HOW THE RTM GOT INTO MY DNA
One of the first words I heard after 'milk' in
the cradle was 'Royal'. The second -S. Thomas' In some infantile
way I knew that the first signified the allys, the- second the
enemy. No peace talks in those days just after WW II.
A year or two older I remember, my father coming
home all hot and tired, sometimes excited, sometimes downcast. He
would then pick me up and show me a beautiful ornament he wore on
his dark blue coat. It was worked in gold. I had no idea what it
was, but 1 recognized the difference between the blue/gold coat and
the coats he wore on ordinary days. He would point to the crest on
his dark blue coat and say something like, well! crest, then there
would be lots of talking over the dinner table. The thing is there
was no opposition. So everyone was saying almost the same thing at
the same time.
That was how the Royal-Thomian Match (RTM) got
into my DNA.
It may have been when I was about five years old,
that I went to my first RTM. I don't know where it was being played
but I remember my father saying something about SSC.
There were hundreds of people at the SSC carrying
Blue/Gold and Blue / Black flags
It was the first time I
saw the Thomian Hag and I didn't like the black in it. It made me
feel we were among people who were different from us. Spot-on
assessment, someone said, when in my child's body language 1 got the
impression across loud and clear To make matters worse, there was a
picture in one of my father's books of 15th century pirates storming
a passenger vessel. They wore leggings patterned in diamond shapes.
There was a blue/black flag on the grounds with black and blue
diamond patterns and it reminded
me of the pirates' socks,
so I naturally thought we were among
disreputable!
It was not until I started going to school that I
really began enjoying going to the match. But most enjoyable of all
was going to school on the first day of the match, on Friday.
A third-generation 'Royal', there were several
other 'royals' in class at Bishop's, whose fathers had been together
in the same class. With my father was F.C W. Van Geyzel, whose
younger daughter Mary was with me. Douglas Raffel, the writer and
painter was also with my father in the same class. His youngest
daughter Susan was just one form below me. So we were able to make
up a Royal-Thomian team to play a mock Big Match on the netball
court on the day before the match-Thursday till 1978.
Even then, there was a certain togetherness
underlying the 'rivalry'. We knew we belonged together and that the
'others' didn't matter. Call it crass snobbery if you will; it was.
In those days it was a 2-dayer like any other inter-school match,
but no one was winning. Of course the RTM is not like any other
inter-school match, so when it came to the Centenary in 1978 the
powers that be decided that it had to be a 3-dayer to try to get a
decision. But history tells what happened to that unforgettable and
historic encounter when Royal snatched defeat from the jaws of
victory a finish that was nothing short of macabre as far as we
Royals were concerned. But more of that later.
Going to the match from school was a bit of a penance. The Bishop's
College boarders were OK - They went en bloc with teacher-chaperones
and what not. Day scholars like myself had to go with fathers!,
grand fathers, uncles etc, were heavily escorted and hemmed in. The
main thing was that the boys treated us like brats - which we were
and nothing was worse than that. Then the pulling out of spoons or
knives and forks, serviettes - sorry, napkins - water in bottles at
lunch time was another ordeal. Don't do this and don't do that. No
eating ice-cream from vendors; no eating anything that was not from
home. Baskets, flasks, what next?
But nothing could throw cold water on those
secret crushes you had on a particular person/persons, player or
otherwise A bad one was the one this writer had on G.L.W. Wijesinghe
the popular Thomian batsman in 1953 Horrified fathers and uncles:
"He's a Thomian!" You keep a straight face but soon you are flying
over the fence with the ball. S. Thomas was supposed to be the
brother school of Bishop's College because both because both revered
the Lord Bishop of Colombo's mitre. But my father used to pooh-pooh
this and say that the Thomians self-styled themselves as the brother
school of BC. No way.
Blushing and looking
thoroughly embarrassed, you were literally
'taken in hand' and led through the
crush of spectators to the family vehicle.
This writer particularly enjoyed the matches of
the mid '50' s. One reason then boyfriend, Old Royalist Para
Wimalaratne - now, sadly, deceased was a steward and spent almost
all of his time with us in the Royal visitors' tent. But we did
enjoy cricketers like Michael Wille - his father and mine were
classmates and Jothilingam who put on a magnificent stand for the
wicket. That was the year Dalton (Doppe) Rupasinghe climbed a pylon
- the match was at the then Oval -now P Saravanamuttu Stadium in the
lunch interval and had all eyes raised to High Heaven to watch
Doppe's cliff-hanging progress to the top of the electric tower to
plant the Royal Hag. A Thomian began following Doppe up the pylon.
but our Doppe gave him a tsunami shower bath from his point of
vantage and the Thomian descent began!
Times change and so the venue was changed in 1978
to the SSC grounds for the centenary. It was like coming home at the
SSC We all felt refreshed with so much greenery around and walking
distance to the Bullers Rd. bus halt and home.
By then, of course, many tsunamis had flowed
under the bridges of all our lives. School long ago left behind, it
was now the Press box as this writer had, opted for the Fourth
Estate. Furious rows with close colleagues and friends from the
other camp, big match fun even in the box. I shall never forget my
very dear friend & colleague Ian Jayasinha draped in blue & black,
rolling on the SSC turf in front of the Old Thomians Swimming Club
tent when it looked like Royal was going to clinch the Centenary.
Ian by that time had a tsunami of beer under his belt and it was his
highly original way of venting his frustration. The blue & gold
smoke bombs began to explode every where-and all eyes-except
Ian's-were on a nail-biting Ranjan Madugalle in field.
Then, the boy Mahinda Halangoda stood on the
burning deck and steered his ship out of troubled waters, Ian was up
in a trice and dancing Baila in his own imitable and catchy style.
But this writer felt more like Chopin's Marche Funebre than Baila !
The Thomians were on Cloud 9 One face-half comedy, half tragedy.
The Oval days were good fun and spanned childhood
to schoolgirlhood, the latter of course the more enjoyable. Nothing
stood in the way of going to the RTM. At one time it was a parade of
taxis and cars-no 3-wheelers then with Royal flags sticking out of
every window. Ice in flasks because the Oval was devilishly hot.
home-made sandwiches and Perera's muspan. Hot tea carted all the way
in flasks, but 'Hat' by teatime. No one thought of chilled beers
then, although the boys did.
What has happened to the lunch time and teatime
parades round the grounds? Of course the pappara bands were there
even then and thank God they are still pan and parcel of the whole
throbbing, pulsating carnival, but the parades are just not the
same. Some of the fire has gone out. It could be that the bitter
rivalry of those years described has given way to MoUs between these
two great rivals. Royalist men have married Thomian women and
Thomian men Royalist women, their progeny are torn between two
loyalties.
As this writer followed the grand procession of
the Lord Bishop of Colombo up the steps of the Chapel of the
Transfiguration, at S Thomas College, Mt. Lavinia, for their great
festival of Nine Lessons and Carols on 4 Dec. 2005, I didnt' know
which part of me was Royal and which Thomian. It is something of a
cultural phonemenon, a prismatic fusion of two unique thought
processes bound together now as one, in the tricolour ribbons of the
mustangs colours.
Floreat !
