In its simplest form we played it in the garden after dinner, but even here environment and our imaginations combined to make it complicated. The lawn was small, and there were flower-beds and windows to be considered. The former did not trouble us very much; indeed, we lopped the French lilies with a certain glee, but a broken window was a more serious business, and lofty drives to the off were therefore discouraged. Yet once, I recollect7, the ball was sent through the same window three times in an afternoon. Of course, the unfortunate batsman who allowed his enthusiasm thus to outdrive his discretion8 was out, as also was he who hit the ball into the next garden. But this latter rule was rather conventional than imposed by necessity, for we were fortunate in the possession of a charming neighbour; and sometimes youth, p. 114adventuring in search of cricket-balls, would be regaled with seed-cake and still lemonade, and return rampant9 to his comrades. But the great zest10 of our games lay in our impersonation of real famous cricketers. We would take two county sides, and divide the r?les of their members amongst us, so that each of us would represent two or three members of each team. The score-sheets of these matches would convey a strange impression to the erudition of the New Zealander. For the greatest cricketers failed to score frequently, and, indeed, inevitably11 if they happened to be left-handed bats. So far our passion for accuracy carried us, but, like Tom Sawyer, we had to “lay on” that we bowled left-handed when it was in the part, while realistic impersonations of lightning bowlers12 were too dangerous to the batsman to be permitted.
These great contests did not pass without minor13 disagreements. The rights of age were by no means waived14, and in those days I was firmly convinced that the l.b.w. rule had been invented by the M.C.C. to assist elder brothers in getting their rights. Moreover, p. 115there was always high argument over the allocation of the parts of the more popular cricketers. My sister, I remember, would retire wrathfully from the game if she were not allowed to be K. J. Key, and so, when Surrey was playing, we had to permit her to be titular15 captain. Girls are very keen at cricket, but they are not good at it. Or perhaps in the course of the game “W. G.” would find it necessary to chase Lockwood all over the field for bowling16 impudently17 well. Yet while we mimicked18 our elders we secretly thought Olympian cricket a poor, unimaginative game without any quarrels. It was thrilling to bat for the honour of Mr. Fry, or to make a fine catch in the long field for Mr. Mason’s sake, but our personal idiosyncrasies also had their value.
When we went away for our holidays it was ours to adventure with bat and ball on unaccustomed grounds: meadow cricket was tiresome19, for the ball would hide itself in the long grass; and seaside cricket, though exhilarating, was too public a business to be taken really seriously. But cricket in the pinewoods was delightful—almost, I p. 116think, the best cricket of all. The soft needles made an admirable pitch, and we had all the trees for fielders. If you hit the ball against a tree full-pitch, you were out, and it was strange how those patient, silent fieldsmen, who never dropped catches, seemed to arrange themselves, as the game progressed, in the conventional places in the field. Point would be there, and mid-off, and some safe men in the slips. Overhead the birds would call in the trees, and there were queer echoes when you hit the ball hard, as though Pan were watching from some dim pavilion and crying his applause. Really I wonder how we dared, or perhaps it were fitter to wonder why we dare no longer.
The oddest cricket I ever played was with a gardener, a reticent20, impassive man, who came and played with me when sudden mumps21 had exiled me from my holiday-making comrades. He would bowl to me silently for hours, only parting his lips now and again to murmur22 the name of the stump23 which he proposed to hit with his next ball, and no efforts of mine could prevent his grim prophecies from being fulfilled. When I gave p. 117him his innings he would pat my widest and most wily balls back to me politely until he thought I was tired, and then he would let me bowl him. This unequal contest was not cricket as I knew it, but it fascinated me nevertheless. At night in my bed I would hit his bowling all over the world and upset his stumps24 with monotonous25 ease. By day I could only serve his humour. The devil was in the man.
The bats with which we played were normal save in size, but the balls varied26. In times of prosperity we had real leather cricket-balls, but the balls known as “compos” were more common. When new they had a noble appearance, but use made them rough and like dry earth in the hand, and then they were apt to sting the fingers of the unwary cricketer. The most perilous27 kind of ball of all was the size of a cricket-ball, but made of solid rubber, and deadly alike to batsman and fieldsman. For some reason or other the proper place in which to carry a cricket-ball was the trousers, or rather knickerbockers, pocket. The curious discomfort28 of this practice lingers in the p. 118mind. Soft balls are of no use in real cricket; but if you bore a hole in them and fill them with water they make very good bombs for practical anarchists29.
Later came school cricket, but it is significant that the impression that lingers is of the long drives home in the dusk from out-matches rather than of the cricket itself. We would walk up the hills to rest the horses, playing “touch” and imprisoning30 unfortunate glow-worms in wooden matchboxes. And later still came visits to Lord’s and the Oval, when it was my fortune to see some of our old heroes in the flesh. Certainly they made more runs than they had been wont31 to do in the past, but— It is not wise to examine our heroes too closely, though I am not alone in thinking that first-class cricketers are lacking a little in the old spirit. Indeed, how can they hope to keep it, they who are grown so wise?
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1
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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narrating
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| v.故事( narrate的现在分词 ) | |
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3
flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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4
swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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5
mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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6
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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7
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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8
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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9
rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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10
zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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12
bowlers
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| n.（板球）投球手( bowler的名词复数 )；圆顶高帽 | |
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13
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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14
waived
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| v.宣布放弃( waive的过去式和过去分词 )；搁置；推迟；放弃（权利、要求等） | |
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15
titular
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| adj.名义上的，有名无实的；n.只有名义（或头衔）的人 | |
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16
bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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17
impudently
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18
mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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19
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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20
reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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21
mumps
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| n.腮腺炎 | |
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22
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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23
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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24
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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25
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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26
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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27
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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28
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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29
anarchists
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| 无政府主义者( anarchist的名词复数 ) | |
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30
imprisoning
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| v.下狱，监禁( imprison的现在分词 ) | |
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31
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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