EVERYBODY'S ROYAL THOMIAN BY P.C.D.
MACARTHY
It is a privilege to have been asked to
contribute an article towards the Centenary of the Royal-Thornian.
This truly historic game of cricket has survived the passage of
time, each year bringing new faces, experiences and thrills to the
arena of this great game.
It's a revelation, just watching small boys
waving flags bigger than themselves shouting advice to players who
can't hear a thing because their own hearts are pounding louder,
wrestling with their own torment of nerves, trying to look calm and
yet shivering all over with excitement. Batsmen walk to the crease
on "cotton wool' grass, numb all through, and take guard with a bat
that feels there as a fishing rod, tapping down imaginary holes in
the pitch to steady their nerves.
Bowlers praying that the first ball they bowl
is not clean off the wicket, and wicket-keepers wishing they had
gloves as large as cricket nets. Slip fielders saying to themselves,
"I hope he doesn't snick one to me."
'Silly point' and 'Crazy Leg' hoping the
batsman doesn't bore a hole through their skulls; while batsmen in
pads in the pavilion waiting for their turns to go in, quietly tell
themselves, "I hope to heaven, the guy out there doesn't get out,"
in the meantime making several trips to 'you know where' to 'do'
practically 'nothing' to release their nervous tension.
The "cloud nine' feeling of 'hero' batsman
being carried shoulder high by joyous supporters and getting their
bottoms pinched for 'Good Luck.' The mortifying feeling of being
bowled first ball for a 'duck' and the long trek back to the
pavilion wishing all the way that the earth would open and swallow
them up.
The 'inspection' of the wicket by hordes of
kids, looking for something mysterious that doesn't exist and
Autograph hunters frantically trying to get near their idol for that
'Autograph', scrawled so fast or to be practically indecipherable—
but treasured.
Old boys sitting in the stands, some with
friends and some with 'foes', telling each other how they 'murdered'
such and such a bowler in 'their' day.
Captains chewing gum, or the ends of their
shirt collars, while coaches sit quietly at the Bar sipping 'Old
Stuff' trying to calm their obvious emotions.
Umpires hoping they never have to make a
decision— and never win anyway, while masters chat among themselves
probably saying "I wish 'he' had as much brains for Maths as he has
in his bat".
Supporters parading the ground in packs
exchanging abuse and taunting jeers with friendly foes, while the
fair sex glamorously clothed, drive the young bloods crazy with
excitement. The traumas are endless!
And! finally after the match is all over, may
it be won, lost or drawn by the 'gladiators of the day', all stagger
home weary, worn and with hoarse throats; while many an old boy
still 'bat on' delightfully bemused, to reflect on all that might
have happened "IF".
So the day ends, with visions of "We'll show in
next year", thoughts. But! what a day it has been and I'm sure that
there is no experience on earth that can match the thrills, spills
and emotions that encompass all at the "Royal-Thomian". Would you
miss all this? I wouldn't miss it for Worlds-see you there!
