The Cricket Field: Or, the History and Science of the Game of CricketPycroft, James
History
The Cricket Field: Or, the History and Science of the Game of Cricket
Pycroft, James
Cricket
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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