The Art of Coarser Cricket

'Our Beautiful, Difficult, Summer Game' is how CB Fry, an England Cricket Captain, once described cricket. CB Fry also played in a number of test matches against Wynberg Old Boy, Aubrey Faulkner.

With the winter we have just had in the Cape, it has been hard to imagine sitting on a boundary rope in bright sunshine watching a contest between willow and leather. As the donor this winter season of two umbrellas and a pair of Citrusdal's finest footwear to the good cause of watching Wynberg's rugby and hockey teams take on the elements and opposition teams, I have since then been looking in vain for weeks for signs of spring buds heralding the emergence of white flannels.

Azis Samaai, Chairman of United Cricket Clubs Youth Section, couldn't have put his request to me at a better time. "I know it is late notice," he said to me in my office one day early in September, "but would Wynberg like to enter an u15 team into the Cape Youth Festival during these holidays?"

I accepted with alacrity. Here was a chance for more boys to experience 'proper' cricket rather than the dreary diet of T20 whizz pops. Shaun Hewett, as Master in Charge of Cricket gave a more reasoned response, "I have six coaches away on three tours already," he said. "Who will take the side? Besides the boys may have holiday plans."

I saw my opportunity. "I will take them," I said. "I will put an announcement in assembly asking for all keen u14 and u15 cricketers who are not on tour to volunteer."

Larry Moser was disapproving. "How will you fit this in? You have 158 Matric report comments to write before Wednesday ..."

"No problem," I said waving the Deputy Principal off airily. "I have never missed a deadline yet ..."

There was a large group of cricket-smitten volunteers outside my office after assembly which disproved the theory that boys only want to play bash / wallop cricket. Now a major problem reared its head. How do we choose a side from a large bunch of willing and passionate young cricketers?

Kyle Williamson and Rodney Inglis volunteered to help me coach the team. Feeling rather like an executioners, we eventually whittled the names down to 13 - which became 14 when one boy refused to take no for an answer.

Then the practices began. First practice was on the tennis courts to practice stroke play (because it was raining); the next one was in a classroom to discuss field placings because it was raining); another one was on the artificial pitch (because it was raining). In between rain, we even managed to have some sessions in the nets. Now I await the time when these boys become captains of industry in future years and, knowing Wynberg's need for indoor coaching facilities, will donate copiously and generously to this project ...

On the Monday (a public holiday) before the festival began, we had a middle practice. 'Only at Wynberg,' complained Mrs Philp. 'I had to drive in this morning from Fish Hoek at 6.00am to deliver one son for his Grade 10 Camp and then drive back another 30 kilometres at 3.00 pm to bring the other one to cricket! This is meant to be my day off!'

Jared couldn't understand what his mother's problem was. Neither could I. This was, after all, in the fine cause of CB Fry's beautiful summer game!

The first day of the festival arrived with the players dutifully arriving 45 minutes before the game against Bergvliet ... to drizzle. A late start, then on we went to do battle in a 40 over game. We won the toss and opted to bowl first. Before every game, in order to forestall any unhappiness from three boys having to sit out, we cleared with the opposing coach that we could field and bowl 14 players.

After five overs, I was looking to the skies wondering where the rain was when we wanted it.  Bergvliet had gleefully clubbed 51 runs and were going like steam trains - eventually to close their innings at an impressive 243 / 7. Admittedly we did give them 7 extra overs and 41 runs by bowling 31 wides and 10 no balls. Maybe Larry Moser was right - I should have prioritised the Matric reports. Cricketers whom I have coached in the past, will knowingly predict how the lunch-time team discussion went ... It certainly did not follow the recommendations of Gary Kirsten and Paddy Upton who, in a talk I attended recently, advised coaches always to concentrate on the strengths and the positives which can be taken out of a game.

All well and good for them - but I bet that they never had one of their teams bowl 31 wides ...

Chris Merrington, the WBHS social media editor, rang during the lunch break to find out how it was going. "We will struggle to win this one," I gloomily predicted with the experience of years of coaching behind me.

Within half an hour Facebook was blaring out the news: 'Richardson's Invitation X1 sinking fast ...'

Fortunately my cricket teams over the years have traditionally never listened to me. Aidan hit 92 and then was run out attempting an impossible run. Pity - it would have been his first century ever. Justin contributed a stylish 51 and Dylan 37* and we passed the Bergvliet score with an over to spare and four wickets in hand.

After the match, we handed out the kit - a festival shirt and pullover. Paul, one of the smaller boys in the team received a large in both items. He was not happy. "How can I wear these?" he complained with the pullover nearly down to his knees.

"You're lucky," I said. "When the others outgrow their kit by next year, you will look good in yours ..."

That seemed to do the trick and he happily kept wicket for the festival - fortunately not tripping over anything.

The following day was against United on the Jacques Kallis Oval. "Now you all have to know the conditions under which Jacques gave his name to this Oval," I told them with due seriousness. "It was that no Wynberg cricketer will EVER throw his wicket away on this field ..."

"Wow," said Tim. "Now I am nervous ..."

Fortunately, United did not know these JK Oval rules and with Jared breaking through with three early wickets, United were all out for 107. One red-shirted spectator did his best to help their cause. "WIDE, Mr Umpire!" he shouted at me when the ball went down the leg side - unfortunately not seeing it clip the pads of the batsman on the way passed.

Proving that the view from the bank is not always better, he tried again later. A lusty blow stopped about a metre from the boundary. "FOUR!" he demanded - no doubt hoping that would encourage the ball to continue rolling.

The next over saw the same batsman launch into one of Phillip's leg spinners and dispatch it over the Oval Pavilion. It was a huge blow and dented Phillip's ego no end. "What did I do wrong?" he asked me disconsolately afterwards. I laughed (through gritted teeth), "Nothing! Just enjoy a great shot."

Having learnt from Mr Red Shirt, the United players kept up a steady stream of comments when they came on to field. "Don't worry about him," the cover shouted to no-one in particular about Matthew who was opening the batting. "He is just swinging like a rusty door in the wind."

The rusty door had the last laugh, as remembering Kallis' injunction, Matthew batted for over an hour for a well constructed 21. He eventually nicked one but was given not out by the United umpire. "THAT WAS OUT!" announced Mr Red Shirt from the bank. Matthew agreed and walked. Eleven United players ran over to him and shook him by the hand for his sportsmanship.

Our Captain, Shu-aib, also took flak. "You must be a vegetarian," he was told. "Your bat has no meat!" That comment was lost on Shu-aib. Ignoring all the advice from the fielders, we went on to win by six wickets.

Day Three saw Bergvliet convincingly turn the tables on us in a T20 encounter and then it was off to play Pinelands on the last day.

We won the toss, opted to bat and played well to get to 170 /4. Three run-outs later and we were 183 all out. Two of the run-outs were plain suicidal. The third was straight out of 'The Art of Coarse Cricket'.

Following instructions, Liam asked the umpire how many balls left so that he could check that they were up to the run rate for that over. "One to come," he was told. Unable to penetrate the field, he then hit the last ball straight to a fielder. No run. The fielder threw it in, hit the stumps and the ricochet rolled past cover. Liam called for the run and ended up standing at Dylan's end. The conversation was priceless.

Liam: "Dylan RUN ... the ball is live."

Dylan: "No, it is not - the umpire said it was last ball of the over."

Liam: "But he hasn't called 'over' yet - so the ball is live. Dylan ... RUN."

Three or four of the Pinelands fielders then wandered over to join in the chat. "It is dead because it hit the stumps," said one helpfully.

Liam knew his rules. "No it is not. Dylan ... RUN."

Dylan: "What for? The ball is dead."

In the meantime, the cover fielder sauntered over to the ball and lobbed it into the keeper - who for the sake of something to do, took off the bails and appealed. A surprised Liam did a quick volte-face. "It can't be out, the ball is dead," he announced emphatically denying his argument of the last three minutes.

Kyle Williamson was unmoved. "Out!" he said - and Liam had to go - understandably with very bad grace. The heated discussion between Dylan and Liam continued right through lunch break ...

The Pinelands innings was a nail-biter. They lost wickets but kept going. Suddenly 183 seemed a small total. With 20 runs to go and five Pinelands wickets in hand, we looked dead and buried. Kyle Williamson was pacing up and down.

"I have never been so nervous even when playing in a cricket game," he said.

"Good grief, Kyle, it is only a game," I said, gripping the sides of my camp chair. The last man came in with 9 runs to go. 4 off the edge to third man. 2 through covers - a misfield caused by the tension. My knuckles were whitening as they now gripped the camp chair with intensity.

Then Anele put us all out of our misery by bowling the last man neck and crop. We had won by two runs. Anele's first wicket of the festival was his most vital. Roy of the Rovers would have been proud of the subsequent scenes. No humility in victory here as players lifted one another aloft in delight.

It was a great four days. I am sure that no Wynberg player has heard of CB Fry - but they would certainly  understand his sentiments - it IS a beautiful Summer Game and no doubt these four days helped them understand how difficult cricket really is.

To cap it all, I met my deadline for the Matric report comments.

Tutu - Rabble Rouser for Peace

Archbishop Desmond Tutu & Keith Richardson

This is the title of a recent biography by John Allen for a man who was once labelled as South Africa’s ‘Public Enemy Number One’ - Archbishop Desmond Tutu. It was with anticipation of something worthy for our boys, that I wrote to him some five months ago asking him if he would be prepared to share some thoughts with the men of Wynberg.  He gave the audience of pupils, teachers and support staff, memories which they will remember for the rest of their lives.

‘I was brought up to believe that he was the devil incarnate,’ said Mike Engelbrecht, one of our House Heads during the lunch we had with him after the assembly. 'Now twenty five years later, I am privileged to sit next to him on stage.’

And, if the truth be told, he was also privileged to join the rest of the audience in giving him a standing ovation afterwards ...

Before school that morning, a very sceptical Siyabonga Beyile was in my office to discuss how he was going to thank the Archbishop. ‘Are you absolutely sure you are not having us on?’ he asked. ‘Are we really having the Archbishop to address our assembly?’

‘I was brought up by my parents on stories of Tutu, Mandela and Chris Hani,’ he said. ‘I never thought I would ever get to meet any of them. To me, meeting Tutu is like meeting Superman – he is the hero.’

Siyabonga was part of the reception committee at the entrance to the school for Superman. When he arrived to be greeted by a posse of cameras, Pat Rogers who runs our website, asked if she could take a photograph of him standing with me at the entrance to the school.

‘Well it is his reputation that is at stake,’ said Tutu, who then promptly dissolved into giggles as he stood next to me.

‘Sir,’ whispered Siyabonga to me as we walked to the hall. 'He arrived in a Toyota and had no bodyguards ...’

Are you listening, all you politicians out there?

There was a murmur through the hall when this remarkable man came on stage. All eyes were on Tutu who greeted and shook hands with the front row of the stage party. Head Prefect, Nick Martin, went blood-red as one of South Africa’s icons proffered him his hand. I bet Nick’s palms were sweaty!

The school’s African Choir came on stage and sang two songs for the Archbishop:  Phind’ukhulume (‘Talk to me, Lord) and Ndikhokhele Bawo (Lead me, Lord). They sang magnificently and Wandisele Ngeyi, their singing coach, gave a loud and appreciative ‘yes!’ when they finished which evoked a laugh from the audience.

Archbishop Tutu addresses Wynberg Boys' High School

Spu Mnikina had been given the honour of introducing him to the school. He started off by saying that this Nobel Laureate needed no introduction as this man was the holder of hundreds of accolades and honours from many cities, churches and educational institutions around the world.  At his retirement, he was described by President Mandela as a true South African who had made an ‘immeasurable contribution to our nation’.

Spu finished off his introduction by quoting a comment, once said by the Archbishop,  which he thought epitomised the great man: ‘If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor’.

When he stood up to speak, Tutu gently admonished Spu. ‘You must never say that someone needs no introduction,’ he said. ‘Once I was in New York receiving an international award and a lady came gushing up to me. 'I am so pleased finally to meet you, Archbishop Mandela!’

That is what you call getting two for the price of one ...

The theme of his talk – given without notes – was that the youth must take up the challenge. He told his audience that Africa was the birthplace of humankind. It was time that the Youth of Africa stood up again realising that they had a role to play in the development of the next stage of civilisation. He quoted innumerable instances from the Bible where young men by their actions and by their courage had made a real difference to their societies. ‘I am an old man,’ he said, ‘I dream of a world where there is peace. I dream of a world where all are members of one family and one race – the human race.’

‘I challenge you young people at Rondebosch ...,’ he said. The school was far too polite to say anything but the stunned silence and the looks on the audience’s faces caused him to glance at me and quickly say, ’Wynberg, I meant Wynberg.’ Realising what he had done, he put his head back and roared with laughter. It was a laugh which we had all become accustomed to know well over the years. It rose from the belly - rich and infectious. The school laughed with him. He was quickly forgiven.

A few days later he was at the Baxter Theatre for the ‘Funny Festival’ with some of South Africa’s greatest comedians. He was invited on to the stage and told the audience that he had a reputation for having a sense of humour. ‘I don’t really,’ he said. ‘I just laugh heartily at my own jokes!’

At Wynberg, he finished off his talk as he started – with a challenge. ‘If I meet any of you in ten years time, I want you to come up to me and say that you were motivated at my talk to add value to society and make a difference to the world. How many of you will be inspired to become Nobel Prize Winners? Give the world a new invention? Discover new cures?’

He looked at the left hand side of the hall. ‘How about you?’ Then he looked at the right hand side of the hall. ‘How about you?’

Finally, he looked at the teachers on stage. ‘How about you?’ There were a few moments of dead silence in the hall as we went to sit down before a burst of sustained applause let him know in no uncertain terms that his message had struck home.

In his end-of-term address at the final assembly last Friday, Head Prefect Nick Martin told the school that listening to Archbishop Tutu was the highlight of the term for him. ‘It was almost as good as beating Grey ...’

Now, from a schoolboy, THAT is praise.

In the staff room

After signing some books in my office, we went to the staffroom for lunch. His bowl of soup took him about 45 minutes to consume as every teacher wanted to talk to him and dozens of photographs were taken. Kyle Williamson was overwhelmed. ‘I can’t believe I have just spoken to Desmond Tutu,’ he kept saying over and over again.

‘This is like having a rock star in our staff room,’ said Larry Moser.

‘Only bigger,’ I replied.

Eventually it was time to go. We went back to the Toyota and said our goodbyes. As I shut his door, I asked him, “Was that an intentional mistake about Rondebosch?’

He just winked at me.

Kyle Williamson & Archbishop Tutu

Now I will never know.

Dear Mr Richardson ...

The interviews of prospective incoming Grade 8’s for 2013 have come to an end and now the task begins of sifting through reports, letters from parents and boys, interview notes and confidential feedback from the primary schools.

It is not easy and there is certainly no foolproof system. I went with our Director of Academics, Neil Eddy, to listen to Dr Max Price, Vice Chancellor of UCT, when he spoke last week on the topic of UCT being an elite university. At the end, he was asked a question on admissions and said that if it were up to him personally, the top ten percent of his acceptances would be on marks with the other ninety percent being chosen by lottery (above a certain percentage mark of course).

‘How do you select on a mark?’ he queried. ‘What about character, commitment, energy, curiosity? Does a mark mean the candidate is going to be a good doctor?’

Quite so, Dr Price. Now try selecting twelve year olds for a school. Certainly a lottery would save much time, effort and heartache.

I really enjoyed doing the interviews and made copious notes on what the boys said – both in the interviews and in their letters.

‘I am writing a book,’ said one. ‘It is called Dragon Eye. When I become a famous author one day, I will say I am from Wynberg.’

Move over, Jacques Kallis – a new Wilbur Smith will now be promoting our school.

Others went on a different tack: ‘I desperately want to get into Wynberg. They say all girls love a Wynberg Man!’ I wonder if this would also apply to our young bachelor teachers?

Was his friend saying the same thing, when he wrote down emphatically: ‘I want to wear your uniform because then I know I will get what I want.’

Another one was quite insistent. ‘I am afraid that I have no choice about going to Wynberg.  My father refuses to pay fees for anywhere else and my mother says that she won’t lift me anywhere else.’ Oh, well – if only he had told me that earlier, we could have saved time on the interview!

As with this one: ‘My Mom and Dad believe in me so that that they have not applied for any other school.’

I have been wondering since his interview, what one boy meant by this: ‘Wynberg suits my personality.’

Forthrightness was the order of the day with this young man: ‘I would wear your blazer with so much pride, I would have to be forced to remove it!’ These type of comments are good reminders for our current boys who sometimes find themselves becoming a little blasé about the privilege of attending a top school.

They would also have had their heartstrings tweaked if they had heard this: ‘I only have a twin – but now I will have 800 brothers….’

One boy showed great insight when asked at the interview who he admired the most: ‘Nelson Mandela - because without him, I wouldn’t have most of the friends I have today.’ How could I not put a tick next to his name?

Others decided to put pride in their pocket and wrote: ‘I believe that the Principal is an Arsenal supporter. I have decided to become one as well. Go Arsenal!’

For some, flattery was the order of the day. ‘I have heard that at Wynberg all the teachers have PhD’s.’

My wife was determined that I accept this boy: ‘I just love your dog, Sandy.  I really want to get to know him better.’ Well, when he does, he will find out that it is a ‘she’.

One boy let me know exactly where he wanted to go in life: ‘I want to go to Wynberg because my Gramps went there – and he became a wealthy man.’  Now would be a good time to remind him about the ‘Richardson Mauritius Fund’.

Others clutched at straws: ‘If you accept me, I will use the library every day…’ while another said, ‘I will attend extra classes before and after school every day.’You mean just like the current Wynberg boys clamour to do?

One boy was a little disparaging about academics as he presumably did not have his mother check his letter: ‘The reason I would like to go to Wynberg is academics and other small things.’ I hope Mr Eddy does not read that letter - or this one: ‘I want to be an actuary one day but I am only getting 45% now but I know that your teachers will help me reach my goal.’

The last comment from a hopeful applicant must go to this twelve year old who may regret saying this in years to come: ‘There are too many distractions at Primary School. I must get rid of them. You know what I mean, Sir?’

Some of the parental letters were equally moving – and in many cases, amusing:

‘I was so impressed with the boy who was our guide. I wish his mother could have seen him.  She would have been so proud.’  I would like to think that could have applied to ANY of our guides!

‘Because I came from a family that was fanatical on sport, I specifically chose a husband who was not interested in sport. Guess what? My son inherited my family’s aptitude for sport.  So I am afraid he will just have to go to Wynberg.’

‘It has been an uphill battle to get him to attend other schools’ Open Days.’

‘This is what you will NOT get from my son. He will NOT be a first team rugby player – but he will be your most enthusiastic supporter!’

How can anyone turn a boy down with letters like these? Others let me know in no uncertain terms where I stood:

‘You will have to accept my second son. We are there so often, we might as well pitch a tent.’

‘Your school is one of the best in the country. It will benefit from having my son.’

Again, every boy currently at Wynberg should read this letter and remind themselves why they are at Wynberg: ‘The unfortunate aspect of education in South Africa is that High Schools determine the opportunities we have in life. I want to make sure that my son has a crack at those opportunities.’

I like to hear these types of comment: ‘My daughter was at WGHS. Whenever she brought a Wynberg boy home, I was greeted with a smile and with courtesy.’

‘After listening to the speeches on Open Day, your boys inspire me. They are your biggest assets. I want them to inspire my son next year.’

This expectation certainly puts us under pressure: ‘My son is showing signs of being a teenager. He needs Wynberg.’  Oh dear. But do we need him?

Or this one?  ‘My son must go to Wynberg. He is very lazy and will need your teachers to push him.’

I wonder what this parent meant? ‘I really like the fact that the school is clearly under new management. It shows.’ And to think I thought 14 years was quite a long time!

‘I thought Mr Richardson was being a bit rude in the way he described boys and their behaviour ... until I looked down the row and saw my son and his friends, nudging one another, responding to his insights and laughing heartily.’  I must remember at next year’s Open Day to ensure that I am more polite about our boys. The only problem is that they might not recognise themselves!

My final parental comment must go to one of my former Latin pupils, now a Lawyer:  ‘You were never able to eradicate my propensity and proclivity for using the split infinitive. I hope that you will make a better job with my son.’

I make no promises. No-one ever said that bringing up boys was about perfection!

Sparing the Rod

One of my more pleasurable pursuits at the beginning of every year is to take various groups of Grade 8's on a history tour around their new school - emphasising the traditions, the values and the Brand of this South African institution which has been operating continuously on Wynberg Hill for 171 years.

I always end up in the Oude Wijnberg Museum at Silverhurst gravitating towards the display cabinet in the Tasker Room which holds educational relics of the past - amongst which are an assortment of canes and punishment books.  It is always interesting to see how many of the Grade 8's have not the faintest idea of the function of that bamboo stick and on being told, there is always at least one 13year old know-all who boldly proclaims that he does not think it 'could be that sore!'

I invariably have to fight back the temptation of enhancing his education...

I was somewhat taken aback when one boy this year matter- of- factly volunteered the information that he knew exactly what a cane was and that it was used 'every day' at his Junior School.

This set me thinking about the role of corporal punishment. I remember the story which Old Boy, Chris Hyland loves to tell.  He was selected in his Grade 10 year to take part in the Cape Schools'  Cricket Week in Queenstown in 1974. Long after lights out in the hostel in which they were staying, the Wynberg boys were re- living the day's play no doubt with noisy appeals, comments and shots.

In walked an irate duty housemaster with cane in hand. He duly bent over every Wynberg player and gave him a hiding. The Wynberg boys were then quiet with the other teams no doubt taking their cue from the measures which  had been handed out to the Wynberg team.  Peace was now allowed to reign permitting the housemaster, himself an experienced veteran of many provincial cricket tours, to procure some sleep.

If we as parents and teachers are honest with ourselves, I bet that there are many who are now covertly applauding!

There is no doubt that Power Ruled for all of us now over the age of 35 or so. In retrospect, did it really change behaviour? Generations of Wynberg Old Boys will recall the pride with which they logged the hidings they received on the reverse sides of their school ties.  These would be later proudly shown off as a Badge of Honour. Is there any Old Boy reading this who still has such a tie in his cupboard which he can donate to the museum?

The only time now that I really look back with vague nostalgia at corporal punishment is round about Valedictory time when (some) matrics behave as if they are 18 going on 8. Every year sees some unfortunate matrics (which inevitably mean their parents as well) have their invitations to the Final Ceremony withdrawn for repeated thoughtless and crass behaviour.  Now those boys have lost out on an important Rite of Passage.  Wouldn't a hiding have saved all this heartache?

I remember well the day the news was conveyed to schools that corporal punishment was outlawed. It was just before eight one morning in 1995 when the then Headmaster of Wynberg, Bruce Probyn, arrived at my office door brandishing the fax bearing the announcement. 'I will go with you to tell Ray,' I said with relish, looking forward to seeing his face. Ray Connellan was the Senior Deputy in charge of Discipline.

Ray's door was shut - only to open a few moments later and an unlucky Bubbles Jardine emerge. Knowing Bubbles, I doubt that he had learnt any lesson from that hiding but he certainly learnt the value of 15 seconds!  He has now gone into WBHS history as The Last Wynberg Boy To Be Given a Hiding.

Cecilia Lashlie, a New Zealand author, in her outstanding book  ‘He’ll be okay:  Helping Adolescent Boys become Good Men’  expresses the view that we, as adults, should be applying more consequences rather than punishments. If your son, as an 8-year-old, leaves his lunch on the kitchen table, harden your heart and don't rush off to school with it. Let him go hungry for the day - he will learn more from that.  If from an early age, he understands that there are consequences for every decision, then he will learn a valuable lesson which may save his life one day when his mates urge him to put his foot on the accelerator and take on the orange light...

There is no doubt that both in Business and Society, the time of Leadership based on Power is now passed. This is also being reflected in schools where the emphasis is on building relationships. That is what our Wynberg Way is all about - not about punishing but about steering boys in the right direction. We, at school, encourage our boys to realise that every decision carries a consequence. This consequence invariably puts the obligation on adults - teachers and parents - to work together in the important business of developing boys into quality young men.

Cecilia Lashlie talks about a fence which adults must build alongside the adolescent's road through teenagerhood. The prime reason for this fence should be to keep our sons safe as they negotiate the Road of Life.

My experience of teenage boys is that many parents feel that it would be more expedient if they persuaded Eskom to run the national electricity grid through this fence!