FIELDING
By S. L. JESSOP
It has become almost an axiom of the game that more matches are lost by
bad fielding than through any superexcellence of batting or bowling,
and that this is really the case few will deny.
How many of those favoured mortals who participate in first-class
cricket can call to mind instances of brilliant batting, followed up
by capital bowling, all to be rendered null and void by the missing
of a “sitter” by some lazy fieldsman whose thoughts were anywhere but
on the game. Cricketers are but mortals, and catches will be missed
as long as the game of cricket is played, but less mistakes would be
made, especially in the slips, if fieldsmen would but pay the strictest
attention to the game, and not allow their thoughts to wander. That
chance that “Cain” gave to third slip, which might have turned defeat
into victory, would in all probability have been accepted, had the
culprit’s thoughts not been too much engrossed in the choice of
theatres that evening for his fiancée; and to such causes as these,
if one could but read the thoughts of those at fault, many of the too
frequent mistakes could be traced. Too much emphasis cannot be attached
to this lack of attention, for one can but judge from one’s own
experience.
That fielding, the most important branch of the game, has deteriorated
during even the past five or six years may be accepted as a true bill,
and we can only look for improvement to those who have the rising
generation under their charge. No one can expect to become a good
fieldsman without assiduous and often irksome practice, and this,
combined with the undue prominence bestowed on batting, may account
somewhat for the deterioration. A batsman, by scoring 50 runs, feels
that he may have had a material hand in the success of his side, and
in the same way so does a bowler who takes five or six wickets, for
they both have something tangible to show in the score-sheet. True, the
fieldsman may have helped the bowler by a brilliant catch or two, but
there is no record of the amount of runs he may have saved. Thus it is
that a little selfishness may crop up, for whereas the fieldsman may
feel that, like the spoke of a wheel, he is only part of a whole, the
batsman or bowler feels that he is an individual. Be the reason what it
may, there is no doubt that the practice of fielding is much neglected,
and as there is not that monotony in it that so frequently crops up
in batting achievements, it is difficult to understand the cause of
that neglect. When one considers that the best batsman in the world
is not absolutely certain of scoring a run, and that a good fieldsman
nearly always saves 20 or 30, the importance of fielding can at once be
appreciated.
From a spectacular point of view there is no more stirring sight than
to see eleven players, each of whom is striving his utmost to outdo
the other in his efforts to save runs, bringing off catches that an
ordinary field would not even attempt, and saving runs in a manner
which at times borders on the miraculous. It is such a sight as this
that saves cricket from becoming too monotonous. As has been mentioned
before, sufficient practice is not indulged in; players who take
great pains to improve their batting look upon fielding in the light
of a “something” that has to be put up with, and as such only to be
tolerated. Let these same players take half an hour’s practice every
day for a month, and they will find an improvement in their fielding
such as they would have hardly deemed possible. The only feasible way
of obtaining practice is for some one to hit the ball to you from all
sorts of distances, varying from 10 yards to 70, as this range will
include different kinds of chances, from “slip” catches to catches in
the long field. It is a good plan to use a light bat and hold it in the
same manner that one would grasp a racquet, as by doing so one is able
to impart a “cut” to the ball which closely resembles the spin that
would result from a mis-hit to “cover” or a “snick” in the “slips.”
Excepting at school, throwing at the wicket is seldom practised, which
is a great mistake, for many a run has been saved and many a wicket
taken by the accuracy of a smart return.
In classifying fieldsmen, one can roughly do so by saying that there
are two kinds, those that field near the wicket and those that field
in the out-field, and these latter are in the minority. In the same
manner, fielding may be dissolved into two parts, namely, ground
fielding and catching. Ground fielding has been brought to a state of
perfection for which the improvement in the modern cricket-grounds is
in a large manner responsible. To become a good ground fieldsman one
must be able to judge the pace of the ball to a nicety; otherwise,
although one may succeed in stopping it, one will fail to gather the
ball accurately, and consequently will not save the run. The fieldsman
who excels is the one who, gathering the ball accurately, returns it to
the keeper or bowler with one and the same action. The time saved by
this almost simultaneous action of stopping and returning the ball is
of immense value to fielders in the long field, not only in the saving
of singles, but also in the running out of unwary batsmen. When a ball
is travelling along the ground, the first duty of a fieldsman is if
possible to get in front of it, drawing the legs close together, so
that, should the ball through any irregularity in the turf bump over
the outstretched hands, it will be impeded by the fieldsman’s body. He
must be equally certain with right or left hand in stopping those hits
that he cannot get to with both hands, and there may be a time when it
is absolutely necessary to use his foot in order to save runs. This
method, useful and indispensable though it may be at times, is, one is
sorry to say, becoming a little too general. Whenever possible the hand
should always be used, and only as a desperate last chance should the
foot be resorted to.
On the perfect grounds that now abound, in nine cases out of ten the
chance of overtaking a ball that has been only moderately hit is very
small, but it is worth while to pursue, even with the odds so great
against one. And one should bear in mind that the quicker one starts in
that pursuit, the more likely is that boundary to be saved, especially
as to gauge the decrease in the pace of the ball is a most difficult
matter. Grounds too must be taken into consideration, for it does
not follow that a boundary which one might save at Birmingham would
be saved at Brighton. When you are attempting to save a boundary by
_pursuing_ the ball, never try to seize the ball too soon, for you are
only more likely to miss it altogether, and your chase to be rendered
futile. Even should you succeed in grasping the ball, your effort of
stooping down and diving forward so upsets your balance that to turn
round and return the ball without unnecessary loss of time is extremely
difficult. The method that should be adopted, and one that is more
likely to meet with success, is for the fieldsman to overtake the ball,
and when a little in front, or even level with it, to stretch the hand
out and allow it to roll into the hand.
No matter how accurate one may be in returning a ball, accuracy is
of little avail unless it be tempered with speed, for even though
occasionally a man may be given out when the wicket has been hit and
he has regained his ground, yet the fieldsman will find that it is the
exception and not the rule. Without speed of return the fieldsman, be
he ever so certain a catch or brilliant a ground field, will never
reach a high point of excellence; he will be useful, but not great.
Even this useful field is not so frequent as he should be.
Opportunities of running men out are often lost by the fieldsman
becoming flurried, and returning the ball in a haphazard manner to
whichever end he happens to be near. This is a most fatal mistake,
and one that has been the cause of allowing many a batsman to proceed
on his way safely when the reverse should have been the case. When
an opportunity of running out a man does occur—and these, from the
fieldsman’s point of view, are too few and far between—the fieldsman
should determine as to which end he is to return the ball before
it reaches him. He will then have more time to make certain of the
accuracy of his aim. Should he be fielding near the wicket, he should
return to the wicket-keeper at the height of the latter’s chest; if
from the long field, on the first bounce, but always at the utmost
speed. A time may come when it is imperative to aim at the stumps, for
the time occupied in the keeper breaking the wickets may just suffice
to give the batsman the benefit of the doubt in a close race; but as
a general rule it is one’s duty to rely on the keeper. The bowler at
times has to fulfil the duties of a wicket-keeper in receiving the
return balls, and as he does not possess the protection of gloves, one
has to consider the question of damaging his fingers. With a bowler who
is wont to flinch at a fast return, it is wiser in the end to leave the
wicket entirely to the accuracy of the thrower and the nimbleness of
the backer-up. Many “run outs” may accrue in this manner which might
not have come to pass if too much reliance had been placed on the
bowler. Preventing runs is made much easier by the faculty of being
able to anticipate the direction of the batsman’s stroke before he has
actually played the ball, and this capacity is only acquired by most
careful attention and experience. By being on one’s toes, somewhat in
the same manner as one would start for a race, it becomes much easier
to cut off a ball than if one’s foot is placed flat on the ground. The
adoption of this attitude not only saves actual runs, but it has the
further advantage of preventing batsmen from attempting those short
runs which so often have the effect of demoralising a weak fielding
side. Difficult as it is at times to judge to which end the ball will
be returned, especially when a fieldsman feints to throw in at one end
and then suddenly returns it to the other, some one should always be
backing up both the wicket-keeper and bowler. Nothing is more annoying
to the bowler than to see a sharp-run single converted into a two or
even more by the lack of adequate backing-up. It is those who are
fielding near the wicket who should be responsible for the prevention
of overthrows, especially the man in that place to which it is usual to
relegate a weak fieldsman, mid-on.
There is no hard-and-fast rule for the proper position to hold the
hands when about to receive a catch. The hand should be so held as
to form a cup, with the fingers extended, and the moment the ball is
inside, the hand should be allowed to give, in order to minimise the
impact. For catches in the long field one should thrust the hands up
as high as one can, so that, if the ball should be fumbled, a chance
may be left of securing it on a second attempt. One-handed catches
must be made at times, even in the long field, but whenever possible
two hands should be used. Confidence is a great factor of success at
cricket, but even that quality may be overdone, especially in catching.
To make a comparatively easy catch look difficult, in order to extort
applause from the crowd, is a most unsportsmanlike act, jeopardising
as it does the success of a side in order to gain a few moments of
self-glorification. Fortunate is the side which does not possess one
of these mountebanks. Catches should be looked upon as timely gifts of
Providence, and as such not to be lightly treated, for in these days of
concrete-like wickets chances occur all too infrequently.
[Illustration: _THE CRICKET FIELD AT RUGBY._]
[Illustration:
_From a Painting by_ _W. J. Bowden._
_A MATCH IN THE EIGHTIES._]
In no branch of the game is the improvement so marked as it is in
wicket-keeping, and for this improvement present-day cricketers have
to thank that prince of wicket-keepers, the Australian, Blackham.
Before he made his appearance in England, long-stops were looked upon
as quite as indispensable to a side as the wicket-keeper himself,
but on his arrival in 1878 the fallacy of that theory was quickly
demonstrated. Wickets in those days were not quite the perfect wickets
of to-day, and with Spofforth bowling his fastest and best, the manner
in which Blackham stood close up to the wicket, and without the aid of
a long-stop, was looked upon as something approaching the marvellous.
Magnificent keepers as we have had, since he revolutionised the art of
wicket-keeping, he is still without an equal.
No one, unless he possesses a natural aptitude for the position, is
likely to achieve any considerable success, though it is a mistake
to suppose that a wicket-keeper, like the poet, is born, not made.
Much can be done by practice, and by studying the methods of the many
brilliant keepers that abound to-day. Excepting the captain of the
side, no man is more open to criticism than the wicket-keeper, and in
nine cases out of ten this criticism tends in the direction of abuse.
By those who have been unfortunate enough to have been persuaded to
don the gloves, the difficulties of the position are duly appreciated,
but unless one has done so, one is hardly able to judge the great
assistance that a good keeper can render a bowler. Besides his duties
of stumping, running out, and catching, he is often able to inform
the bowler as to the weak spots in a batsman’s play, for from his very
position he can more easily detect them. In the case of a good bowler
and an equally competent stumper, it is a combination of two heads
against one, the most valuable combination that a side can possess. The
confidence that a good keeper inspires in a bowler is only equalled
by the confidence that one would naturally possess in using one’s own
billiard-cue. An incompetent wicket-keeper will make a good bowler
powerless, whilst a good keeper considerably strengthens a weak bowling
side. A wicket-keeper without a good nerve may be likened to a ship
without a rudder, for each is practically helpless. The slightest sign
of flinching would result in an appalling amount of byes and missed
opportunities. Very rarely indeed is a match concluded without the
wicket-keeper having played an important part in either the winning
or the losing of it. He should never lose sight of the ball from the
moment it is out of the bowler’s hand to the moment it reaches him,
and above all, he should never snap at the ball. He stands up in a
stooping posture, with his hands close enough to the bails to allow
him to remove them in almost the same action as receiving the ball.
Until the ball has been struck or has passed the bat, he should remain
stationary, for it is much easier to accurately judge the ball thus
than when on the move. Necessity compels him at times to jump to this
or that side, but this should be done before the ball reaches him, in
order to allow the body to be again stationary when his hands receive
the ball. In order to run the least chance of injury to the hands,
especially to the top joints of the fingers, the hands should be held
at a downward angle, and allowed to “give” with the impact of the
ball. This “give” should be very slight to slow or medium bowling,
as the drawing back of the hands after taking a ball, even though
occupying the slightest fraction of a second, often results in a
missed opportunity of stumping. Wicket-keepers who are in the habit of
allowing their hands to “give” considerably are, on account of their
hands being farther back, invariably better catchers than stumpers.
This is especially applicable to Board, the Gloucestershire keeper.
He brings off some most wonderful catches, but from this very habit
of drawing the hands back too far, he is often unable to outpace the
batsman when a question of stumping arises. Considering how completely
a batsman, especially a left-hander, often obscures the sight of the
ball from the keeper’s view, it is a distinct credit to his skill
that he is able to perform his duties so ably. How many times has the
explanation of a dropped catch by cover or mid-off been put down to
want of a proper sight of the ball; but one rarely hears that excuse
from the stumper, and yet he, above any of the other fields, has
a right to use it. To a very fast bowler even the most proficient
of wicket-keepers should stand back, for he is more likely to make
catches there than if he stood up. Stumping off fast bowling is of rare
occurrence, not on account of the pace of the bowling, but because in
playing it a batsman rarely leaves his crease, and consequently the
keeper gets few opportunities. The latter’s most difficult duty is the
taking of balls on the leg side. He rarely gets a clear sight of these,
and consequently has to rely more or less on guess-work, especially
to bowling above medium pace. The South African, Halliwell, was quite
as much at home in keeping on the leg side as he was on the off, and
frequently used to stump batsmen whilst attempting to glance fast
bowling to leg. Thankless as the post of wicket-keeping is at times,
yet from the frequency of his opportunities the wicket-keeper must
often gain some solace.
Because a fieldsman is a good out-field, it does not follow that he
will be equally successful in any position nearer the wicket, so that,
though it may be an excellent plan for a fieldsman to become acquainted
with other positions in the field, yet, as “use is second habit,” it
may be wiser for him to make a specialty of that position in which he
has become accustomed to field. On account of the comparatively little
movement that it requires, “point” is a much sought after position by
those players who, either from stress of age or laziness, do not wish
to indulge in much running or throwing. Such is really not the use
for which this position was intended, for, from the very fact of its
being so adjacent to the wicket, it requires extreme attention and
activity. “Point” should never be farther away from the wicket than 12
yards, either to slow bowling or fast, and he should always be ready to
take the place of the stumper whenever the latter, either because of
the bad return or on account of his zeal in running after a “snick,”
leaves his post. Many “points” stand too far out, so much so that they
encroach on the duties of “cover.” If a “point” stands some 16 or 17
yards away from the wicket, the “cover” must of necessity stand much
deeper, and by doing so he can rarely stop two determined batsmen from
stealing many short runs during the course of a long partnership. No
finer “points” than Noble, and Wright of Derbyshire, who stand rarely
more than 10 yards from the bat, could be found, and the number of
catches that they have brought off because of their propinquity to the
wicket more than counterbalances the number of runs that they might
have saved by standing back.
There is no position in the field that gives so many opportunities
for a fine field to shine as does that of “cover-point.” It is a most
trying position for any one who may not be in the best of condition,
as he has to be continually on the move, for he it is that is held
responsible for the prevention of short runs, quite the most arduous
part of his many duties. As he has a large area of ground to look
after, he must be very exact in keeping in his right place, as even a
yard may mean all the difference between taking or missing a chance,
especially as the ball sometimes travels at great speed in his
direction. The difficulty of the position lies in the amount of “spin”
that is often imparted to the ball, not only when on the ground, but
also when in the air. Catches which often appear to be going to one’s
right hand have suddenly to be attempted with the left, on account of
the curve, and this curve being of a very sudden nature, these catches
are extremely hard to judge. This curve is most pronounced when a slow
left-hand or a leg-break bowler is bowling. One often sees apparently
easy catches from mis-hits dropped at “cover” in a most unaccountable
fashion, but in reality these simple “dolly” catches are much more
difficult to hold than those from hard drives. An incredible amount of
“spin” is put on a mis-hit ball, so that, unless the catch is received
well into the middle of the hand, the spinning ball will act in much
the same fashion as does a billiard-ball when “check side” is imparted
to it. When assisted by an extra mid-off, “cover” should place himself
much squarer with the wickets, as he will have a much less area of
ground to guard, and he must be just deep enough to be able to save
singles. He should be able to return the ball from below the shoulder
with a fast wristy action, full pitch to the wickets. The introduction
of extra mid-off has somewhat lessened “cover’s” duties, so much so
that often a brilliant field has very little to do in that position,
this being especially the case with slow bowling. Naturally, strokes
off slow bowling are made more in front than behind or square, so that
to this class of bowling the extra mid-off is indispensable. To see
Gregory fielding at “cover” is an object-lesson to those fielders who
may have fallen into the disastrous habit of allowing the ball to come
to them, instead of dashing in to meet it. There are many admirable
cover-points, but for many years the Australian has been quite in a
class by himself in that position.[1]
The duties of “third man” are of the same description as those of
“cover,” for the position calls for equal activity and dash. Short
runs are invariably attempted if the “third man” is at all likely to
be flurried, so that the fieldsman selected for the position must
essentially be cool and collected. The pace of the wicket and the
bowling should determine the exact position in which he should stand,
and he should cultivate a stooping attitude, as the balls come to him
as a rule very low. He will not get many catches, but when he does, it
is extremely likely that they will be very difficult, on account of
the “cut” that the ball will possess from being hit in that direction.
When a short run is attempted, it is better to return the ball to the
bowler, as the batsman who is backing up has less ground to cover than
the striker. Any ball that goes to the left hand of “point” he has to
attend to, and he must also back up the wicket-keeper when the ball is
returned from the on side. One of the long fields is generally deputed
to fill the position, often solely in order to save him from having
to walk too far in order to fill some other position. Naturally it is
a wise precaution to avoid tiring your fieldsmen, but unless the long
field shows a marked aptitude for the position, he should not be placed
there. Third men that one cannot occasionally steal runs from are very
rare, but he would be a daring runner who would attempt to do so when
such brilliant men as Trumper, Sewell, or Burnup are fielding in that
position.
If one could trace the position of the field in which most catches are
missed, “the slips,” it would be safe to say, would pan out as the
chief offenders. Excepting the wicket-keeper’s, theirs are the most
important places, and require quick-sighted fieldsmen who are certain
catches. Attention is the most important quality, combined with the
faculty of being able to judge the flight of the ball from the bat.
One must adopt a stooping attitude, in order to reach low catches, and
also because it enables one to spring in any direction with more ease
than if one stands upright. Though two hands, as in other positions in
the field, should be used whenever possible, yet one must be certain
with either hand, as the majority of catches are brought off with one
hand. Two common faults are pretty general, namely, snapping at the
ball instead of letting it come into the hand, and standing in the
wrong place. The distance at which the slips should stand varies very
much in accordance with the state of the pitch and the nature of the
bowling. They would naturally be farther back to fast bowling than to
slow. It is a moot point as to whether a slip should be stationary
or occasionally on the move, in order to anticipate a stroke. An
experienced slip has his own method, and he is wise to stick to it
if he finds it meets with success, even though it be a method not
altogether orthodox. Of present-day slips individually, R. E. Foster,
A. O. Jones, Tunnicliffe, J. R. Mason, and Braund stand out very
prominently, but collectively the combination of Braund, Maclaren, and
Jones is all that one could desire.
An easy position, but one that requires considerable nerve and
activity, is “mid-off.” As a rule the ball comes straight to the
fielder and at great pace, but usually with very little twist on,
though occasionally, when a left-hander is bowling, the ball swerves
a good deal. The most difficult catches that he has to deal with are
those that rise from the very moment that the ball touches the bat,
and unless he judges the ball very accurately, he will find that the
tips of his fingers will suffer very considerably, and that success
will not attend his efforts. “Mid-off” should be in such a position
as to be able to back up the bowler when the batsman returns the ball
hard, and also to save short runs. Like “cover” and “third man,” he
should be always ready to start, as he often gets chances of a run-out.
The amount of runs that the Australian Jones and Hirst save in that
position, and the catches that they bring off, are phenomenal.
In all the course of my experience I have never yet seen a really
first-class “mid-on.” It may be that I have been peculiarly unfortunate
in that respect. It is an easy position to field in, because the ball
is not often hit in that direction, and when it is, there is no twist,
although there may be a good deal of pace on it. On account of the
easiness of the position, the weak fieldsmen are deposited there. When
a “short leg” is utilised, “mid-on’s” duties are a perfect sinecure,
but on fast wickets, when the short leg’s services are dispensed with,
he has a considerable amount of work to get through. He is often the
only man fielding on the on side of the wicket, and accordingly he has
to run for any ball that may be played on that side. He must be ready
to back up both the wicket-keeper and the bowler, so that a great many
runs can be saved by a smart field in this position.
On a bad wicket and with an off-break bowler the position of short
leg is indispensable, as under these conditions many balls, though
intended to be played straight, hit the edge of the bat and, on account
of the break, proceed in his direction. Though weak fielders are also
relegated to this position, it is a difficult post to fill adequately,
as the ball comes often very quick and low, with a good deal of spin
on. His position varies a good deal according to the style of the
batsman, but he should not be too deep. As a general rule, he should
be about 10 or 11 yards from the batsman. As so much leg-break bowling
is now in vogue, he often gets bombarded in a dangerous manner. When a
bowler of this kind is performing, it is just as well to place one of
the best fieldsmen in that position.
Fielding in the “long field” requires more nerve and judgment than
does fielding near the wicket. The ball is much longer in the air and
on the ground, and it is on account of this fact that nerve plays
such an important part. The ball is so long in coming to the fieldsman
that he has time to conceive all manner of things that may happen,
and it is for this reason that the knowledge of the temperaments of
those playing under him is so useful to the captain. A fieldsman who
is nervous in the long field need not necessarily be classed as a bad
field, for cases have come under my own observation of the wonderful
change that has been wrought in a “nervy” field when fielding close to
the wickets. Generally speaking, there are two positions in the long
field, “long on” and “long off,” but now that the fashionable method of
bowling wide of the leg stump has somewhat superseded the “off theory,”
the old position of “long leg” has lately been made more use of. In all
three positions the duties are similar, and they require a safe pair
of hands, speed in running, and great accuracy in returning the ball.
Everything in the nature of a chance must be attempted, even at the
risk of not saving a boundary, for often catches are made that at times
look impossible. “Long field” must return the ball the moment that it
is in his hands, and should never wait for the ball to come to him, but
should dash in the moment it is struck. Few “out-fields” can throw a
distance of 70 or 80 yards without going through some such preliminary
as moving the arms round and round in order to gain sufficient momentum
to aid them in propelling the ball, and even running 2 or 3 yards
before returning it. This waste of time is simply a sign of lack of
practice, and can easily be remedied by sufficient attention paid to
it.
The importance of good fielding cannot be too greatly emphasised, for
without it a good bowling side is rendered ineffectual and powerless
to win matches, excepting on bad wickets. Unless a batsman or a
bowler should possess great proficiency, he should not be included
in a first-class match if he cannot attain to an average standard
of fielding; _i.e._ he should be able to throw, not jerk, and catch
reasonable catches. The time comes when a fieldsman, through advancing
years, may not be so speedy in the field as he was wont to be in
his younger days, though his powers as a batsman may be scarcely
diminished. Provided he is still able to hold catches, in positions
that require little or no running about, he may still be a powerful
factor of success to his side. But for young fieldsmen who either from
sheer laziness or inability cannot either hold catches or save runs,
one cannot but have a feeling of disgust, and it is such players as
these that are out of place in first-class cricket.
[Illustration: _KENT_ v. _SUSSEX, AT BRIGHTON._
_A supposed Match played between 1839-41._]
[Illustration]