American's initiation has limited appeal (24 July 1999)

24 July 1999

American's initiation has limited appeal

Ted Dexter

I am by no means a lover of all things American. When they fight wars for us, I find myself being just as suspicious as I am grateful. Their golf courses are about half as good as they are cracked up to be. And then there are all those curiously lumpy machines they call cars.

So, taking a seriously famous Hollywood movie mogul to Lord's on the first day of the Test was not a venture undertaken with an entirely light heart. Would Mr Jerry Weintraub find the whole thing simply quaint and undersized? Would his professed interest in the way that cricket is played turn out to be just a way of being polite to an English acquaintance?

Thinking of some way to break him in gently, I looked out one of my favourite cricket books, Phil Edmonds: 100 Greatest Bowlers, and showed him the classical photographs of the Kapil Dev leap and the Dennis Lillee follow-through. David Gower ducking an Imran Khan bouncer caused a degree of interest, especially when I let my guest handle a brand new cricket ball, feeling at first hand what a crack on the head might feel like at 90 mph.

My other method of initiation was to look at the first-class averages with the England players highlighted. When we jointly noted that two of our specialist batters, Ramprakash and Stewart, did not figure in the top 50, I am not sure who was the more surprised.

Our first port of call at the ground was a spot behind 'the batting cage' where Mark Ramprakash seemed to be having a rather uncomfortable time against a three-quarter paced Dean Headley and other assorted net bowlers, but this discomfort helped to accentuate that pace off the pitch which is, of course, the one element of cricket completely divorced from baseball.

Had I been in a coaching mood I would have encouraged the Middlesex captain to stand still longer and definitely not to jump when playing the short ball. Sadly he looked no better in the middle later in the day.

A quick visit to the NatWest media centre gave us a first view of the old pavilion and the chance to explain exactly what was meant by the word 'pitch'. "Could they be moved up and down the ground?" was the first question and I was indebted to a stalwart of cricket press boxes over many years, Wendy Wimbush, the statistician, for explaining the mown rectangles in the middle were of different construction from the outfield and were therefore permanent.

Time was moving on and we needed to complete the circuit of the ground quickly to guarantee seats for a good view of the formal preliminaries. When the opposing captains came out to spin the coin, it was my turn to register dismay at the number of people who seemed to think they had a role to play in this most simple of procedures. More than 20 people milling around is surely a bit much.

I can remember the thrill and the privilege of walking out to the middle, just the two of us, the very centre of attention, albeit at a distance. Then a wave to the dressing room would tell the teams and spectators who was going to bat, with the actual result of the spin revealed later, rather than relaying the news via TV.

Now came the actual play, with the chance to consider unique elements of cricket as well as a couple of unexpected similarities to 'the ballgame'. Apparently the first two batters in baseball have the specific role of getting on base, forming a bridgehead much like seeing off the new ball. Then I was surprised to learn that a 'fly-ball' actually taken by the catcher counts as 'out' in just the same way as a caught behind taken standing up.

Only one fielder with gloves was an obvious difference and the opportunity for the batsman to score through 360 degrees definitely unique to this ball game as compared with any other. Two batsmen at a time was noted with interest and the fact that both have to make base before a run is scored was amply demonstrated when Stewart was shown on the replay screen to be out of his ground as the throw narrowly missed the wicket.

As to the general run of play after the first hour, I explained that the pitch was a little sluggish with the bowlers resigning themselves to steady endeavour rather than all-out attack.

My American guest, despite further discussion on the state of play with no lesser men than Colin Cowdrey and Alec Bedser, finally decided that peak concentration on the game was obviously not the English way of doing things. And judging from the general hubbub of non-related chat going on all around him, he was clearly right.

Having steadfastly refused anything bar a glass of water, he finally relinquished his front row seat and thought that a glass of Pimm's would be appropriate for the occasion. Perhaps this was the defining moment of his conversion, if indeed it turns out to be one.

Source :: Electronic Telegraph (https://www.telegraph.co.uk)