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.

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.