It was in the sixties that the chucking controversy first erupted in
Test cricket. Not many tears were shed when Ian Meckiff and Gordon
Rorke of Australia were dubbed chuckers by players and press alike.
What happened to Geoff Griffin of South Africa was somehow more
tragic, because the young fast bowler's career was cut short by umpire
Sid Buller calling him repeatedly in a Test at Lord's in 1960, as also
the exhibition match that followed it. The tragedy could have been
avoided if the fast bowler had been called early in domestic cricket
and given a chance to correct his action before he came to
international cricket.
Contrast the no-nonsense attitude of those times towards bowlers with
illegal or doubtful actions with the softer approach today, especially
on the parts of the cricket boards to which the bowlers in question
owe allegiance. Umpires who call them are subjected to the minutest
scrutiny, even closer than the bowler's action is. A big hue and cry
is raised by both officialdom and fans of the bowler's country and the
matter is turned into an international issue. All kinds of
explanations are offered for the optical illusion that millions of
viewers simultaneously experience, from the bowler being dropped on
his head as an infant to speculation as to whether or not every bowler
that was ever born chucked the odd one, so what's wrong with a few
throws once in a while?
The topic of chucking is an intriguing and entertaining one, the
subject of many a lively discussion among cricketers, cricket-fanciers
and that strange animal, the cricket writer, to whom a bent arm is
worth hundreds of words of undying prose. At just such a debate the
other day, some of us wondered aloud whether chucking would be
legalized soon. All kinds of new scenarios were visualized. A new type
of dismissal was envisaged: Batsman A run out by Bowler B. Another
speculation was the possibility, mooted by the baby of the team of
journalists in conversation, of new legislation that would permit one
throw per over.
All this reminded me of a simple stratagem through which captains of
yore protected their precious strike bowlers (read chuckers) from
umpires hellbent on calling them. They simply brought the called
bowler on from the other end in the hope the umpire there would take a
lighter view of the offending action. And they often got the desired
result. Even if the bowler never again played another first class
game, he had by then won at least one match for you.
I was also reminded of a one-man crusade against chucking launched in
the seventies. Indian umpire Piloo Reporter made it his mission to
eradicate chucking from Indian domestic cricket. He called quite a few
bowlers bowlers everyone knew were chuckers but none dared to call -
in the Ranji Trophy matches in which he stood. And the trick of
changing the bowler's end did not work with him, because he was
perfectly capable of no balling a bowler from his position as straight
umpire, if the square leg umpire chose to ignore an illegal action.
While I can promise you none questioned Reporter's integrity for
taking that courageous step, I am not sure he would get off so lightly
today.