Cricket - a metaphor for life?

The faded photograph at the Adelaide Oval

In one of the many rooms of cricket memorabilia at the Adelaide Oval Cricket Ground is a large, framed but faded black and white  photograph – over half a century old. For those unfamiliar with cricket the Adelaide Oval is one of the greatest of the  world’s cricket grounds and the scene of many of cricket’s greatest moments over very many years. It is the home of the South Australia Club and a premier Test Match ground. It was the home of arguably the world’s greatest batsman, Don Bradman and is the scene of some of the great cricket stories and legends. One of the greatest and perhaps most infamous Tests of all time was played there over eighty years ago when England were the visitors in the famed “Ashes bodyline series” of the early 1930s. It is a picturesque, even beautiful ground - some regard it as the most beautiful cricket venue in the world - set in parkland where, as you walk around it, one can feel the ghosts of cricket’s past, of great names, great stories and great cricketing deeds. Even though one is in a great modern cricketing arena on the far side of the world one  still feel the links with cricket’s past – English village greens, warm English beer and the sound of ball on willow. The Adelaide Oval is, in short, what cricket is all about.

Phillip Hughes is struck by a bouncing ball

Today, however, its flags are flying at half mast following the tragic death of one of South Australia’s – and Australia’s great modern players – Phillip Hughes. Hughes, a young but greatly talented, experienced and skilful player was struck by a bouncing ball while batting for South Australia against rivals New South Wales in Sydney earlier this week. His death, two days after the event has rightly stunned the cricketing world.

As I read of his death I was taken back to late November  2006 when I fulfilled a long held ambition and visited the Adelaide Oval and I again thought of that faded photograph. It was a photo taken in 1960 showing one of cricket’s great innings – that of Ken Mackay and Lindsay Kline, two Australian players facing what was then the world’s greatest team – the mighty West Indies and within that team cricketing gods such as Sobers and Worrell as well as some of the most feared bowlers in the world – Wes Hall, Lance Gibbs and Alf Valentine. As I toured the Oval eight years ago I have many wonderful memories – the Bradman statue, the trophies, the bats and  balls that have been held by great players and won games, the many photographs recalling great deeds and great games – but none stand out in my mind quite so much as that faded photograph from 1960. For within it, I thought then and I still think now, is what cricket is all about. And, indeed in many ways, I might add it is, like cricket itself,  a kind of metaphor for life.

The Adelaide scoreboard records Hughes for all time.

So why did I think of it when I read of the sad death of Phillip Hughes?

Cricket, I believe, is in a way unique amongst sports. I suppose that it could be that American baseball comes close but not to the same degree as cricket. Most sports - be they team games like football or individual pursuits like, say,  tennis – involve some kind of equality of competition – the whole team against the other team or the single tennis player against another individual. Cricket, however is different for although it is a team sport  at its very heart it is the battle between an individual - the batsman - and the rest of other team.  Eleven against one. And that was what was at the heart of the faded photograph.

So what did the old photo speak of? It told the tale in one stunning shot of the final moments of the Test Match between Australia and the West Indies at the Adelaide Oval in 1960. It spoke of the very essence of cricket and, as I have said, cricket’s metaphor for life. The West Indies were on track for victory, it was 4 pm on the last day of play, only two hours cricket remained. For Australia to gain a draw they had to avoid being bowled out (i.e. all the batsmen out) before the end of play at 6 pm. The West Indies needed to take only one more wicket (i.e. get one batsman out) in that two hours to claim victory. They were the hottest of favourites to win the game, it seemed a mere formality. At just after 4 o'clock an Australian wicket fell and the last Australian batsman came in – Lindsay Kline. Kline was a bowler, he was not a high profile batsman, he was what is called in cricket parlance a “tail ender” –  not in the team for his batting skills. He was a player who should easily be got out by the opposition. The other batsman, Ken Mackay, was a little more experienced and accomplished  as a batsman and the Australian strategy was clear. As the senior batsman Mackay had to try to defend as many balls as possible and not expose the weaker batsman Kline to the mighty West Indian bowling attack. Runs were irrelevant – Mackay and Kline had simply to avoid either of them being dismissed, survive the two hours. If either of them were out then the Indies had won. The odds were overwhelmingly stacked against the Australians - it was quite simply a chance in a million and the West Indians could feel the scent of victory! Already, one or two in the great crowd were leaving the stadium, defeat was staring the home side in the face.

On my guided tour

What followed was one of the truly great two hours of cricket and cricketing folklore as the West Indian bowlers hurled every kind of bowl – fast and spin - down at the two batsmen. The West Indian fielders gathered close around the batsman to put them off,  to intimidate them and to look for the slightest touch that would give a catch and so give the West Indies a deserved victory. The faded photo catches this perfectly – Kline standing with his bat defending his wicket, every member of the West Indian team, except Hall the bowler, standing  so close to him they could touch his bat, their hands ready, bodies arched like lions ready to pounce upon any small error he might make. It was Kline and Mackay against the West Indies, and slowly but surely the two Aussies "dug in", refused to be beaten into submission. As the tension mounted the West Indian attack speeded up their bowling rate so as to hurl more bowls down at the Australian batsmen; a total of 905 balls were bowled in that day and 315 in that last two hours while Kline and Mackay stood at their wickets - these bowling rates have never been beaten since.

It was the stuff of Greek legend when a mere mortal takes on the Gods; it was the stuff of which Wagner could have made an opera! Mackay and Kline played over after over without scoring – simply defending their position, backs to the wall. When the bowlers changed ends, and whenever possible, they tried to score  a single run so that the more experienced Mackay would be facing the bowling. And the minutes ticked by as the Adelaide Oval clock slowly moved towards 6 pm, the crowd watching with bated breath, huge intakes of breath as each bowl was delivered and the batsman survived yet again. There were close calls, and heart stopping moments. As allowed, the West Indian bowlers took the new ball when it became available – that in itself making it more difficult for the batsmen, for the new ball behaves differently than a well used one. Slowly the game edged towards its final minutes and as it did so the West Indians became more desperate, often relying on the huge fast bowling powers of Wes Hall, to the point where he was becoming exhausted.  Kline had come to the crease with 101 minutes to play, he batted 110 minutes due to the extended last over. Mackay and Kline batted together for 283 balls, not including no balls. It still today is  the longest last wicket stand (in balls bowled) for which records have been found. Wes Hall, the most feared bowler in the world strained every muscle in his giant body hurling balls at terrifying speed towards the two batsmen but still they held their wickets. But Wes Hall, despite his fearful reputation and despite his great desire to give victory to his West Indian team, was also the consummate sportsman; not once did he bowl a bouncer to injure Kline as he would surely have done against a more accomplished batsman – he knew and respected that Kline was a tail ender of little batting skill and no matter the prize Hall chased, he would remain a gentleman and sportsmanship would still prevail. When asked after the game why he had not intimidated the two batsmen in the manner that he might have against more skilled batsmen, Hall, a gentle giant, was clear: "That would have been unfair" he said "I would like to be remembered as a good cricketer, not a cricketing bully". Kline’s achievement and Hall’s sportsmanship passed into cricketing folklore and earned both cricketing renown. And as the clock ticked to 6 pm the last over began Mackay faced Hall who was by now totally exhausted from his gargantuan bowling efforts. The over went on and on until the very last ball of the over and the match. Mackay successfully played the ball - Australia – or rather Kline and Mackay - had succeeded and earned the draw! A group of schoolboys, cheering, rushed on to the pitch. The West Indians looked dejected. But.........no,  there was still one small bit of drama left, it was not over. The umpire called “no ball”, so the final ball had to be bowled again! Wes Hall looked exhausted, dejected, it seemed that he may not be able to bowl it. Mackay, meanwhile, had to muster the concentration to play out yet another ball to save the match. One wonders what went through his mind. Later, in his own words, he said  “As I faced the last ball I thought –  I'll only play it if I have to, if it’s a bit short I’ll take it on the body or the head if necessary.” As Mackay had anticipated, a tired but hopeful Hall let loose a shorter pitched bowl. Showing exemplary courage, Mackay let the ball hit his ribs, resulting in bruising, but ensuring that he had seen Australia off to safety. The game was drawn.

Forty years on........ old foes meet again,Wes Hall
and Lindsay Kline being acknowledged in
 the 2000 Test between Australia and the West Indies

As the dejected West Indians, and especially the completely worn-out Hall (he had taken 11 minutes to finish the final over), made their way to their dressing room Kline and Mackay were raised shoulder high by the invading Australian fans: they had batted out the required  time and in doing so pulled off the most sensational cricketing escape of all time. They had done their duty, faced the whole of the greatest cricket team on earth and were not found wanting. In doing so Kline scored only 15 runs - the most he ever scored in a Test Match - but that was irrelevant, it was the essence of what he had to do – not get out. Mackay scored in total 62 but in his partnership with Kline 41 – but again, the numbers are irrelevant, neither player would or could ever play a more important innings no matter how many runs they scored.

Hughes at the peak of his career

As I stood there in 2006 and looked at the photo in the Adelaide Oval and as I today, eight years later,  read of the tragic death of Phillip Hughes the opening line from Kipling’s great poem “If” came into my mind: “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing their and blaming on you........”. Kipling’s poem, like cricket is metaphor, a description of the qualities of a good life. And there also ran through my head the words of the first verse of my favourite poem, Vitaï Lampada by by Sir Henry Newbolt:

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night —
Ten to make and the match to win —
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play, and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote —
      "Play up! play up! and play the game!"

And Kline, Mackay, Hall and all the rest had indeed “played the game”. In Kipling’s words they had:

[forced their] heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

They had, too, followed their Captain’s orders to the letter, and not been found wanting when the chips were down.  As each had stood and faced the bowlers they had been crowded with the opposition players – the close field........". There’s a breathless hush in the Close tonight......” the opposition waiting like vultures to pick them off just as the boy in Vitaï Lampada stood, doing his duty, carrying out his captain's orders in the  gathering twilight of "The Close" (as Rugby's cricket pitch is known) the opposition close fielders  hovering, threateningly and silently around him waiting for his least mistake, ready to pounce. He, like Kline and Mackay half a century later did  not “[lose]their heads”.

Hughes in Test Match action - like Kline and Mackay before
him, total concentration as the leather missile flies towards
him and the close fielders gather around.

And that in a nutshell is life. There are times when we have to be team players, work with others to get the results that we want – be it at home, in the family or at our work. There are times when we have to follow orders – even though sometimes we might fear failure or might want to do otherwise – we have to sink our own wishes in favour of the greater good. There are times to be brave and times to be cautious, times to hit out and times to hold back. And, throughout our lives there are times when we have to stand up and be counted, be “tested” by others as to our inner strength and temperament as Kline and Mackay were for two hours on that day in 1960. The innings of Kline and Mackay summed all of this up. And indeed so did the West Indies too – Hall and his compatriots played the game, they too were tested and not found wanting. They strove "heart, nerve  and sinew" to outwit and overcome the joint obstacles of Kline and Mackay and in doing so ensured not only Kline and Mackay’s place in the history books but also their own through their effort, skill and above all their sportsmanship. Again in the words of Kipling: “[they] met with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same.

The Trent Bridge screen this morning

“Play up, play up and play the game.........”

As I read of the sad death of Phillip Hughes I thought about all this. I have never been good enough to play serious cricket – a half reasonable fielder but with little batting or bowling skill.  But I do know a little of what it feels like to walk to the crease and stand before the wicket, bat in hand as the bowler runs down to hurl this missile at you whilst around you are gathered the close fielders, waiting to pounce on your smallest mistake. In that split second, even in a fun game on a scrubby patch of grass, you know that you are being tested; it is you against the world. Phillip Hughes, as a first class batsman, would know it well. He would have known what Kline and Mackay knew and felt as they stood there on that far off day. Many of the tributes paid to this young man have spoken of his love of the game and how, sad though it is, he died doing what he loved – playing cricket and facing the opposition while they gathered around him just as they had gathered around Kline and Mackay, testing his resolve and purpose. Testing him not only as a cricketer but as a human being. Hughes. like Kline, Mackay, Hall and the rest would have known the truth of Kipling when wrote:

Hughes' colleagues try to assist him

And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

All of these thoughts flooded into my mind as I read the sad news from Australia. I Googled the Adelaide Oval this morning and saw the flag flying at half mast and Phillip Hughes’ name and birth/death date displayed on the scoreboard. His last entry on that board. I thought, too, of that wonderful day eight years ago when I walked around the ground on a guided tour and saw first hand many of the things that I had only heard, read and dreamed about. And I remembered that faded photograph and thought that Phillip Hughes would have looked at it often and been able to empathise with the players portrayed.

Soon, I expect, his photograph or some other memorial will rightly be displayed amongst the memorabilia for future generations to marvel at and for those who saw him play and remembered his death, it will like a twitch on the thread, take them back to November 2014. I have just read that there is to be a state memorial service to the player and here, on the other side of the world, I have just seen the photograph of Hughes currently displayed on the big screen at Trent Bridge Cricket Ground just a couple of miles away from where I live here in Nottingham. Hughes’ death is resounding across the cricket world. Trent Bridge has a strong historical link with the Adelaide Oval for in the early 1930s when the infamous “bodyline” Ashes series was played out in Australia two of the two of the main protagonists, English bowlers Harold Larwood and Bill Voce were both Nottinghamshire players who under the orders of their captain, Douglas Jardine adopted “bodyline bowling” to counter and intimidate the great Australian and South Australia player, batsman Donald Bradman.(see blog "So Here Hath Been Dawning": May 2012) The ensuing dispute about the use of the tactics by England at the Adelaide Oval almost brought the British Empire to its knees.It was one of cricket's darkest hours and still today can raise the blood pressure for it is about the very essence of the game. Sadly, perhaps, echoes of this can still be heard with the tragic death of Phillip Hughes – he was struck and killed by a high speed bouncing ball.............. “Play up play up and play the game........”

 IF 
 Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Hughes, wearing his beloved "green baggy" - the Australian 

international cap - signs autographs in happier times. He did, 

"Play up, play up and played the game"

Postscript: Today (3rd December) we read of the funeral of Phillip Hughes in his home town of Macksville. His family, friends, well wishers and the great and good of both Australia and the wider cricket world were there. Eulogies and heart felt words were, of course, spoken and some in particular caught my eye – those of the Australian Cricket captain and team mate of Hughes, Michael Clarke. He spoke of how he had walked onto the Sydney Cricket Ground pitch on the night of Hughes's death remembering the moments they had shared together on the famous ground that was also the place he was fatally injured:

“I stood at the wicket, I knelt down to touch the grass, and I could sense he was here with me, telling me tea’ …"Picking me up off my feet to check if I was OK, telling me we just needed to dig in and get through to tea before passing on a useless fact about cows, and then swaggering back to the end, grinning at the bowler and calling me through for a run in a booming voice.” Clarke told mourners that, for him, Hughes will always be at the ground where he last batted. “His spirit has touched it, and it will forever be a sacred ground for me. I can feel his presence there.....Hughes will be, forever, 63 not out.......[but] we must play on.”

And as I read these words I thought how they resembled the spirit of the game and life – “get through till tea”........ “dig in, don’t give up”.......just as Kline and Mackay (and countless other cricketers) had done all those years before.....and as people all over the world do in their daily life. And I thought of the final words of Vitaï Lampada - which, of course means "The Torch(es) of Life" - reminding us of this as a metaphor for our own lives......carrying on, keeping going, keeping the flame alight, never forgetting......Play up Play up and Play the Game.

This is the word that year by year

While in her place the School is set

Every one of her sons must hear,

And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind

Bear through life like a torch in flame,

And falling fling to the host behind --

"Play up! play up! and play the game!"