UMPIRE’S LOT

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 544, 22 December 1928, Page 12

UMPIRE’S LOT

Not a Happy One THEIR OBSCURE GLORY The same passion for self,abbregation, which makes some men go to the Antarctic, or swallow typhoid germs for science’s sake, or sit on top of a flagpole for a fortnight, or stay at home every Wednesday night to play grab with their aunts, oi> have lunch annually with their vegetarian friends, induces others to become cricket umpires. And theirs, one feels, is the noblest expression of sacrifice. How they have been working in this match between Australia and England (says a writer in the Sydney “Morning Herald). What with evading the ball which batsmen and fieldsmen seem to aim at them with a wholly personal venom, and putting back the bails, Mr. Duckworth is always knocking off, and giving men out lbw., and trying to evade the eye of those dismissed batsmen as they walk off the field, and chasing pieces of paper, the poor chaps have had a wretched time. And what do the ingrates on the hill sav about it? “Why don’t yer stay awake,’’ thev shriek. “What about bringing on a new ham and beef merchant?” That last cruel remark, which never fails to bring tears to the eyes of a sensitive umpire (and all umpires are sensitive, nervous men, being unarmed among big cricketers who might at any moment hit them with a bat or throw the ball at them) —that last remark is inspired by the umpire’s clothing. He wears a white coat five sizes too big, and an obliterating hat to disguise, him heavily from batsmen, who, having a grudge, might meet him in the street and push him under a tramcar. Some people say that one need only bo able to count Lip to eight to bo a good umpire. That is not so. You must be thin, also. A fat umpire would be a danger to himself and an impediment to the field. Cricketers speak with horror of an umpire, weighing 23 stone, who received a ball just below the chest as he was standing at square leg. The ball sprang back, stunned the two batsmen, and richochetted into the wicket-keeper s hands; and the batsmen were dismissed. Certainly this is not authenticated, but it only shows you . . . Quick-witted people umpires often are, too. They need to be. They have to remember that the batsmen they give out “legs before” may field subsequently behind them. Many umpires have gone prematurely bald through being hit continually on the head by a ball which apparently slipped out of square leg’s hand. Who can withhold from the famous Yorkshire umpire the lavish admiration his genius so richly deserves? The Lancashire big hitter was hammering the ball about so much that all the spectators had escaped into the trees a'nd the bowlers were being treated in the pavilion for apoplexy. The situation looked hopeless, when a ball broke across the wicket and hit the batsman on the knee. Somebody appealed, and the Yorkshire umpir** agreed that the man was out.

“But who appealed?” asked the team afterwards.

“Well, it was like this,” explained the umpire, who led the church choir with a very flexible baritone. “When yer couldn’t move him and the ball hit

his leg I sang out in alt ‘How’s that?’ and then said in bass ’Out:’ UNGRATEFUL SPECTATORS

People have been saying hard things about the umpires in this match, ana indeed, the umpire never expects anything better. Every man’s hand is against him. The bowlers scowl at him, the batsmen snarl at him, and the fieldsman who misses a catch on the boundary always asserts that it was because the umpire’s beard got in the light. A FRIGID DAY

There was plenty of reason to pity the umpire yesterday. Apart from having to deny White again and again —and nobody likes saying No to ono who asks so prettily as White —they suffered a lot trying to keep warm. Fieldsmen could run about, and. less frequently, of course, batsmen, too, but you can’t imagine an umpire running.

It was a terrible day. Tate endured great anguish with his vast area of feet, which froze and had pins and needles, and curled up in his boots. He looked ,at various parts of the game, like a dejected penguin. There was a brief, general warming up when Larwood swung a fast one on to Harris’s knee, but that was purely artificial, the result of what Harris said.

“Tut, tut!’* remarked the umpire, and patted him on the head, but Larwood only smiled fiendishly. One felt that being a fast bowler had its compen sations. •