FIELDING AND THROWING-IN.
The future of Cricket lies less perhaps with reform of the game itself
than with more adequate preparation for play, so that each part of each
department of it may be better done--done with more skill, more
enjoyment, more profit. And of all departments fielding needs most care
and favour. It must become so good and so interesting as to be a pride
and a pleasure, instead of--as it now is--a dulness and a drudgery.
The first requisite will be to realise that fielding is complex. Whereas
Cricket is often called a trinity of games, of which one member is
fielding, fielding itself, though regarded as a single occupation,
involves a multitude of arts and too often a multitude of sins. Quite
apart from the different qualities demanded for different places in the
field, all fielders alike should possess certain characteristics in
common. In this chapter we shall speak of fielding in general, referring
the reader to the books by Ranjitsinhji and others for special and
exceptional information about special places. Thus short slip may have
to be ready not to move his feet but merely to shift his weight, whereas
cover must be ready to do both.
A few minutes’ study of the photographs of Hirst and Shrewsbury, and of
an actual or imaginary game, will show that as a rule many virtues are
needful. Ranjitsinhji gives the following nine Commandments:--
“There are certain rules which apply to all fieldsmen, viz.:--
1. Keep the legs together when the ball is hit straight to you and while
you are picking it up.
2. Always back up the man who is receiving the ball at the wicket, when
it is thrown in, but not too close.
3. Always try for a catch, however impossible it may seem.
4. Always be on the look-out and ready to start.
5. Run at top speed, but not rashly, the moment the ball is hit.
6. Use both hands whenever possible.
7. Do not get nervous if you make a mistake.
8. Obey your captain cheerfully and promptly.
9. Never be slack about taking up the exact position assigned to you;
never move about in an aimless, fidgetty manner.”
These Commandments apply to the whole side, since, as has been well
said, “In a true sense, the strength of a fielding side must be measured
by its weakest member, as that of a chain is measured by its weakest
link. Then, again, when there is a really bad fielder on a side, more
balls seem to go to him than to any one else. Put him where you will, he
seems to attract the ball.”
Let the reader fancy himself fielding at cover. What must be his habits?
He must be ready to back up the wicket-keeper.
He must be ready to start at once in any direction either with his legs
or with his arm or with both.
He must time the ball; he must also anticipate, his foreknowledge being
based on instinct, observation, and memory.
He may have to run and to run hard.
He may have to move his hands, or one of them, rapidly and accurately
towards the ball’s line of flight; this may involve a bending of trunk,
and an extension of limbs for stooping and stretching.
He must preserve or immediately recover balance.
He must be able to draw back his hands, or one of them, the instant that
the ball has touched them or it. This yielding movement must be timed to
a nicety.
He must grasp the ball either as a catch or as a ball to be thrown in.
In the latter case he must decide to which end, at what pace, etc., he
will throw it in.
He must then throw it in accurately. This last rule of fielding alone
postulates a special and difficult art.
* * * * *
Having found out what is to be practised, the would-be fielder must
realise that the practice as well as the fielding itself are abundantly
worth while. “That side would have been out for a third of the score if
one or two of us in our palmy days had been in the field,” remarked a
veteran spectator at a big match. This was quite true--catches were
missed, and they were costly enough. Ranjitsinhji says, “As to the
importance of good fielding, it is easy to prove it. Each catch that is
missed simply adds another batsman to the opposite side. If five catches
are dropped, the side that drops them has to all intents and purposes
fifteen men to dispose of instead of ten.” Besides the chances, there
were the balls not anticipated, not stopped, not thrown in smartly, not
thrown in accurately. The so-called “safe” fielders often lost a run by
their safe waiting. “Patient waiting no loss” is a bad rule. Mr. Edward
Lyttelton laments this inferiority. What a contrast to Mr. V. K. Royle,
whose _habit_ was to stand like a man ready to sprint in any direction,
even before the ball had been hit. Such a man either ran the batsman out
or else saved run after run by sheer terrorism; he did not slack off
merely because he thought the ball might possibly not come near him. He
seemed to be convinced that it certainly would come not necessarily _to_
him but for him to field. He was the ideal. And W. G. tells us of
another: “My brother Fred and Jupp used to go after everything and try
for every catch, _as if the match depended on their individual efforts_;
and the extraordinary results which followed surprised others as well
as themselves. There is no finer sight in the cricket field than a
brilliant fieldsman doing his utmost; and every feat that he performs
meets with quick and hearty recognition by the spectators.” Such
examples and words make one feel that keenness and skill and success
_are_ worth while. The alertness and rapidity with accuracy are
qualities for character and for life as well as for cricket.
After the complexity of fielding and its importance have been realised,
the next thing is to improve fielding. Why has it not been cultivated as
a piece of land that may become fruitful? Partly perhaps because the
fielder is not mentioned on the scoring-sheet (except for the catches,
which go chiefly to the bowler’s credit); partly because the long-sided
practice-nets render most fielding unnecessary; partly because fielders
are not keen, and that means because they do not field scientifically.
Fielding is regarded as a subsidiary and slavish drudgery, not as an
important and fine art. And now for a few possible remedies of a general
character, to be supplemented by others and by special training for
special places in the field.
Every fielder should practise all-round fielding, while he makes one
particular place (or two) his speciality: the choice of this place
should depend on the mental as well as the physical qualities--on smart
readiness, power of extension, and so forth.
He should study the commonest hits to his place, learning the curves and
breaks which the ball will most frequently show.
He _must_ be alert. Let me here quote Mr. Edward Lyttelton’s excellent
remarks:--“Unless strong measures are taken, the school-fieldsmen will
stand on their heels, while the ball is being hit; and this is generally
the cause of that heart-sickening want of life--that imperturbable
middle-aged decorum which is so often to be noticed among boy-cricketers
of seventeen, eighteen, nineteen years of age, and is enough, when seen,
to make old cricketers weep. But not to stand on the heels requires
effort and stimulus; and it is astonishing how often you may make the
effort and reap no reward; the ball doesn’t come. But when it does, what
a change! The leap, the determination that the batsman shall not score,
the racing after the ball, are all part of the same dash which must
begin from the toes, not from the heel. Now some of these early
principles can be taught to a boy by taking him singly, and throwing or
hitting the ball, not too hard, either at him or to one side just within
his utmost reach; and, by constant encouragement and exhortation, the
trainer may induce him again and again to do violence to his propriety,
in the first place, and then to stretch his sinews and curve his
backbone till he finds himself capable of a brilliancy which he never
before suspected. The exercise is terrific, and ten minutes _per diem_
are amply sufficient. It is best to take only one at a time. No one can
guess the improvement that is sure to ensue if this régime is faithfully
observed.... A deep field is standing with his whole body ready to jump
in any direction that may be required. There comes a catch, but it is
very doubtful if he can get to it; only because he was ready to start he
does so, and perhaps the best bat on the side walks home; or, owing to
the same fact, he again and again saves a ball from going to the
boundary. Now, if this is the case with a deep field, how much more with
cover-point and other ‘save one’ fields!”
He must notice and practice several waiting-positions, taking good
fielders as his models. Whichever he decides to use, he must not stand
on his heels. Fielders refuse to learn the art of readiness; so does our
nation in its daily life. It is the prompt readiness not to go in one
direction only, but to go in _any_ direction, perhaps backwards, without
loss of poise and self-control--for the hands must be prepared to be
extended anywhere, and at the end of the extension to grasp securely. So
far from such an alertness being a common sight, an inalienable
possession of most players, it is as rare as open-mindedness. There is
only one thing rarer in fielding, and this is the custom of anticipating
strokes, though heaven knows that similar strokes have been repeated
often enough to be observed and remembered! But “education” does not
encourage observation.
In addition to the readiness to get at the ball, there must be the
readiness to back up.
The fielder must follow each ball. If he finds this dull, let him
pretend that he is the fielder to whom the ball has been sent; let him
field it in his imagination.
In a bedroom or elsewhere he may practice stoopings and extensions (as
in Photograph XXVIII. of Hirst), a yielding of the hands and a rapidly
closed grip at the end of the extensions. All the common attitudes and
movements for stopping and receiving balls may be acquired outside the
field. The muscles must be familiarised with their future work; for, as
Mr. Lyttelton says, “If every field picked up and threw in as quickly as
his knee joints and the state of his arm allowed him, a very
considerable percentage of the runs usually scored would be saved.”
Catching may be learnt with a soft ball against a wall or in games of
catch. The hands should be held not too far apart nor too far from the
body. Both hands should be used, if possible. The difficulty is to judge
the flight, to time the instant to draw back just enough--for “he must
learn to let the ball come into his hands as into an Aunt Sally’s mouth.
It is entirely wrong to grab or snap at it”--and then to hold tight.
There are brought into play the senses of sight, of hearing--different
sounds accompany different hits, and in Racquets I get much help from
what my ear tells me--and of touch, as well as of other faculties.
As practice for stopping balls, wicket-keeping
[Illustration: XXVIII.--Fielding a low ball with one hand: the opposite
leg is fully extended.
[_To face page 112._]
]
is good except for the feet. It teaches one to bend quickly, to extend
quickly; it cultivates pluck and patience and observation, since the
wicket-keeper must stand firm and wait and watch each ball if he hopes
not to be hurt.
Every cricketer--I would go so far as to say every ordinary human
being--should learn and practise throwing-in. Dr. Grace says that the
player “should practise picking-up and throwing-in underhand.” At first
this should be acquired as a separate accomplishment, till it can be
incorporated and nearly ingrafted into the action of fielding, so that
the whole process may become, as it were, a single movement started
half-unconsciously by the sight of a batsman preparing to strike. The
right action for throwing will be dealt with directly.
Interesting matches will do much to improve the keenness about fielding
and therefore the care given to it. It is mainly because the American
School and University baseball matches _are_ so interesting, so
absorbing, that good fielding is so sedulously sought after. We might
arouse and sustain interest by variety; personally I should like to see
handicap-matches occasionally introduced. A few kinds are suggested in
another chapter. Tip-and-run is excellent training for the batsman as
well for the fielders and wicket-keeper.
Subsidiary games and exercises are also essential. In these, as in
matches, there should either be prizes or--as Mr. Edward Lyttelton
advises--“the players should be encouraged to compete for colours to
wear, which need consist of nothing further than a cap of well-marked
hue. There is no reason to underrate the power of this enticement. Human
beings have ever been addicted to ornament, and some have thought that
great wars have been fought for very little else than the difference
between one colour and another. It is quite certain that the
authorization of caps for proficiency in cricket does wonders; and it is
a stimulus quite innocent enough to be worth trying.” The same writer
goes on to suggest that “it ought to be possible to devise a means of a
social practice of fielding, which without involving the waste of time
of ordinary match fielding, would ensure to each individual something to
do, and some stimulus to do it.”
We might with advantage study American
[Illustration: XXIX.--Fielding, second position: the hand drawn back
behind the ear somewhat further back than most American Baseball
fielders prefer.
[_To face page 114._
]
methods of practice, not with a view to slavish copying, but with a view
to adapted borrowing. Mr. Walter Camp thus describes the method and
apparatus for improving the accuracy of height and of direction; after
remarking that “every one has what may be called a natural way of
throwing the ball, but this so-called natural ‘way’ usually means a
perverted method acquired through carelessness, or attempts to throw too
hard before the arm is sufficiently accustomed to the work,” he points
out such faults as to return the ball before the recovery of balance. He
then goes on thus: “To get an idea of the first steps towards the
acquisition of this method, let the player take the ball in his hand,
and, bringing it back level with his ear, planting both feet firmly,
attempt to throw the ball without using the legs or body. At first the
throw is awkward and feeble, but constant practice speedily results in
moderate speed and peculiar accuracy. After steady practice at this
until quite a pace is acquired, the man may be allowed to use his legs
and body to increase the speed, still, however, sticking to the
straight-forward motion of the hand, wrist, and the arm.... There is no
delay caused by drawing back the arm past the head or by turning the
body around, which loses so much valuable time. Its accuracy is due to
the fact that it is easier to aim at an object with a hand in front of
the eyes than when it is out (to the side) beyond the shoulder. One can
easily ascertain this by comparing the ease of pointing the index finger
at any object when the hand is in front of the face, with the difficulty
of doing so when the arm is extended out sideways from the body. Still
further, in the almost round-arm throwing, which many players use, the
hand describes an arc, and the ball must be let go at the proper point
to go true. If let go at any other point in the swing, the throw is
certain to be wild.... The majority of the best throwers in the country
use principally the fore-finger and middle finger in giving direction to
the ball.” Mr. Camp then describes the system of hitting to a number of
fielders--this is to be found in some English Schools, but in America
the practisers take it in turn to hit to the others, “the batter being
able to knock high flies, line hits, long flies, and occasionally a
sharp hot grounder; a good man, while avoiding running the men to death,
will
[Illustration: XXX.--Waiting for a catch: elbows ready to draw back
slightly the moment the ball touches the hands.
[_Between pages 116 and 117._
]
[Illustration: XXXI.--A one-handed catch: body bent slightly back from
the hips.
[_Between pages 116 and 117._
]
occasionally give each man an opportunity to make a brilliant catch.
Nothing encourages and improves the candidates so much as keeping their
ambition thoroughly aroused during the entire time of practice.”
“Exercise that toughens the hands--such as swinging on the flying-rings,
or rope-climbing--is found to be useful.” “The work with the boxing
gloves is designed to improve the man’s general muscular development,
make him quick and firm upon his feet, and rapid in judgment and
action.” “On the running-track, the men take a few turns to limber up,
and then practise quick starting, and short, sharp spurts at full speed,
rather than the more leisurely, long-continued run of the men who are
training for boating honours.” “The sliding-spool is an admirable device
for cultivating the muscles used in throwing. (The spool is a piece of
wood, like a large reel of cotton, moving upon a rope tied, e.g., to a
beam in a room, and to some other object. It can be set at any angle.)
The point at which the spool would come in contact with the ceiling
should be well padded with some rather inelastic substance, in order
that the spool may not rebound too severely. By throwing the spool
along the rope a number of times daily, a man can acquire a powerful
throw.”
From the above quotations it will be obvious that we have many lessons
to learn and adapt for ourselves from America, even while we need not
agree with all that is maintained here. Thus the action of the throw may
be better for certain individuals, certain places in the field, certain
balls to be fielded, when the hand is kept at about the level of the
shoulder (see the photograph of Hirst), or below that level. Murdoch,
for instance, says, “When throwing, get into the way of never allowing
your arm to get above the level of your shoulder: it must be a quick,
wristy throw, and, with a little practice, you will get very accurate.”
The captain should set a good example; he should also look out for keen
fielders or keen practisers of fielding and try to turn these into
respectable batsmen or bowlers, instead of starting with the latter and
neglecting their fielding qualifications.
Among the best exercises for fielding is Fives. It trains the left hand
and side, as well as the stooping-capacity. Boxing is another help,
especially quick-foot boxing (which my friend Mr. F. V. Hornby has
[Illustration: XXXII.--Fielding a ground ball; no interval left for the
ball to get through; body well down to the work.
[_Between pages 118 and 119._
]
[Illustration: XXXIII.--A waiting position at point, where there is less
foot-work than at most places. It is easier to rise quickly than to
stoop quickly.
[_Between pages 118 and 119._
]
[Illustration: XXXIV.--Preparing to throw in with the high action.
[_Between pages 118 and 119._
]
described as “buzzing around”) rather than the stiff-legged methodical
slow kind. Boxing is fine for the “eye”--that is, for the co-operation
of eye, foot, body, arm, etc. Diving is good for the wind; swimming for
this and other purposes.