THE ARTISTRY OF CRICKET

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 471, 28 September 1928, Page 6

THE ARTISTRY OF CRICKET

A DAY AT. OLD TRAFFORD THERE is no finer writer on cricket in all England than “Cricketer,” of the “Manchester Guardian.” He has not the homely touch of the late T. Horan, the great playerwriter of the “Australasian” in the long ago. His is the classic style, with striking contrasts and vivid word pictures of incidents in the game which he follows with the joy of a true cricket lover. Listen to him in one of his inspired moments —the game is Kent v. Lancashire, in midAugust, and F. E. Woolley, by scoring 151 out of 277, lias saved Kent from an inglorious collapse before Macdonald’s devastating howling.

TIERE was a sight for the gods of the game who sit aloft and watch whenever greatness is in action on the green earth below. It must have been thrilling to see Spofforth bowling at Grace, Lockwood bowling at Ranjitsinhji. But let us be just to our own day’s glories; Macdonald bowling at Woolley yesterday was a sight not less grand that any ever seen on a cricket field; the mirrors of the cricketers’ heaven will reflect it for ever.

“Woolley’s cricket seemed to 11s to be at one with the afternoon’s soft air and gleaming sunshine. A forcing shot off his pads to the square-leg boundary off Macdonald snatched the on-' lookers’ breath away; it was made across the line of a very fast ball. Woolley gently moved to the side of it, and timed the stroke to the last second’s last fraction . . .

“He sweetly swung his bat at a half volley from Iddon, and lo! it was a

sixer to the on, rather straight. He hit another sixer from Iddon in the ;ame direction—without the slightest departure from his eternal poise of ease and unconcern.

“As Woolley left the wicket, the summer’s sun seemed to go out of the sky. He batted for three hours and five minutes, hit three sixes and 16 fours, and let us all understand yet again that he is the greatest artistbatsman in the game at the present time. An England eleven without Woolley is, of course, a nonsensical conception. Fie. ought to be sent to Australia if only to remind everybody there that once on a time English cricket was, as they used to say at FTambledon, an elegant game, the game of all the graces. “Macdonald took Kent’s first five wickets; he was at his finest and most thrilling. I doubt if ho ever bowled faster for Armstrong in 1921.”