Other playing fields - house and second xi cricket in the sixties
In the sixties, house and second
XI cricket were more than nurseries for Royal's cricketers and captains.
They were democratising institutions in more ways than one. For instance,
the second XI (going as the "A" team) took cricket to the rural areas.
Secondly, simply by being a reserve/scorer in the second XI. keen cricketers
could leave school with the satisfaction of having gained representative
honours. To others, even being a reserve for their house team was a source
of pride.
In house cricket lesser lights
could mingle with the stellar performers, and quite often outshine them. In
this sense house cricket was a great leveller. House cricket was also where
the great rivalries of inter school cricket were played out, and where the
unsung heroes of Royal cricket could lay their ghosts to rest. House cricket
hosted many great tactical battles and psychological warfare, encouraged
sportsmanship amidst dour struggles, and produced many great cricketing
moments. In the ultimate analysis, events at the Royal Thomian. first XI,
second XI and house cricket, were interwoven and inseparable.
Overlapping loyalties
My loyalty to Royal College was
never tested on a daily basis for obvious reasons. However, my classmates
were divided into opposing camps based on who one supported in test cricket
(England or Australia), the school house one belonged to, and the pop
singer(s) (Elvis, Cliff, Jim Reeves, Beatles etc) one identified with. About
three-quarters of my cricket loving acquaintances were English supporters,
and an identical proportion belonged to houses (Hartley, Harward and Marsh)
other than Boake.
However, Australia did not lose a
test series to England between me becoming an Australian cricket supporter
(in 1958) and leaving school, so my allegiance was never really tested.
Hence Boake house became the source of my school identity. 1 would say that
other than when Royal played St. Thomas' at cricket or Trinity at rugby, I
was emotionally more of a Boakite than a Royalist.
Wheres St. Thomas' was the fixed
foe in cricket, Boake's rivals came from three sources. And where as I
perceived individual Thomian cricketers not in individual terms but as
representing the larger abstraction, the traditional enemy, there was a
greater personal element in house cricket rivalry. One confronted Thomian
cricketers for only two days of the year. One's opponents in house cricket
were those with whom one interacted on a daily basis.
A Boake house partisan
Some of my greatest cricketing
moments have been associated with Boake House. In 1961 when Velupillai, a
Boake legend, led Boake to victory, I was a reserve, and was exposed for the
first time to team sport solidarity. In the following year, with me now a
member of the team, we repeated our success. In 1965 I took practice and was
delighted when Boake beat Harward (with Nirmal Hettiaratchy) in the under
XIV final after conceding a first innings lead. Sunimal Yapa, who was to
capture the winning wicket in the 1969 big match, scored an unbeaten 70 odd
in the second innings when Boake were chasing about 140 to win.
My greatest triumph as a Boakite
was when Boake, devoid of a single coloursman, beat the much more fancied
Hartley and Harward, sides studded with coloursmen, to take the Bawa Bowl
for first XI cricket in 1966. However, the source of a string of events
which culminated in Boake's triumph was the Thomian win of 1964. Truly, the
manner in which the Royal Thomian unfolded had an impact at the lower levels
of the game at Royal.
The Thomian win of 1964
In 1964 and 1965 St. Thomas' had
the strongest teams in the history of Sri Lankan school cricket, and Royal
responded by picking teams to save rather than win games. And the greatest
victims of Thomian ascendance were Jana Wickremasinghe and Chandra
Abeywickrema (Corky), the latter who turned in great performances at the
junior levels, and at the nets. In 1964, following a nine wicket loss to St.
Benedicts, Royal went for batsmen who could bowl a bit. After Royal's loss
to STC in the same year, this selection principle was extended to batsmen
who
could keep wickets a bit.
Samerajeeva bowled a mere 12 overs in three Royal -Thomians, and wasn't
bowled at all in 1965. However, he almost single-handedly salvaged a draw in
1964 with some dogged batting, and if he had succeeded, he would have
improved Abeywickrema's chances in 1965, with loading the team with batsmen
less of a priority.
If anyone is in doubt that Corky
is the great unsung hero of Royal cricket, consider this. He opened the
bowling with Thalayasingham in the under 16 college team, and took twice as
many wickets on a regular basis, including 6 wickets for 4 runs against St.
Joseph's at Darley Road. He also took 3 wickets in 5 balls without conceding
a run under terrific pressure against Piliyandala MMV to save Royal A from
certain defeat. He also took more Thomian wickets than any other bowler of
his time - 7 for 47 (Under XIV at Mt.Lavinia), 5 for 20 (under XVI at Reid
Avenue), and 6 for 26 (second XI at Mt.Lavinia), and 3 wickets at Reid
Avenue. Many of his victims were batsmen who made their mark in the Royal -Thomian.
This is an impressive record although achieved mainly on matting wickets.
Corky ascendant
In 1966 Corky was not considered
for selection, as coloursmen were rarely replaced, and he was made captain
of the A Team/second XI. However, he did not take that many wickets as he
under bowled himself. The hunger was not there until he captained Boake
against teams studded with coloursmen. He had an extra motive to win those
house matches because he knew the Master in charge was watching, and in his
mind the Hartley and Harward teams were the Master in charge's teams.
Boake humiliated Hartley, which
had players of the calibre of L. Thalayasingham, R. R Liyanage. Skandakumar.
S.J. de Silva (1967 cricket captain), and B.N.R. Mendis. by beating them by
an innings. It was widely believed that Harward would teach us a lesson in
the final, after making a meal of Marsh who could only manage 12 (Chitty
taking 8 wickets for 1, and Samarajeeva 2 for 10). but we still prevailed
over them in a hard fought final. Harward had the likes of W.A.J.
Wimaladharma, L.A.D. Sirisena, A.M. Samerajeeva. Ranjit Gunasekera (1968
cricket captain), Jayantha Kudahetty, and Chris Chitty. Although it is
correct to
say that bespectacled Corky was
the finest swing bowler never to gain Royal colours, in whose absence we
would never have had the edge over our superior opponents, Corky would be
the first to admit that the camaraderie that existed in the side inspired
him to produce his best.
The triumph of the underdog
On paper, Boake were fairly
ordinary, but we won the psychological war, supported each other on the
field, took magnificent catches, and timed our contributions in such a
manner that the whole became greater than the sum of its component parts.
Prior to the match we taunted Hartley's "big guns", hinting at "secret
weapons" which could turn the tide in our favour, and alluding to the
ignominy of losing with so many coloursmen.
Truly, I have never experienced
such team spirit or for that matter contributed so much to it. The more
experienced players spread themselves around the field and took turns in
encouraging and inspiring our less experienced bowlers. Those five days of
cricket were the hardest I've ever experienced, and the most rewarding. As a
result, I left school in 1966 a happy man.
In other winning sides I have been
in, we had specialist cricketers. However, in this Boake side we had
ringings from other sports, most notably, Firoz Nilam from table tennis and
Bryan Baptist from rugby. Firoz had already confounded the purists in the
1965 game against Hartley, by scoring freely with a technical synthesis of
batting orthodoxy and skills brought across from the world of backhand
slices and topspin lobs. After being hit for successive boundaries the burly
R.R Liyanage threw the ball at his captain in frustration at having to bowl
to someone who did not observe the conventional rules of batting. In
addition to Firoz, we had another psychological weapon in Bryan who we
discovered could hurl the ball at an impressive pace. So we converted him
into a shock bowler overnight. What a loose and lethal cannon he turned out
to be, although we had to nurse and cajole him to prevent his deliveries
from injuring our own fieldsmen.
A surreal sight
Jayendran, the youngest brother of
Royal and Hartley captain, who observed the unfolding of the drama from the
sidelines, claims to have seen nothing like it in cricket. He recalls a
scene, best described as surreal, in which the school's cricketing royalty,
his heroes and kin, was made to look very ordinary by a very ordinary side.
He looked on with utter disbelief as, in his words; the elite forces of
Hartley were humbled by a bunch of amateurs. The elation and despair felt by
the players, depending on which side one was on, was accompanied by a
similar sense of disbelief.
Hartley collapsed in a heap on the
afternoon of the 19th but had clawed their way back by close, limiting
Boake's lead to 39 with only two wickets in hand. But nobody, including the
Boake players, anticipated Boake's spirited tail-end rally led by Firoz
Nilam and Upali Suraweera that stretched our lead to 113. Firoz made up for
his lack of footwork with a keen eye, sharp reflexes, and a sense of
placement which was at odds with the line and length of the ball. Just when
a bowler felt that his defences had been penetrated, the ball would fly to a
part of the ground that was least protected. Royal's best were made to look
silly trying to outguess the country's table-tennis champ who himself had to
second guess his own instincts. However, the results were devastating, and
on the numerous occasions he lifted B.N.R. Mendis to the gym, our surprise
turned quickly to elation as we sensed the psychological momentum of the
game moving inexorably in our favour.
A fortnight later, in a low
scoring final, our first innings lead of 51 runs was a sufficient buffer
against a Harward fight back. and the modest target of 108 for victory was
way beyond Harward's range against the wizardry and ascendancy of Corky and
the two "Briyyas" (Lieversz and Baptist). Although Harward gave it all they
had. our morale and team work was superior. Corky farewelled his school with
his second seven wicket haul for the tourney. Anketell (who along with Nigel
de Kretzer was the best left-handed batsman of my generation) kept Chitty at
bay, with a score of 30 to 40 in the first innings. Although Harward clawed
back in the second innings, our first innings lead was an insurmountable
buffer. Many of those who shone in these two house games were veterans of
the second XI circuit.
The second XI
I am most familiar with second XI
and "A' team cricket in the period from October 1964 to February 1967. A
combination of strong first XI sides, an unprecedented enthusiasm for the
game and an abundance of cricketing talent in school, meant that two second
string teams were required to accommodate the overflow, despite the high
attrition resulting from the GCE "0" level barrier. The sixties were a time
when almost everyone in school wished to either represent the school or
house in cricket, even as scorer. This resulted in an embarrassment of
riches for the selectors. We could have produced sides to stretch many a
school first XI side with the talent we carried. Some of the players went on
to get colours, the majority didn't achieve honours befitting their talent.
However, because of the idiosyncrasies and skills of the second stringers,
and the many characters who passed through, not to mention the variety of
settings the games were played against, I retain vivid memories of those
times.
I can still picture Skandakumar
launching on request, into stirring renditions of "Return to Sender" while
strumming the imaginary strings of a bat. And as sure as night follows day,
R.J. de Silva, the Arjuna Ranatunge of the sixties, never failed to feign a
cramp on reaching fifty. This habit backfired on him on 8th February 1967
when we put on a hundred tor the first wicket against Dharmarajah at the
Health Sports Club grounds. Metha Abeygunawardene replaced R.J. at the
crease after the latter was carried off the field. Both not out batsmen at
the crease, obtained colours about a month later. And the scene at the
second XI Royal -Thomian of 1966, played on the Reid Avenue mat, where both
R.J. de Silva and Rama Sellamutta magnanimously shouted "yours" to a ball
which popped up high between them, is indelibly etched in my memory.
Many of the games played by the
"A" team were against less prestigious outstation schools which took us to
rural or suburban venues as diverse as Chilaw, Negombo, Wattala, Piliyandala,
Panadura, Moratuwa, Kotte, Ibbagamuwa and Kandy. The cricket ground at
Dharmarajah College must have been perched at the highest point in Kandy and
was reached through a long uphill climb followed by 152 steps. Of all the
grounds
The second XI
I am most familiar with second XI
and "A' team cricket in the period from October 1964 to February 1967. A
combination of strong first XI sides, an unprecedented enthusiasm for the
game and an abundance of cricketing talent in school, meant that two second
string teams were required to accommodate the overflow, despite the high
attrition resulting from the GCE "0" level barrier. The sixties were a time
when almost everyone in school wished to either represent the school or
house in cricket, even as scorer. This resulted in an embarrassment of
riches for the selectors. We could have produced sides to stretch many a
school first XI side with the talent we carried. Some of the players went on
to get colours, the majority didn't achieve honours befitting their talent.
However, because of the idiosyncrasies and skills of the second stringers,
and the many characters who passed through, not to mention the variety of
settings the games were played against, I retain vivid memories of those
times.
I can still picture Skandakumar
launching on request, into stirring renditions of "Return to Sender" while
strumming the imaginary strings of a bat. And as sure as night follows day,
R.J. de Silva, the Arjuna Ranatunge of the sixties, never failed to feign a
cramp on reaching fifty. This habit backfired on him on 8th February 1967
when we put on a hundred tor the first wicket against Dharmarajah at the
Health Sports Club grounds. Metha Abeygunawardene replaced R.J. at the
crease after the latter was carried off the field. Both not out batsmen at
the crease, obtained colours about a month later. And the scene at the
second XI Royal -Thomian of 1966, played on the Reid Avenue mat, where both
R.J. de Silva and Rama Sellamutta magnanimously shouted "yours" to a ball
which popped up high between them, is indelibly etched in my memory.
Many of the games played by the
"A" team were against less prestigious outstation schools which took us to
rural or suburban venues as diverse as Chilaw, Negombo, Wattala, Piliyandala,
Panadura, Moratuwa, Kotte, Ibbagamuwa and Kandy. The cricket ground at
Dharmarajah College must have been perched at the highest point in Kandy and
was reached through a long uphill climb followed by 152 steps. Of all the
grounds
commentary and scholarships
afforded to rural students. In 19801 came across a game of cricket being
played on the fallow paddy terraces of Maspanne hamlet (a fairly remote
village west of the Uma Oya in Upper Badulla). The organiser of the game
explained in English that he had learnt the game at Royal where he was
enrolled.
In the sixties, it was the "A"
team that first introduced me to the poorer segments of the country and made
me less won't to take my privileges for granted. The enthusiasm and
hospitality shown by our opponents, whose equipment and facilities were
decidedly inferior to ours, was an extremely humbling experience. And
despite our poor Sinhalese we had to conduct ourselves in a manner befitting
ambassadors for our school. However, on the field we played a ruthless game,
as a good performance could catapult players into the first XI. S.J. de
Silva, R.L. Wijeytilaka, and Skandakumar. were those who left us for bigger
things in 1964-5. Cricketers from rural schools paid the price for the
competitiveness among Royalists seeking colours.
Off field humour
These seasons were full of the
sort of on and off-field incidents that make cricket so unique. Although
many of us skillfully avoided catches, there was no avoiding John de Saram's
droll asides. Once at the practice turf the ball was hit over the fence and
landed on the University woodwork shed, amidst the shavings. Mr de Saram
likened the crunching sound made by the big built Anil "Jumbo" Fernando and
Rama Sellamuuttu as they trampled underfoot and sank rapidly into the
shavings, to "Elephants in a dry-zone jungle". I was first alerted to the
remark when Skandakumar virtually split himself in laughter. Then Brian
Lieversz burst into a loud guffaw, and the joke had a snowballing effect as
it went down the line. He later likened Rama Sellamuttu's lumbering gait to
an "Old goods train". These gems were all the more effective because, due to
his reticent nature, we weren't even sure that he took in such scenes.
In the Josephian encounter
described above, S.R Sellayah volunteered to open the batting, asserting in
a semi pompous manner, that he "wished to gain some valuable experience". On
his return to the shed after failing to trouble the scorers, Mr. de Saram
could barely stifle a
chuckle when he cynically remarked
"Well Sellayah, it looks like you |;-s8
obtained some valuable experience
after all".
Toeing the line
Mr. de Saram's sense of reserve
held him in good stead. When anger occasionally overcame his unflappable
demeanor it came as such a
surprise that we were all taken
aback. However, his sarcasm, which I was occasionally at the receiving end
of in the context of cricket, was his Cricket at its finest
Abeywickrema knew very well that
Boake's only chance was for her two pacemen to be supported by brilliant
fielding. Throughout the final thehonours were on the opposing batsmen to
take risks against tight bowling. For the most part Abeywickrema employed a
leg trap to his traditional in swinger to the right hander. Glancing and
working the ball to leg was therefore fraught with risk. One batsman was
caught at fine leg slip. However, a batsman of the calibre of Kudahetty had
to be countered by leg cutters. Abeywickrema skillfully changed the degree
of turn to force the batsman to over adjust and produce an inside edge.
Kudahetty said "Very well bowled Abey" in recognition of a great piece of
cricket, which also sealed the game in Boake's favour. Such a concerted
effort by bowlers to turn the screws on batsmen, and unremitting struggles
between bat and ball, was equal to what prevailed at the higher levels of
school cricket.
The lesser lights made a
difference
Many of the memorable house and
second XI games described took place on the matting wicket. This is where
many of us first experienced the smell of linseed and freshly mown grass,
the ritual of taking guard and chalking one's crease, and the thrill of
playing to one's first mass audience. Such dramas were presided over by
groundsman Noor who was an ubiquitous presence. Noor died tragically in the
mid seventies and took along with him some unique memories.
Royal's cricketing finest, those
who made their mark in the Royal -Thomian, and also at the international
level, gained their first exposure
to the rituals and romance of
structured cricket, on the humble mat by the gym. However, John de Saram is
equally proud of those of his charges who made their mark across a wide
range of professions, indicating that cricket, at whatever level, was, if
nothing else, a character builder. By the same token, even those who made a
name for themselves only after leaving school, would nonetheless look back
on their involvement in house and second XI cricket with nostalgia and
pride.
This article is dedicated to all
those Royalists who kept cricket alive, and enriched it, at the school in
the sixties, through their participation in house and second XI cricket, or
by turning up en masse for house cricket practice. Their enthusiasm created
an atmosphere which brought out the best in players destined for stardom. It
was a privilege to play with or against them, to watch or instruct them, or
simply discuss cricket with them. I regret in not being able to specify
every one of them by name.
Eardley Lieversz
Boake House First XI (that played
Hartley, game commencing at 3.00 pm on Monday, 19th September, 1966) (Monday
was the equivalent of Friday because the weekend was determined by Poya)
C. Abeywickrema (Captain), E.C.L.
Lieversz, N.B.L. Lieversz, A.V. Tennekoon, R.S.I. de Silva, A.U.C. Suraweera,
F Nilam, S. Anketell, C.A.R Samarasekera, R.G.M. de Silva, B.L. Baptist 12th
Man: R.S.R. Gunawardene Reserves: S.H. Mohammed, A.K. Sameer
SCORE CARD
Boake versus Hartley, 19 -
20/9/1966 (Monday and Tuesday)
End of day 1 - Hartley 63 (N.B.L.
Lieversz 8-28), Boake 102 for 8 wickets
End of day 2 - Boake 176 all out
(R Nilam 64 n.o.), Hartley 96 (C. Abeywickrema 7-45)
Result: Boake beat Hartley by an
innings and 17 runs
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