It was a Friday afternoon in February this year when Master-in-Charge of Cricket, Shaun Hewett, accosted me in the corridors outside my office.
'This is a leading question, but do you have any plans for tomorrow?'
I knew what was coming. 'I have a meeting at 9am and have rugby tickets for Newlands at 5pm. Where do you want me to umpire?'
'A touring team of disabled cricketers from Northamptonshire in the UK has been let down badly and has had a number of matches in Cape Town called off for one reason or another. Bishops will give us a field as ours are all have matches on them. I am calling for volunteers who would like a game on a Saturday afternoon. Can you look after the team at Bishops?’
It turned out that it was easy to find eleven keen cricketers who wanted an extra weekend game. U14, U15 and players from the 5th's and 6th's were all on hand to greet me when I arrived on Saturday afternoon 45 minutes before the game, suitably armed with stumps, balls and scorebook.
The tour bus was already there and was being used as a changing room for the visiting players – all of whom were disabled in some form or other. 'Just like we do back home for our football matches,' remarked one of their players.
I was about to laugh at the obvious humour when I saw that he was deadly serious about his team mates playing football matches.
The players were deadly serious about their warm-up as well. Our Wynberg boys were open-mouthed as they watched their opposition - with their variety of disabilities - tackle their warm up with intensity. Their side varied in age from 15 to 54. They were chasing down every ball to the best of their ability, throwing with purpose at the stumps and were cheerfully applauding their team-mates' efforts.
We lost the toss and our visitors opted to bat first. 'Let's make it a T25 rather than a T20 match,' I suggested. 'It is a long way to come from England for only 20 overs.'
My suggestion was favourably received and I found myself walking out with three batsmen as one of them was in need of a runner. While waiting for the fielders to walk into position, one of the batsmen asked me about Allan Lamb.
'We have an Allan Lamb Room in our clubhouse back home, ' he said. 'I believe that he was one of your Old Boys. '
All the team knew Allan Lamb. 'I live in the same village as he does,' another visiting batsman told me later as we were chatting in between overs. 'He and Wayne Larkins are real terrors for the local publicans. I believe he was a Wild One at school.'
'Not at all,' I said airily. 'He was just a normal Wynberg boy.'
I decided that it would be politic at this stage not to mention some of the stories that Allan recounted in his autobiography, ‘The Silence of the Lambs is Over’. He revels in the graphic details about his escapades on school cricket tours with Wynberg. These stories would only spur current schoolboy cricketers to rise to the challenges of the past. Knowing boys as I do, the real challenge to our boys today would be to match (if not surpass) the standards set by those of past eras. It would be wonderful, though, if they rose to Allan’s cricketing standards!
We were still in the first over, when the opening batsman, having nudged a single came and stood next to me at square leg. While he was there, I heard a vibrating sound emanating from somewhere on his person. He gently subsided to the ground and lay on his back with arms outstretched. Now I was under pressure - what should I be doing for him?
The other umpire took the decision for me by wandering nonchalantly over from the bowling end. 'You all right?' he asked the batsman before putting his arms under his armpits and hauling him gently back onto his feet.
'On you go then.' The Wynberg boys were unsure how to respond – so they all clapped him when he rather unsteadily stood on his feet.
The umpire’s sympathetic approach did not last long. A few balls later, the same batsman was rapped on the pads and the dreaded finger was raised. Cricket is a cruel game.
After an eventful first over, I took the cap of Raven Smith who usually opened the bowling for our U15B side. He whistled his first few balls round the ears of the other opening batsman.
'What is his disability?' I asked the batsman standing at my end. I had been impressed by the scampering of the batsmen between the wickets in the first over. However, it had clearly taken its toll because he was now breathing heavily.
'Oh, he is visually impaired,' he said with a singular lack of concern.
I went cold. 'Must I tell the bowler to slow down?'
'Definitely not,' he responded. 'Our batsmen must learn to handle it.'
Evidently he had learnt by the next ball as he sent it soaring over the pine trees into the staff housing on the other side of the road. This signified the start of a rampaging mini run-fest which belied the assertion that he was visually impaired. As his confidence grew, he was keen to call his reluctant partner for sharp singles.
After one challenging run had been turned down by the still-recovering batsman at my end which had resulted in a near run out. This initially resulted in a fair amount of verbal abuse directed by his partner who then dusted himself off and cheerily said: 'No problem.’
And then, the dig. ‘Next time perhaps?'
His partner did not respond to this challenge but merely muttered something unintelligible under his breath. ‘So in what way are you disabled?’ I asked him as we waited for his partner to take guard.
‘I just get knackered easily,’ he said, leaning on his bat to prove the point. ‘I am definitely not running those sharp ones.’
His fitness was destined not to be tested again that innings as shortly afterwards his partner was the victim of a low one from Michael McIntosh, who trapped him in front, and the side was eventually all out for just under 90.
We trooped off to tea and to the delight of the boys, who had not seen food for nearly two hours, we were presented with hamburgers and chips by the Travel Company.
On our return to the middle, the ball was given to a young tearaway fast bowler. The keeper - the visually impaired batsman - opted to stand up behind the stumps.
'Best you stand back,' advised the youngster to the keeper, who was a good twenty years his senior.
'Nonsense!' was the curt response and he stood his ground firmly. He continued to stand firm when the first ball went careering down leg side for four byes.
The keeper remained impervious to the beseeching pleas of his opening bowler. However, his stance did serve to focus the youngster's mind on line and length. It was not long afterwards that the inevitable happened. The school opening batsman, Dale de Kock, let one pass harmlessly outside off stump. This was gathered by the keeper and in one movement, reminiscent of Mark Boucher at his best, coolly took off one bail with his left hand as Dale dragged his back foot marginally out of the crease. Stumped.
‘I bet you are not unhappy with him standing up now,’ I said to the youngster, as he went back to his mark. He had the grace to smile before asking me who would be credited with the wicket – the keeper or him as the bowler.
‘You,’ I said and the smile grew broader.
With one wicket down and 70 to win, it was time for me to go to the rugby match at Newlands and I summoned ‘Bomber’ Harris, the father of one of the players, to do the umpiring honours. It was not a great rugby match and in retrospect I would have enjoyed the entertainment at the cricket far more.
John Ronaldson, coach of the U15A side arrived after I left and wrote the following to me the next day:
The boys won the match in 11 overs. I suggested that we continue to give all the visitors a chance to bowl - they were so keen and wanted to carry on playing! Consequently, we finished rather late as the remaining overs took a while for us to get through. I was so taken with the enthusiasm of the visiting cricketers - their surprising alacrity in the field and their never-say-die attitude. I am always encouraged when I witness the amazing courage and tenacity of the disabled (my sister was in a wheelchair for many years and continued to excel in her work and sporting career - this match reminded me so much of her).
The most important aspect of the match was what it taught our boys. They saw a group of men who did not allow their disabilities to get in the way of their love of cricket. They saw cricketers who played to the very height of their abilities. They saw human beings with severe challenges who did not want one ounce of sympathy.
I would like to think that there was much reflection in the cars going home. The next time these fit and healthy teenagers are asked to run in a heat or swim in a gala, all they need to do is think how much those disabled cricketers would love to be able to participate in the physical activities which we all just take for granted.
Some real learning took place on that Cape Town cricket field on Saturday afternoon, 21 February 2015.
'This is a leading question, but do you have any plans for tomorrow?'
I knew what was coming. 'I have a meeting at 9am and have rugby tickets for Newlands at 5pm. Where do you want me to umpire?'
'A touring team of disabled cricketers from Northamptonshire in the UK has been let down badly and has had a number of matches in Cape Town called off for one reason or another. Bishops will give us a field as ours are all have matches on them. I am calling for volunteers who would like a game on a Saturday afternoon. Can you look after the team at Bishops?’
It turned out that it was easy to find eleven keen cricketers who wanted an extra weekend game. U14, U15 and players from the 5th's and 6th's were all on hand to greet me when I arrived on Saturday afternoon 45 minutes before the game, suitably armed with stumps, balls and scorebook.
The tour bus was already there and was being used as a changing room for the visiting players – all of whom were disabled in some form or other. 'Just like we do back home for our football matches,' remarked one of their players.
I was about to laugh at the obvious humour when I saw that he was deadly serious about his team mates playing football matches.
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| Northants Disability Cricket |
We lost the toss and our visitors opted to bat first. 'Let's make it a T25 rather than a T20 match,' I suggested. 'It is a long way to come from England for only 20 overs.'
My suggestion was favourably received and I found myself walking out with three batsmen as one of them was in need of a runner. While waiting for the fielders to walk into position, one of the batsmen asked me about Allan Lamb.
'We have an Allan Lamb Room in our clubhouse back home, ' he said. 'I believe that he was one of your Old Boys. '
All the team knew Allan Lamb. 'I live in the same village as he does,' another visiting batsman told me later as we were chatting in between overs. 'He and Wayne Larkins are real terrors for the local publicans. I believe he was a Wild One at school.'
'Not at all,' I said airily. 'He was just a normal Wynberg boy.'
I decided that it would be politic at this stage not to mention some of the stories that Allan recounted in his autobiography, ‘The Silence of the Lambs is Over’. He revels in the graphic details about his escapades on school cricket tours with Wynberg. These stories would only spur current schoolboy cricketers to rise to the challenges of the past. Knowing boys as I do, the real challenge to our boys today would be to match (if not surpass) the standards set by those of past eras. It would be wonderful, though, if they rose to Allan’s cricketing standards!
We were still in the first over, when the opening batsman, having nudged a single came and stood next to me at square leg. While he was there, I heard a vibrating sound emanating from somewhere on his person. He gently subsided to the ground and lay on his back with arms outstretched. Now I was under pressure - what should I be doing for him?
The other umpire took the decision for me by wandering nonchalantly over from the bowling end. 'You all right?' he asked the batsman before putting his arms under his armpits and hauling him gently back onto his feet.
'On you go then.' The Wynberg boys were unsure how to respond – so they all clapped him when he rather unsteadily stood on his feet.
The umpire’s sympathetic approach did not last long. A few balls later, the same batsman was rapped on the pads and the dreaded finger was raised. Cricket is a cruel game.
After an eventful first over, I took the cap of Raven Smith who usually opened the bowling for our U15B side. He whistled his first few balls round the ears of the other opening batsman.
'What is his disability?' I asked the batsman standing at my end. I had been impressed by the scampering of the batsmen between the wickets in the first over. However, it had clearly taken its toll because he was now breathing heavily.
'Oh, he is visually impaired,' he said with a singular lack of concern.
I went cold. 'Must I tell the bowler to slow down?'
'Definitely not,' he responded. 'Our batsmen must learn to handle it.'
Evidently he had learnt by the next ball as he sent it soaring over the pine trees into the staff housing on the other side of the road. This signified the start of a rampaging mini run-fest which belied the assertion that he was visually impaired. As his confidence grew, he was keen to call his reluctant partner for sharp singles.
After one challenging run had been turned down by the still-recovering batsman at my end which had resulted in a near run out. This initially resulted in a fair amount of verbal abuse directed by his partner who then dusted himself off and cheerily said: 'No problem.’
And then, the dig. ‘Next time perhaps?'
His partner did not respond to this challenge but merely muttered something unintelligible under his breath. ‘So in what way are you disabled?’ I asked him as we waited for his partner to take guard.
‘I just get knackered easily,’ he said, leaning on his bat to prove the point. ‘I am definitely not running those sharp ones.’
His fitness was destined not to be tested again that innings as shortly afterwards his partner was the victim of a low one from Michael McIntosh, who trapped him in front, and the side was eventually all out for just under 90.
We trooped off to tea and to the delight of the boys, who had not seen food for nearly two hours, we were presented with hamburgers and chips by the Travel Company.
On our return to the middle, the ball was given to a young tearaway fast bowler. The keeper - the visually impaired batsman - opted to stand up behind the stumps.
'Best you stand back,' advised the youngster to the keeper, who was a good twenty years his senior.
'Nonsense!' was the curt response and he stood his ground firmly. He continued to stand firm when the first ball went careering down leg side for four byes.
The keeper remained impervious to the beseeching pleas of his opening bowler. However, his stance did serve to focus the youngster's mind on line and length. It was not long afterwards that the inevitable happened. The school opening batsman, Dale de Kock, let one pass harmlessly outside off stump. This was gathered by the keeper and in one movement, reminiscent of Mark Boucher at his best, coolly took off one bail with his left hand as Dale dragged his back foot marginally out of the crease. Stumped.
‘I bet you are not unhappy with him standing up now,’ I said to the youngster, as he went back to his mark. He had the grace to smile before asking me who would be credited with the wicket – the keeper or him as the bowler.
‘You,’ I said and the smile grew broader.
With one wicket down and 70 to win, it was time for me to go to the rugby match at Newlands and I summoned ‘Bomber’ Harris, the father of one of the players, to do the umpiring honours. It was not a great rugby match and in retrospect I would have enjoyed the entertainment at the cricket far more.
John Ronaldson, coach of the U15A side arrived after I left and wrote the following to me the next day:
The boys won the match in 11 overs. I suggested that we continue to give all the visitors a chance to bowl - they were so keen and wanted to carry on playing! Consequently, we finished rather late as the remaining overs took a while for us to get through. I was so taken with the enthusiasm of the visiting cricketers - their surprising alacrity in the field and their never-say-die attitude. I am always encouraged when I witness the amazing courage and tenacity of the disabled (my sister was in a wheelchair for many years and continued to excel in her work and sporting career - this match reminded me so much of her).
The most important aspect of the match was what it taught our boys. They saw a group of men who did not allow their disabilities to get in the way of their love of cricket. They saw cricketers who played to the very height of their abilities. They saw human beings with severe challenges who did not want one ounce of sympathy.
I would like to think that there was much reflection in the cars going home. The next time these fit and healthy teenagers are asked to run in a heat or swim in a gala, all they need to do is think how much those disabled cricketers would love to be able to participate in the physical activities which we all just take for granted.
Some real learning took place on that Cape Town cricket field on Saturday afternoon, 21 February 2015.
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