batting even by keeping wicket, or acting long stop. Anything is good practice for batting which only habituates the hand and eye to act together.
The next exercise is of a more elegant kind, and quite coincident with your proper game. Always throw back the point of the bat, while receiving the ball, to the top of the middle stump, as in figure, page 114; then the handle will point to the bowler, and the whole bat be in the line of the wicket. By commencing in this position, you cannot fail to bring your bat straight and full upon the ball. If you take up your bat straight, you cannot help hitting straight; but if once you raise the point of the bat across the wicket, to present a full bat for that ball is quite impossible.
One advantage of this exercise is that it may be practised even without a bowler. The path of a field, with ball and bat, and a stick for a stump, are all the appliances required. Place the ball before you, one, two, or more feet in advance, and more or less On or Off, at discretion. Practise hitting with right foot always fixed, and with as upright and full a bat as possible: keep your left elbow up, and always over the ball.
​This exercise will teach, at the same time, the full powers of the bat; what style of hitting is most efficacious; at what angle you smother the ball, and at what you can hit clean; only, be careful to play in form; and always see that your right foot has not moved before you follow to pick up the ball. Fixing the right foot is alone a great help to upright play; for while the right foot remains behind, you are so completely over a straight ball, and in a form to present a full bat, that you will rarely play across the ball. Firmness in the right foot is also essential to hard hitting, for you cannot exert much strength unless yott stand in a firm and commanding position.
Upright and straight hitting, then, requires, briefly, the point of the bat thrown back to the middle stump as the ball is coming; secondly, the left elbow well up; and, thirdly, the right foot fixed, and near the blockhole.
Never play a single ball without strict attention to these three rules. At first you will feel cramped and powerless; but practice will soon give ease and elegance, and form the habit not only of all sure defence, but of all certain hitting: for, the straight player has always wood enough and to spare in the way of the ball; whereas, a deviation of half an inch leaves the cross-player at fault. Mr. William Ward once played a single-wicket match with a thick stick, against another ​with a bat; yet these are not much more than the odds of good straight play against cross play. At Cheltenham College the first Eleven plays the second Eleven "a broomstick match."
When a player hits almost every time he raises his bat, the remark is, What an excellent eye that batsman has! But, upright play tends far more than eye to certainty in hitting. It is not easy to miss when you make the most of every inch of your bat. But when you trust to the width alone, a slight error produces a miss, and not uncommonly a catch.
The great difficulty in learning upright play consists in detecting when you are playing across. So your practice-bowler must remind you of the slightest shifting of the foot, shrinking from the wicket, or declination of your bat. Straight bowling is more easy to stand up to without nervous shrinking, and slow bowling best reveals every weak point, because a slow ball must be played: it will not play itself. Many stylish players are beaten by slow bowling; some, because never thoroughly grounded in the principles of correct play and judgment of lengths; others, because hitting by rule and not at the ball. System with scientific players is apt to supersede sight; so take care as the mind's eye opens the natural eye does not shut.
Underhand bowling is by far the best for a ​learner, and learners are, or should be, a large class. Being generally at the wicket, it produces the straightest play: falling stumps are "no flatterers, but feelingly remind us what we are." Caldecourt, who had a plain, though judicious, style of bowling, once observed a weak point in Mr. Ward's play, and levelled his stumps three times in about as many balls. Many men boasting, as Mr. Ward then did, of nearly the first average of his day, would have blamed the bowler, the ground, the wind, and, in short, any thing but themselves; but Mr. Ward, a liberal patron of the game, in the days of his prosperity, gave Caldecourt a guinea for his judgment in the game and his useful lesson. "Such," Dr. Johnson would say, "is the spirit and self-denial of those whose memories are not doomed to decay" with their bats, but play cricket for "immortality."
Playing Forward and Back.—And now about length-balls, and when to play forward at the pitch, and when back for a better sight of the rebound.
A length-ball is one that pitches at a puzzling length from the bat. This length cannot be reduced to any exact and uniform measurement, depending on the delivery of the bowler and the reach of the batsman.
For more intelligible explanation, I must refer you to your friends.
​Every player is conscious of one particular length that puzzles him,—of one point between himself and the bowler, in which he would rather that the ball should not pitch. "There is a length-ball that almost blinds you," said an experienced player at Lord's. There is a length that makes many a player shut his eyes and turn away his head; "a length," says Mr. Felix, "that brings over a man most indescribable emotions." There are two ways to play such balls: to discriminate is difficult, and, "if you doubt, you are lost." Let a be the farthest point
to which a good player can reach, so as to plant his bat at the proper angle, at once preventing a catch, stopping a shooter, and intercepting a bailer. Then, at any point short of a, should the bat be placed, the ball may rise over the bat if held to the ground, or shoot under if the bat is a little raised. At b the same single act of planting the bat cannot both cover a bailer and stop a shooter. Every ball which the batsman can ​reach, as at a, may be met with a full bat forward; and, being taken at the pitch, it is either stopped or driven away with all its rising, cutting, shooting, or twisting propensities undeveloped. If not stopped at a, the ball may rise and shoot in six lines at least; so, if forced to play back, you have six things to guard against instead of one. Still, any ball you cannot cover forward, as at b, must be played back; and nearly in the attitude shown in page 115. This back play gives as long a sight of the ball as possible, and enables the player either to be up for a bailer or down for a shooter.
More Hard Nuts.—Why do certain lengths puzzle, and what is the nature of all this puzzling emotion? It is a sense of confusion and of doubt. At the moment of the pitch, the ball is lost in the ground; so you doubt whether it will rise, or whether it will shoot—whether it will twist, or come in straight. The eye follows the ball till it touches the ground: till this moment there is no great doubt, for its course is known to be uniform. I say no great doubt, because there is always some doubt till the ball has passed some yards from the bowler's hand. The eye cannot distinguish the direction of a ball approaching till it had seen a fair portion of its flight. Then only can you calculate what the rest of the flight will be. Still, before the ball has pitched, the first doubt ​is resolved, and the batsman knows the ball's direction; but, when once it touches the ground, the change of light alone (earth instead of air being the background) is trying to the eye. Then, at the rise, recommences all the uncertainty of a second delivery; for, the direction of the ball has once more to be ascertained, and that requires almost as much time for sight as will sometimes bring the ball into the wicket.
All this difficulty of sight applies only to the batsman; to him the ball is advancing and foreshortened in proportion as it is straight. If the ball is rather wide, or if seen, as by Point, from the side, the ball may be easily traced, without confusion, from first to last. It is the fact of an object approaching perfectly straight to you, that confuses your sense of distance. A man standing on a railway cannot judge of the nearness of the engine; nor a man behind a target of the approach of the arrow; whereas, seen obliquely, the flight is clear. Hence a long hop is not a puzzling length, because there is time to ascertain the second part of the course or rebound. A toss is easy because one course only. The tice also, and the half-volley, or any over-pitched balls, are not so puzzling, because they may be met forward, and the two parts of the flight reduced to one. Such is the philosophy of forward play, intended to obviate the batsman's chief difficulty, ​which is, with the second part, or, the rebound of the ball.
The following are good rules:—
1. Meet every ball at the pitch by forward play which you can conveniently cover.
Whatever ball you can play forward, you can play safely—as by one single movement. But in playing the same ball back, you give yourself two things to think of instead of one—stopping and keeping down a bailer; and, stopping a shooter. Every ball is the more difficult to play back in exact proportion to the ease with which it might be played forward. The player has a shorter sight, and less time to see the nature of the rise; so the ball crowds upon him, affording neither time nor space for effective play. Never play back but of necessity; meet every ball forward which you can conveniently cover—I say conveniently, because, if the pitch of the ball cannot be reached without danger of losing your balance, misplacing your bat, or drawing your foot out of your ground, that ball should be considered out of reach, and be played back. This rule many fine players, in their eagerness to score, are apt to violate; so, if the ball rises abruptly, they are bowled or caught. There is also danger of playing wide of the ball, if you over-reach.
2. Some say, When in doubt play back. Certainly all balls may be played back; but many it ​is almost impracticable to play forward. But since the best forward players may err, the following hint, founded on the practice of Fuller Pilch, will suggest an excellent means of getting out of a difficulty:—Practise the art of half-play; that is, practise going forward to balls a little beyond your reach, and then, instead of planting your bat near the pitch, which is supposed too far distant to be effectually covered, watch for the ball about half-way, being up if it rises, and down if it shoots. By this half-play, which I learnt from one of Pilch's pupils, I have often saved my wicket when I found myself forward for a ball out of reach; though before, I felt defenceless, and often let the ball pass either under or over my bat. Still half-play, though a fine saving clause for proficients, is but a choice of evils, and no practice for learners, as forming a bad habit. By trying too many ways, you spoil your game.
3. Ascertain the extent of your utmost reach forward, and practise accordingly. The simplest method is to fix your right foot at the crease, and try how far forward you can conveniently plant your bat at the proper angle; then, allowing that the ball may be covered at about three feet from its pitch, you will see at once how many feet you can command in front of the crease. Pilch could command from ten to twelve feet. Some short men will command ten feet; that is to say, they ​will safely meet forward every ball which pitches within that distance from the crease.
There are two ways of holding a bat in playing forward. The position of the hands, as of Pilch, in the frontispiece, standing at guard, will not admit of a long reach forward. Bat by shifting the left hand behind the bat, the action is free, and the reach unimpeded.
Every learner must practise this shifting of the left hand in forward play. The hand will soon come round naturally. Also, learn to reach forward with composure and no loss of balance. Play forward evenly and gracefully, with rather an elastic movement. Practice will greatly increase your reach. Take care you do not lose sight of the ball, as many do; and, look at the ball itself, not merely at the spot where you
expect it to pitch. Much depends on commencing at the proper moment, and not being in a hurry. ​Especially avoid any catch or flourish. Come forward, foot and bat together, most evenly and most quietly.
Forward play may be practised almost as well in a room as in a cricket-field: better still with a ball in the path of a field. To force a ball back to the bowler or long-field by hard forward play is commonly called Driving; and driving you may practise without any bowler, and greatly improve in balance and correctness of form, and thus increase the extent of your reach, and habituate the eye to a correct discernment of the point at which forward play ends and back play begins. By practice you will attain a power of coming forward with a spring, and playing hard or driving. All fine players drive nearly every ball they meet forward, and this driving admits of so many degrees of strength that sometimes it amounts to quite a hard hit. "I once," said Clarke, "had thought there might be a school opened for cricket in the winter months; for, you may drill a man to use a bat as well as a broad-sword." With driving, as with half-play, be not too eager—play forward surely and steadily at first, otherwise the point of the bat will get in advance, or the hit be badly timed, and give a catch to the bowler. This is one error into which the finest forward players have sometimes gradually fallen—a vicious habit, formed from an overweening confidence and ​success upon their own ground. Comparing notes lately with an experienced player, we both remembered a time when we thought we could make hard and free hits even off those balls which good players play gently back to the bowler; but eventually a succession of short innings sent us back to safe and sober play.
Sundry other hits are made, contrary to every rule, by players accustomed to one ground or one set of bowlers. Many an Etonian has found that a game, which succeeded in the Shooting fields, has proved an utter failure when all was new at Lord's or in a country match.
Every player should practise occasionally with professional bowlers; for, they ook to the principle of play, and point out radical errors even in showy hits. Even Pilch will request a friend to stand by him in practice to detect any shifting of the foot or other bad habit, into which experience teaches that the best men unconsciously fall. I would advise every good player to take one or two such lessons at the beginning of the season. A man cannot see himself, and will hardly believe that he is taking up his bat across wicket, sawing across at a draw, tottering over instead of steady, moving off his ground at leg balls, or very often playing forward with a flourish instead of full on the ball, and making often most childish ​mistakes which need only be mentioned to be avoided.
One great difficulty, we observed, consists in correct discrimination of length and instantaneous decision. To form correctly as the ball pitches, there is time enough, but none to spare: time only to act, no time to think. So also with shooting, driving, and various kinds of exercises, at the critical moment all depends not on thought, but habit: by constant practice, the time requisite for deliberation becomes less and less, till at length we are unconscious of any deliberation at all,—acting, as it were, by intuition or instinct, for the occasion prompts the action: then, in common language, we "do it naturally," or, have formed that habit which is "a second nature."
In this sense, a player must form a habit of correct decision in playing forward and back. Till he plays by habit, he is not safe: the sight of the length must prompt the corresponding movement. Look at Fuller Pilch, or Mr. C. Taylor, and this rule will be readily understood; for, with such players, every ball is as naturally and instinctively received by its appropriate movement as if the player were an automaton, and the ball touched a spring: so quickly does forward play, or back, and the attitude for off-cut or leg-hit, appear to coincide with, or rather to anticipate, each suitable length. All this quickness, ease, ​and readiness marks a habit of correct play; and the question is, how to form such a habit.
All the calmness or composure we admire in proficients results from a habit of playing each length in one way, and in one way only. To attain this habit, measure your reach before the crease, as you begin to practise with a bowler; and, make a mark visible to the bowler, but not such as will divert your own eye.
Having fixed such a mark, let your bowler pitch, as nearly as he can, sometimes on this side of the mark, sometimes on that. After every ball, you have only to ask, Which side? and you will have demonstrative proof whether your play has been right or wrong. Constant practice, with attention to the pitch, will habituate your eye to lengths, and enable you to decide in a moment how to play.
For my own part, I have rarely practised for years without this mark. It enables me to ascertain, by referring to the bowler, where any ball has pitched. To know at a glance the exact length of a ball, however necessary, is not quite as easy to the batsman as to the bowler; and, without practising with a mark, you may remain a long time in error.
After a few days' practice, you will become as certain of the length of each ball, and of your ability to reach it, as if you actually saw the ​mark, for you will carry the measurement in "your mind's eye."
So far well: you have gained a perception of lengths and distance; the next thing is, to apply this knowledge. Therefore, bear in mind you have a habit to form. No doubt, many will laugh at this philosophy. Pilch does not know the "theory of moral habits," I dare say; but he knows well enough that wild practice spoils play; and if to educated men I please to say that, wild play involves the formation of a set of bad habits to hang about you, and continually interfere with good intentions, where is the absurdity? How should you like to be doomed to play with some mischievous fellow, always tickling your elbow, and making you spasmodically play forward, when you ought to play back, or, hit round or cut, when you ought to play straight? Precisely such a mischievous sprite is a bad habit. Till you have got rid of him, he is always liable to come across you and tickle you out of your innings: all your resolution is no good. Habit is a much stronger principle than resolution. Accustom the hand to obey sound judgment, otherwise it will follow its old habit instead of your new principles.
To borrow an admirable illustration from Plato, which Socrates' pupil remarked was rather apt than elegant,—"While habit keeps up itching, man can't help scratching." And what is most ​remarkable in bad habits of play is, that, long after a man thinks he has overcome them, by some chance association, the old trick appears again, and a man feels (oh! fine for a moralist!) one law in his mind and another law—or rather, let us say, he feels a certain latent spring in him ever liable to be touched, and disturb all the harmony of his cricketing economy.
Having, therefore, a habit to form, take the greatest pains that you methodically play forward to the over-pitched, and back to the under-pitched, balls. My custom was, the moment the ball pitched, to say audibly to myself "forward," or "back." By degrees I was able to calculate the length sooner and sooner before the pitch, having, of course, the more time to prepare; till, at last, no sooner was the ball out of the bowler's hand, than ball and bat were visibly preparing for each other's reception. After some weeks' practice, forward and back play became so easy, that I cease to think about it: the very sight of the ball naturally suggesting the appropriate movement; in other words, I had formed a habit of correct play in this particular.
"Suave mari magno," says Lucretius; that is, it is delightful, from the vantage ground of science, to see others floundering in a sea of error, and to feel a happy sense of comparative security;—so, was it no little pleasure to see the many ​wickets that fell, or the many catches which were made, from defects I had entirely overcome.
For, without the habit aforesaid, a man will often shut his eyes, and remove his right fingers, as if the bat were hot, and then look behind him and find his wicket down. A second, will advance a foot forward, feel and look all abroad, and then try to seem unconcerned, if no mischief happens. A third, will play back with the shortest possible sight of the ball, and hear his stumps rattle before he has time to do anything. A fourth, will stand still, a fixture of fuss and confusion, with the same result; while a fifth, will go gracefully forward, with straightest possible bat, and the most meritorious elongation of limb, and the ball will pass over the shoulder of his bat, traverse the whole length of his arms, and back, and colossal legs, tipping off the bails, or giving a chance to the wicket-keeper. Then, as Poins says of Falstaff, "The virtue of this jest will be the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us." For, when a man is out by this simple error in forward or backward play, it would take a volume to record the variety of his excuses.
The reason so much has been said about Habit is, partly, that the player may understand that bad habits are formed as readily as good; that a repetition of wild hits, or experimentalising with hard hits off good lengths, may disturb your quick ​perception of critical lengths, and give you an uncontrollable habit of dangerous hitting.
The Shooter.—This is the surest and most destructive ball that is bowled. Stopping shooters depends on correct position, on a habit of playing at the ball and not losing it after the pitch, and on a quick discernment of lengths.
The great thing is decision; to doubt is to lose time, and to lose time is to lose your wicket. And this decision requires a correct habit of forward and back play. But since prevention is better than cure, by meeting at the pitch every ball within your reach, you directly diminish the number, not only of shooters, but of the most dangerous of all shooters, because of those which afford the shortest time to play. But, supposing you cannot cover the ball at the pitch, and a shooter it must be, then
The first thing is, to have the bat always pointed back to the wicket, as in fig. 1. page 115; thus you will drop down on the ball, and have all the time and space the case admits of. If the bat is not previously thrown back, when the ball shoots the player has two operations,—the one, to put the bat back; and the other, to ground it: instead of one simple drop down alone. I never saw any man do this better than Wenman, when playing the North and South match at Lord's in 1836. Redgate was in his prime, and almost all his balls ​were shooting down the hill; and, from the good time and precision with which Wenman dropped down upon some dozen shooters, with all the pace, and spin, for which Redgate was famous—the ground being hardened into brick by the sun—I have ever considered Wenman equal to any batsman of his day.
The second thing is, to prepare for back play with the first possible intimation that the ball will require it. A good player descries the enemy, and drops back as soon as the ball is out of the bowler's hand.
The third—a golden rule for batsmen—is: expect a good length to shoot, and you will have time, if it rises: but if you expect it to rise, you are too late if it shoots.
The Bail Ball.—First, the attitude is that of fig. 1. The bat thrown back to the bails is indispensable for quickness: if you play a bailer too late, short slip is placed on purpose to catch you out; therefore watch the ball from the bowler's hand, and drop back on your wicket in good time. Also, take the greatest pains in tracing the ball every inch from the hand to the bat. Look hard for the twist, or a "break" will be fatal. To keep the eye steadily on the ball, and not lose it at the pitchy is a hint even for experienced players: so make this the subject of attentive practice.
​The most difficult of all bailers are those which ought not to be allowed to come in as bailers at all, those which should be met at the pitch. Such over-pitched balls give neither time nor space, if you attempt to play them back.
Every length ball is difficult to play back, just in proportion to the ease with which it could be covered forward. A certain space, from nine to twelve feet, before the crease is, to a practised batsman, so much terra firma, whereon pitching every ball is a safe stop or score. Practise with the chalk mark, and learn to make this terra firma as wide as possible.
The Draw is so called, I suppose, because, when perfectly made, there is no draw at all. Look at fig. 2. The bat is not drawn across the wicket, but hangs perpendicularly from the wrists; though the wrists of a good player are never idle, but bring the bat to meet the ball a few inches, and the hit is the natural angle formed by the opposing forces. "Say also," suggests Clarke, "that the ball meeting the bat, held easy in the hand, will turn it a little of its own force, and the wrists feel when to help it." This old rule hardly consists with the principle of meeting, the ball.
Fig. 2.
straight to meet a leg-stump ball without the line of the bat and the line of the ball forming an angle in crossing each other; and, by keeping your wrists well back, and giving a clear space between body and wicket, the Draw will follow of itself.
The bat must not be purposely presented edgeways in the least degree. Draw a full bat from the line of the middle stump to meet a leg-stump ​ball, and, as the line of the ball must make a veiy acute angle, you will have the benefit of a hit without lessening your defence. "A Draw is very dangerous with a ball that would hit the leg stump," some say; but only when attempted in the wrong way; for, how can a full bat increase your danger?
This mode of play will also lead to, what is most valuable but most rare, a correct habit of passing every ball the least to the Near side of middle stump dear away to the On side. This blocking between legs and wickets, first, obviates the ball going off legs into wicket; secondly, it keeps many awkward balls out of Slip's hands; and, thirdly, it makes single runs off the best balls.
Too little, now-a-days, is done with the Draw; too much is attempted by the "blind swipe," to the loss of many wickets.
Every man in a first-rate match who loses his wicket, while swiping round, ought to pay a forfeit to the Reward Fund.
The only balls for the Draw are those which threaten the wicket. To shuffle backwards half a yard, scraping the bat on the ground, or to let the ball pass one side the body with a blind swing on the other, are hits which to mention is to reprove.
Our good friend, Mr. Abraham Bass,—and ​what cricketer in the Midland Counties defers not to his judgment?—thinks that the Draw cannot be made quite so much of as we say, except by a left-handed man. The short-pitched balls which some draw, he thinks, are best played back to middle On, by a turn of the left arm to the On side.
Here Mr. Bass mentions a very good hit—a good variety—and one, too, little practised: his hit and the Draw are each good in their respective places. To discriminate every shade is impossible. "Mr. Taylor had most hits I ever saw," said Caldecourt, "and was a better player even than Lord Frederick; though Mr. Taylor's hits were not all legitimate:" so much the better; new combinations of old hits.
As to the old-fashioned hit under leg, Mr. Mynn, at Leicester, in 1836, gave great effect to one variety of it; a hit which Pilch makes useful, though hard to make elegant. Some say, with Caldecourt, such balls ought always to be drawn: but is it not a useful variety?
Draw or Glance from off Stump.—What is true of the Leg stump is true of the Off, care being taken of catch to Slips. Every ball played from two Off stumps, by free play of wrist and left shoulder well over, should go away among the Slips. Play hard on the ball; the ​ball must never hit a dead bat; and every so-called block, from off stumps, must be a hit.
Commence, as always, from fig. 1.; stand close up to your wicket; weight on pivot-foot; balance-foot ready to come over as required. This is the only position from which you can command the off stump.
Bear with me, my friends, in dwelling so much on this Off-play. Many fine cutters could never in their lives command off stump with a full and upright bat. Whence come the many misses of off-hits? Observe, and you will see, it is because the bat is slanting, or it must sweep the whole space through which the ball could rise.
By standing close up, and playing well over your wicket with straight bat, and throwing, by means of left leg, the body forwards over a ball rising to the off-stump, you may make an effective hit from an off-bailer without lessening your defence; for how can hard blocking, with a full bat, be dangerous? All that is required is, straight play and a free wrist, though certainly a tall man has here a great advantage.
A free Wrist.—Without wrist play there can be no good style of batting. Do not be puzzled about "throwing your body into your hit." Absurd, except with straight hits—half-volley, for instance. Suspend a ball, oscillating by a string from a beam, keep your right foot fixed, ​and use the left leg to give the time and command of the ball and to adjust the balance, and you will soon learn the power of the wrists and arms. Also, use no heavy bats; 2 lbs. 2 oz. is heavy enough for any man who plays with his wrists. The wrist has, anatomically, two movements; the one up and down, the other from side to side; and to the latter power, by much the least, the weight of the bat must be proportioned. "My old-fashioned bat," said Mr. E. H. Budd, "weighed nearly three pounds, and Mr. Ward's a pound more."
The Off-hit, here intended, is made with upright bat, where the horizontal cut were dangerous or uncertain. It may be made with any off-ball, one or two feet wide of the wicket. The left shoulder must be well over the ball, and this can only be effected by crossing, as in fig. 3. p. 159., left leg over. This, one of the best players agrees, is a correct hit, provided the ball be pitched well up; otherwise he would apply the Cut: but the cut serves only when a ball rises; and I am unwilling to spare one that comes in near the ground.
This upright off-hit, with left leg crossed over, may be practised with a bat and ball in the path of a field. You may also devise some "Chamber Practice," without any ball, or with a soft ball suspended—not a bad in-door exercise in cold ​weather. When proficient, you will find that you have only to hit at the ball, and the balance-foot will naturally cross over and adjust itself.
In practising with a bowler, I have often fixed a fourth stump, about six inches from off-stump, and learnt to guard it with upright bat. Experto crede, you may learn to sweep with almost an upright bat balls as much as two feet to the Off. But this is a hit for balls requiring back play, but
Cover-hit is the hit for over-pitched off-balls. Come forward hard to meet an off-ball; and then, as your bat moves in one line, and the ball meets it in another, the resultant will be Cover-hit. By no means turn the bat: a full face is not only safe but effective.
With all off-hits beware of the bias of the ball to the off, and play well over the ball—very difficult for young players. Never think about what off-hits you can make, unless you keep the ball safely down.
The fine square leg-hit is similar to cover-hit, though on the other side. To make cover-hit clean, and not waste power against the ground, you must take full advantage of your height, and play the bat well down on the ball from your hip, timing nicely, eye still on the ball, and inclining the bat neither too little nor too much.
The Forward Cut, a name by which I would ​distinguish another off-hit, is a hit made by Butler, Guy, Dakin, Parr, and indeed especially by the Nottingham men, who, Clarke thinks, "hit all round them" better than men of any other county (see fig. 3.). The figures being foreshortened as seen by the bowler, the artist unwillingly sacrifices effect to show the correct
Fig. 3.
position of the feet. This hit may be made from balls too wide and too low for the backward cut. ​Cross the left leg over, watch the ball from its pitch and you may make off-hits from balls low or cut balls high (unless very high, and then you have time to drop the bat) with more commanding power than in any other position. Some good players do not like this crossing of left foot, preferring the cutting attitude of fig. 3.; but I know from experience and observation, that there is not a finer or more useful hit in the field; for, if a ball is some two feet to the Off, it matters not whether over-pitched or short-pitched, the same position, rather forward, equally applies.
The Forward Cut sends the ball between Point and Middle-wicket, an open part of the field, and even to Long-field sometimes: no little advantage. Also, it admits of much greater quickness. You may thus intercept forward, what you would be too late to cut back.
To learn it, fix a fourth stump in the ground, one foot or more wide to the Off; practise carefully keeping right foot fixed, and crossing left over, and preserve the cutting attitude; and this most brilliant hit is easily acquired.
When you play a ball Off, do not lose your balance and stumble awkwardly one foot over the other, but end in good form, well on your feet. Even good players commit this fault; also, in playing back some players look as if they would tumble over their wicket.
​The Cut is generally considered the most delightful hit in the game. The Cut proper is made by very few. Many make Off-hits, but few "cut from the bails between short slip and point with a late horizontal bat—cutting, never by guess but always by sight, at the ball itself; the cut applying to rather short-pitched balls, not actually long hops; and that not being properly a cut which is in advance of the point." Such is the definition of Mr. Bradshaw, whom a ten years' retirement has not prevented from being known as one of the best hitters of the day.
Fig. 4
and that with far greater certainty, though not with so brilliant an effect. Pilch and many of the steadiest and best players never make the genuine cut. "Mr. Felix," says Clarke, "cuts splendidly; but, in order to do so, he cuts before he sees the ball, and thus misses two out of three." Neither do I believe that any man will reconcile the habitual straight play and command of off-stump, which distinguishes Pilch, with a cutting game. Each virtue, even in Cricket, has its excess: fine Leg-hitters are apt to endanger the ​leg-stump; fine Cutters, the Off. For, the Cutter must begin to take up his altered position so soon, that the idea must be running in his head almost while the ball is being delivered; then, the first impulse brings the bat at once out of all defensive and straight play. Right shoulder involuntarily starts back; and, if at the wrong kind of ball, the wicket is exposed, and all defence at an end. But with long-hops there is time enough to cut; the difficulty is with good balls: and, to cut them, not by guess but, by sight. Fig. 5. represents a cut at a ball nearer the wicket, the right foot being drawn back to gain space.
So much for the abuse of Cutting. If the ball does not rise, there can be no Cut, however loose the bowling; though, with the other Off-hits, two or three might be scored. The most winning game is that which plays the greatest number of balls—an art in which no man can surpass Baldwinson of Yorkshire. Still a first-rate player should have a command of every hit: a bowler may be pitching uniformly short, and the balls may be rising regularly: in this case, every one would like to see a good Cutter at the wicket.
To learn the Cut, suspend a ball from a string and a beam, oscillating backwards and forwards—place yourself as at a wicket, and experimentalise. You will find:—
Fig. 5.
Cut late—"off the bails:" then only can you use the point of your bat.
2. You have no power, unless you turn on the basis of your feet, and front the ball, your back being almost turned upon the bowler, at the moment of cutting.
3. Your muscles have very little power in Cutting quite horizontally, but very great power in Cutting down on the ball.
​This agrees with the practice of the best players. Mr. Bradshaw follows the ball and cuts very late, cutting down. He drops his bat, apparently, on the top of the ball. Lord Frederick used to describe the old-fashioned Cutting as done in the same way. Mr. Bradshaw never Cuts but by sight; and since, when the eye catches the rise of a good length ball, not a moment must be lost, his bat is thrown back just a little—an inch or two higher than the bails (he stoops a little for the purpose)—and dropped on the ball in an instant, by play of the wrist alone. Thus does he obtain his peculiar power of Cutting even fair-length balls by sight.
Harry Walker, Robinson, and Saunders were the three great Cutters; and they all Cut very late. But the under-hand bowling suited cutting (proper) better than round-armed; for all Offhitting is not cutting. Mr. Felix gives wonderful speed to the ball, effected by cutting down, adding the weight of a descending bat to the free and full power of the shoulder: he would hardly have time for such exertion if he hit with the precision of Mr. Bradshaw, and not hitting till he saw the ball.
Lord Frederick found fault with Mr. Felix's picture of "the Cut," saying it implied force from the whirl of the bat; whereas a cut should proceed from wrists alone, descending with bat in ​hand,—precisely Mr. Bradshaw's hit. "Excuse me, my Lord," said Mr. Felix, "that's not a Cut, but only a pat." The said pat or wrist play, I believe to be the only kind of cutting by sight, for good-length balls.
To encourage elegant play, and every variety of hit, we say practise each kind of cut, both Lord Frederick's pat and Mr. Felix's off-hit, and the Nottingham forward cut, with left leg over; but beware of using either in the wrong place. A man of one hit is easily managed. A good off-hitter should send the ball according to its pitch, not to one point only, but to three or four. Old Fennex used to stand by Saunders, and say no hitting could be finer—"no hitter such a fool—see, sir, they have found out his hit—put a man to stop his runs—still, cutting, nothing but cutting—why doesn't the man hit somewhere else?" So with Jarvis of Nottingham, a fine player and one of the best cutters of his day, when a man was placed for his cut, it greatly diminished his score. For off-balls we have given, Off-play to the slips—Cover hit—the Nottingham hit more towards middle wicket; and, the Cut between slip and point—four varieties. Let each have its proper place, till an old player can say, as Fennex said of Beldham, "He hit quick as lightning all round him. He appeared to have no hit in particular: ​you would never place a man against him: where the ball was pitched there it was hit away."
Leg-hitting.—Besides the draw, there are two distinct kinds of leg-hits—one forward, the other back. The forward leg-hit is made, as in fig. 6., by advancing the left foot near the pitch of the ball, and then hitting down upon the ball with a free arm, the bat being more or less
Fig. 6.
The Short-pitched Leg Ball needs no comment, save that, according as it is more or less to the wicket, you may,—1. Draw it; 2. Play it by a new hit, to be explained, a Draw or glance outside your leg; 3. You may step back on your wicket to gain space, and play it away to ​middle On, or cut it round, according to your right of it.
But in leg-hitting, beware of a "blind swipe," or that chance hit, by guess of where the ball will rise, which some make when the bat cannot properly command the pitch. This blind hit is often made at a ball not short enough to play by sight back, nor long enough to command forward. Parr advances left foot as far as he can, and hits where the ball ought to be. But this he would hardly advise, except you can nearly command the pitch; otherwise, a blind swing of the bat, although the best players are sometimes betrayed into it, is by no means to be recommended.
Reader, do you ever make the square hit On? Or, do you ever drive a ball back from the leg-stump to long-field On? Probably not Clarke complains that this good old hit is gone out, and that one more man is thereby brought about the wicket. If you cannot make this hit, you have evidently a faulty style of play. So, practise diligently with leg-bails, till balls from two leg-stumps go to long-field On, and balls a little wide of leg-stump go nearly square; and do not do this by a kind of push—much too common,—but by a real hit, left shoulder forward.
Also, do you ever draw out of your ground in a leg-hit? Doubly dangerous is this—danger of stumping and danger of missing easy hits. If ​once you move your pivot foot, you lose that self-command essential for leg-hits. So, practise, In your garden or your room, the stride and swing of the bat, till you have learnt to preserve your balance.
One of the best leg-hitters is Dakin: and his rule is: keep your right foot firm on your ground; advance the left straight to the pitch, and as far as you can reach, and hit as straight at the pitch as you can, just as if you were hitting to longfield: as the lines of bat and ball form an angle, the ball will fly away square of itself.
My belief is, the Wykehamists introduced the art of hitting leg-balls at the pitch. When, in 1833, at Oxford, Messrs. F. B. Wright and Payne scored above sixty each off Lillywhite and Broadbridge, it was remarked by the players, they had never seen their leg-hit before. Clarke says he showed how to make forward leg-hits at Nottingham. For, the Nottingham men used to hit after leg-balls, and miss them, till he found the way of intercepting them at the rise, and hitting square.
And this will be a fair occasion for qualifying certain remarks which would appear to form what is aptly called a "toe-in-the-hole" player.
When I spoke so strongly about using the right foot as a pivot, and the left as a balance foot, insisting, also, on not moving the right foot, I addressed myself not to proficients, but to ​learners. Such is the right position for almost all the hits on the ball, and this fixing of the foot is the only way to keep a learner in his proper form.
Experienced players—I mean those who have passed through the University Clubs, and aspire to be chosen in the Gentlemen's Eleven of All England—must be able to move each foot on its proper occasion, especially with slow bowling. Clarke says, "If I see a man set fast on his legs, I know he can't play my bowling." The reason is, as we shall explain presently, that the accurate hitting necessary for slow bowling requires not long reaching, but a short, quick action of the arms and wrists, and activity on the legs, to shift the body to suit this hitting in narrow compass.
A practised player should also be able to go in to over-pitched balls, to give effect to his forward play. To be stumped out looks ill indeed; still, a first-rate player should have confidence and coolness enough to bide his time, and then go boldly and steadily in and hit away. If you do go in, take care you go far enough, and as far as the pitch; and, only go in to straight balls, for to those alone can you carry a full bat. And, never go in to make a free swing of the bat or tremendous swipe. Go in with a straight bat, not so much to hit, as to drive or block the ball hard away, or, as Clarke says, "to run the ball down." ​Stepping in only succeeds with cool and judicious hitters, who have some power of execution. All young players must be warned that, for any but a most practised player to leave his ground, is decidedly a losing game.
Supposing the batsman knows how to move his right foot back readily, then, a long-hop to the leg admits of various modes of play, which I feel bound to mention, though not to recommend; for, a first-rate player should at least know every hit: whether he will introduce it much or little into his game is another question.
A leg-ball that can be played by sight is sometimes played by raising the left leg. This is quite a hit of the old school,—of Sparkes and Fennex, for instance. Fennex's pupil, Fuller Pilch, commonly makes this hit. Some first-rate judges—Caldecourt among others—maintain it should never be made, but the Draw always used instead. Mr. Taylor found it a useful variety; for, before he used it, Wenman used to stump him from balls inside leg stump. For some lengths it has certainly the advantage of placing the ball in a more open part of the field.
Fig. 7.
Another hit there is which bears a name not very complimentary to Mr. James Dean; though Sampson, of Sheffield, attains in a similar manner remarkable certainty in meeting leg-balls, and not inelegantly. My attention was first called to this hit by watching the play of Mr. E. Reeves, who ​makes it with all the ease and elegance of the Draw, of which I consider it one variety. Clarke says, that with a ball scarcely wide of your leg, he thinks it a good hit: I have, therefore, given a drawing of it in the last page. When done correctly, and in its proper place, it is made by an easy and elegant movement of the wrists, and looks as pretty as the Draw; but this kind of forward play, which takes an awkward ball at its rise and places it on the On-side, however useful to Sampson of Sheffield and the very few who introduce it in its proper place,—this is a hit which nascitur non fit, must come naturally, as a variety of forward play. To study it, makes a poking game, and spoils the play of hundreds. So, beware how you practise the poke.
"The best way to score from short-pitched leg-balls," writes a very good hitter, "is to make a sort of sweep with the left foot, almost balancing yourself by the toe of the said left foot, and resting chiefly on the right foot,—at the same time drawing yourself upright and retiring towards the wicket. This of course is all one movement. In this position you make the heel of your right the pivot on which you turn, and move your left (but in a greater circle), so that both preserve the same parallel as at starting, and come round together; and this I regard as the great secret of a batsman's movement in this hit. This gives you the power ​of simply playing the ball down, if it rises much, and likewise of hitting hard if it keep within a foot of the ground Both Sampson and Parr score very much in this style."
However, with fast bowling, there are almost as many mistakes as runs made by hitting at these short-pitched leg-balls. Pilch, in his later days, would hardly meddle with them.
Lastly, as to leg-balls, remember that almost any one can learn to hit clean up (square, especially); the art is to play them down. Also, leg-hitting alone is very easy; but, to be a good Off-player, and an upright and straight player, and yet hit to leg freely, is very rare. We know a fine leg-hitter who lost his leg-hit entirely when he learnt to play better to the off.