# Cricket (Lyttelton, 1898)/Chapter 3

III
FIELDING
If there is one department of cricket where it may be doubted whether there has been any material progress made as compared with days gone by, I should say fielding is that one, and it ought to be better on the whole. Of course, it is altered in its character. Long-stops are not now required; long-leg is a thing of the past. If the bowling is of Richardson's pace, the wicket-keeper stands back, more men are placed in the slips, and, generally, I should say that, with the exception of the wicket-keep, short-slip has more catches than any other "field." Still, though it is not easy to compare past generations with this, I am of the opinion that more catches are missed than ought to be, and more care and attention should be ​bestowed upon this part of the game. It may be stated, as a more or less true axiom, that good fielding makes weak bowling strong; and if no feasible catches were dropped, very rarely would innings of 300 runs be seen. What visions of dropped catches pass through my mind as I look back over thirty years' experience of cricket—a chapter might be written on them—and how many old cricketers live, deep in whose hearts linger bitter memories of catches in the hands and out again. True, some men have hands that are not well adapted for holding catches. A small, fat, fleshy hand is one out of which the ball is apt to bound—it lacks grip and holding power—but even such hands, if the owners thereof would only hold them in the right position, would hold catches and not drop them. Some fields can hold catches however they come in reason, and, within limits, however they hold their hands; but I feel sure that boys ought to be taught, in high catches, to hold the two hands high up, even close to the face, ​like Herbert Marshall, an old Cambridge cricketer, used to do. Many a match have I played with him, and never can I call to mind any ball leaving his hands when once it got into them, and his hands were not by any means what you would call well shaped for catching. Many fielders hold their hands away from them, when it follows that the eye must be out of line with the ball, and this is a style which inspires no confidence in the mind of the spectator.
More training and care ought to be given to fielding and catching, for it must be remembered that, with the beautifully smooth wickets of these days, to miss catches is far more damaging to the chances of success than formerly, when the less easy wickets caused far more batsmen to be bowled than now.
To fast bowling in former days the method of arrangement of the fields consisted almost invariably of wicket-keep, longstop, short-slip, long-slip, point, cover-point, mid-off, long-on, short-leg, and long-leg; and if any change was made from this, it ​was that mid-on came round, and short-leg went third man. Nearly every match was played with the field placed as I have stated, and there were certain unwritten laws which were very faithfully observed. For instance, long-leg to one bowler used always to field cover-point to the other. It was always assumed that every bowler should be a born short-slip to the other bowler, and it was considered high treason that your chief bowlers should be put anywhere where they would be expected to throw, for fear of injuring their arm; this, I imagine, was the reason why they so frequently took short-slip. But the chief difference in the fielding between those days and these is the result of boundaries. Everything was run out, so throwing from long distances became absolutely necessary, and moreover very beautiful to look at; in fact, nothing prettier in cricket could be seen than a low, skimming, long hop, thrown in from eighty yards off, neatly handled by the wicket-keeper, the bails knocked off with no fuss, and the ​batsman run out by inches. Jack Smith, of Cambridge, W. Bury, H. M. Marshall, Daniel, of Cambridge University, and, at a later date, W. H. Game, for Oxford, were splendid specimens of long-leg fieldsmen. Game, notwithstanding that he played in the days of boundaries, was, to my mind, the finest thrower that ever lived. The old principle that you should run for the throw was not acted up to when Game had the ball in his hands near the ropes, and he was a grand catch too. The practical abolition of leg-hitting, by the wonderful accuracy of modern bowling, has robbed the game of no small amount of its æsthetic enjoyment, for, in the first place, a leg-hit is a lovely stroke to witness, as is a catch against the ropes, and lastly, prettier than any was the good throw-in.
To slow bowling in old days long-stop and long-slip were put out deep, one on the off side, the other on the on; long-leg was put square with the wicket, the chief difference being that, as compared with now, mid-on ​covers mid-on and short-leg, and an extra field is put between mid-off and cover. But how different is the whole method of fielding in these days! A bowler fields anywhere now except wicket-keep and in the deep field, while short-slip being, with the exception of wicket-keep, the most important man in the field (at any rate to fast bowling), fields there both ends; and so important is the fielding in the slips generally that a modern innovation has been found in the shape of a short-slip, the popular name for which is cover-slip, where Lohmann has covered himself with glory. He stands sometimes so close to short-slip that they may almost shake hands. The bowler fields wherever he is most at home; while some of the most brilliant fielding in modern times has been shown by the extra mid-off, with which the name of G. B. Studd will ever be associated. There is far more elasticity in the whole arrangement; if an off-hitter like Palairet is batting, third man is put back against the ropes to save the fours. One ​often sees two different men fielding cover-point, one to each bowler; but most marvellous of all is the sight of the modern wicket-keep standing up to fast bowling with no long-stop, a very striking instance of the excellence of the wickets and the accuracy of the bowling. It could not have been done in old days, because the shooter that missed bat and wicket must have gone for four or more byes, and so would the bumping ball. Still, it is a testimony to the wonderful skill of the modern wicket-keep, for it throws great responsibility upon him. The Australians started the innovation with Blackham, and at once struck the world of cricket with wonder, respect, and amazement. It must be remembered, however, that for this change almost as much credit is due to the bowler as the wicket-keep; and if anybody would like to try the experiment of standing up to the wicket while Mold was bowling, he would be astonished to find how small a proportion of balls pass the wicket at all. The few balls that pass ​the bat generally hit the wicket, and catching is the important point.
The arrangement of the field is not really very difficult to a man of intelligence who takes the trouble to watch the play. First-class cricketers play together in rather a select circle—in fact, everybody knows about everybody. When Jessop and O'Brien come in you must have two fields out deep; if Palairet, a field out deep on the off side; if Jackson, an active man must be on the on side, and so on. If the wicket is hard and inclined to bump, impress upon short-slip that his post is no sinecure, and rebuke any field who keeps his hands in his pockets and apparently takes no interest in the game. If a fieldsman, young probably, impetuous certainly, is seen to rush in and charge a ball, a captain should exercise a chastening and moderating demeanour upon him; and a good word of advice to bowlers is, that they should be careful not to begin their over until the fields are in their places and ready. If hitters are in, and the field is ​getting demoralised, don't hurry; take time, and put your sure catches out deep.
Cricketers are fond of saying that the highest faculties of the brain are necessary to enable anybody to become really great; and though it may appear to the ignorant that all that is required of a field is that he should be sharp and alert, in reality a judge of the game can detect stupidity in a field as easily as in a batsman or bowler. One sort of field there is who never seems to watch the play, or if he does, he can draw no inferences therefrom. He is put in a certain place, and then he stands glued to the spot as if he had taken root. This may be exactly right to one sort of bat, but is certainly not so to another, and he ought to be able to discover this for himself by observing the batsman's style. Another common form of stupidity is that when the batsmen become confused in running, the field often never thinks, but hurls the ball in wrong end, and the chance of a "run out" is thrown away. There are many other little ​ways in which a man of intelligence may be detected at once.
In no department of the game has there been a more wonderful advance than in amateur wicket-keeping. Thirty years ago the disparity between professionals and amateurs in this respect was as great as it was in the case of bowling. Lockyer, Pooley, Plumb, Finder, and Philips were streets ahead of the gentlemen. These might be represented by Bush, Winter, Haygarth, Round, and Bissett. In these days Storer, Lilley, and Hunter are probably only a little better than Newton, M'Gregor, and Philipson; and the past ten years has seen such amateur giants as Alfred Lyttelton, Tylecote, Wickham, Kemble, Gay, Lewis, and Leatham, in addition to the above-named. Professionals are as good. One need only mention D. Hunter, C. Smith, Sherwin, Pilling, Board, Pike, Butt, and Huish, besides the great three. Still there is little to choose, and I confess that I cannot give a sound reason to explain the change, and the fact is a curious one.
​I may attach too much importance to the aesthetic side of cricket, but nobody can deny that really good fielding is a lovely thing to see. The quiet, neat field, with a low, easy return, like the Rev. W. Law, Royle, and A. Bannerman, is a mixture of skill and grace that makes fielding, along with batting and bowling, the aesthetic treat that any game to be called great must have. I have discussed wicket-keeping; but if you want to teach a youth to keep well, you must first of all instil into his mind the cardinal principle that both feet must be kept still; and next, that, as there are at least three times more catching chances given than stumping, this must be first of all attended to. So do not let him play to the gallery by laying himself out to stumping off leg balls, for three catches out of four are on the off side, or just over the wicket. Let the fieldmen also remember that the man who is keeping wicket stands more chance of getting his hands bruised than all the rest of the field put together, so don't throw in hard unless there is good reason.
​I have stated that long-leg and long-stop are things of the past, so all that need be said about them is that, in the days when the demand for these fields existed, the supply was plentiful and excellent. Jack Smith, of Cambridgeshire, Daft, Bury, Daniel, and Game were all magnificent at long-leg, as also were Rowbotham, Mortlock, Jupp, and Herbert Marshall at that most thankless of all posts, longstop. To take another post, viz., point, every fielder there should be quick, able to catch with either hand, and not afraid of facing a real hot one. As the late Mr. Fitzgerald said, if you have no particular star to place at point, choose the fattest man, because nature often compels him to stop a hot one by depriving him of agility sufficient to enable him to get out of the way. The earliest hero in this place was R. T. King, of Cambridge University, whom the late Mr. John Walker, an excellent judge, thought the best he had ever seen. Carpenter, Tinley, V. E. Walker, E. M. Grace, and F. W. Wright were all firstrate here, as is Brown, of Yorkshire, at the ​present time. By universal consent, cover-point, mid-off, extra-cover, and third man are the three posts where ground fielding is all-important; they get catches, often very warm ones, but on these four men lies the responsibility of stopping, if possible, all the cuts and off-drives, the commonest and hardest of hits; and nobody who has seen Law, Royle, G. B. Studd, Hemingway, Briggs, and Strachan at one or other of these posts will ever forget any of them.
The fields at short-slip and extra short-slip should, on the other hand, be sure catches. They have no opportunity for ground fielding, like cover-point, but they get more catches than any other field except wicket-keep; and at the present day on hard wickets it seems hardly possible to get a good side out unless you have a sure hand in the slips. If anybody who has been accustomed to keeping wicket wants a variety, let him take short-slip. He will get a great deal of the fun and none of the bruises of wicket-keeping. But the catches may come low or ​high, either to the right hand or to the left, and most of them very quick. From this it is easy to see that a field, to really excel here, must have peculiar gifts coupled with the faculty of stooping with quickness; so youth, in this as in other departments, must have its day. Tunnicliffe, of Yorkshire, is a splendid short-slip; but the best I have ever seen was the renowned Lohmann, who has brought off more fine catches here than anybody else in the history of cricket.
Lastly, in these days of wickets so smooth and good that bowlers' hearts are getting broken, let my former axiom be remembered—that good fielding makes weak bowling strong, that the smooth ground which kills the bowlers makes fielding easier, and if you do not want to spend nearly all of your cricketing time in fielding out, practise catching in season and out of season, for if an eleven only hold catches, it would astonish you to see how few matches they lose.