"This, my son, is the Royal-Thomian match. But it's not as good
as it was in my day" Remininsces of Royal - Thomian Merry-making
in the 50s & 60s
Back at the Big
Match - In 2004, I took my 14-year-old Australian-born
son to the 125th Royal-Thomian Cricket Match in
Colombo. It was his first time ever at a Royal-Thomian. Having
heard that the match these days is not what it used to be where
merry-making or "honking" (as it was called in my day) was
concerned, and that some boys from Royal and STC did not even
bother to attend the match any more, I was not sure what to
expect at this milestone anniversary of the match. For years I
had been telling my son about this match and all the
merry-making that was part of it. Somehow I don't think I
managed to convey the essence o. that phrase "The Royal-Thomian."
How could I? Who but a Sri Lankan of that era could comprehend
the joy it was to be a Thomian or a Royalist on those two
magical days of the year; the feelings that phrase conjured up
then and does so even now! My son must have wondered what my
Old-Thomian mates and I were going on about - a mere school boy
cricket match! How could such a simple thing conjure up so much
emotion and excitement ? No doubt, to him, the only spectator at
a school cricket match would be the local pensioner walking his
dog past the ground who happens to watch for a minute or two
while the dog lifted its leg to a tree. So, when we finally made
our way to the SSC grounds I was pleased to see the masses of
people heading towards the venue and the long lines of pavement
hawkers selling everything from flags to masks which added a
festive air. The traffic jams and flustered policemen was
further evidence that it indeed was quite a big event.
Black Shirts &
the Baila Beat - We had quite a task finding our seats.
The differences from my day were already apparent. Whilst
walking outside the grounds from one side of the pavilion to
the other looking for our seats, the bajou music from the
bands in the various tents did get me back into the Royal-Thomian
mood. However, in spite of their modem electronic equipment and
amplifiers, they did not seem to be able to create that unified
beat the various "non electric" bands, including the "This, my
son, is the Royal-Thomian match. But it's not as good as it was
in my day" Remininsces of Royal - Thomian Merry-making in the
50s & 60s
Back at the Big
Match - In 2004, I took my 14-year-old Australian-born
son to the 125th Royal-Thomian Cricket Match in
Colombo. It was his first time ever at a Royal-Thomian. Having
heard that the match these days is not what it used to be where
merry-making or "honking" (as it was called in my day) was
concerned, and that some boys from Royal and STC did not even
bother to attend the match any more, I was not sure what to
expect at this milestone anniversary of the match. For years I
had been telling my son about this match and all the
merry-making that was part of it. Somehow I don't think I
managed to convey the essence o. that phrase "The Royal-Thomian."
How could I? Who but a Sri Lankan of that era could comprehend
the joy it was to be a Thomian or a Royalist on those two
magical days of the year; the feelings that phrase conjured up
then and does so even now! My son must have wondered what my
Old-Thomian mates and I were going on about - a mere school boy
cricket match! How could such a simple thing conjure up so much
emotion and excitement ? No doubt, to him, the only spectator at
a school cricket match would be the local pensioner walking his
dog past the ground who happens to watch for a minute or two
while the dog lifted its leg to a tree. So, when we finally made
our way to the SSC grounds I was pleased to see the masses of
people heading towards the venue and the long lines of pavement
hawkers selling everything from flags to masks which added a
festive air. The traffic jams and flustered policemen was
further evidence that it indeed was quite a big event.
Black Shirts &
the Baila Beat - We had quite a task finding our seats.
The differences from my day were already apparent. Whilst
walking outside the grounds from one side of the pavilion to
the other looking for our seats, the bajou music from the
bands in the various tents did get me back into the Royal-Thomian
mood. However, in spite of their modem electronic equipment and
amplifiers, they did not seem to be able to create that unified
beat the various "non electric" bands, including the "papare" or
funeral bands, managed to create in my day. In spite of this it
was nice to hear the catchy bai/a beat and saucy lyrics once
again. The most noticeable difference of course was the
veritable army of black-uniformed security guards who scowled
at you at every turn. None I spoke to had a clue as to how I
could find where our seats were. They just got rid of us by
grunting in any direction they pleased. In my day the only
security were the Prefects of both schools with not one other
security or police personnel inside the ground unless there was
real trouble. This security may be necessary today but surely
they could dress them in less-threatening civilian outfits and
teach them some basic people skills. To smile perhaps.
At the SSC -
Finally, a Thomian Prefect, resplendent in his full white
outfit, blue-black tie and straw hat, made inquiries on our
behalf and eventually guided us to our air-conditioned area. The
air-conditioning meant that we could not hear the nearby band.
We remained there only for the first day. Fortunately I had also
bought tickets to the area reserved for the ex-patriates from
Australia. This was not enclosed and allowed all the sights and
sounds of the match to be enjoyed without hindrance. We attended
for a few hours on all three days and I am sure my son was quite
tired of hearing me explain how things were so much better in my
day. Whilst what I saw was almost what 1 had expected, it was
somewhat of a disappointment. There were no half-drunk students
in clever outfits dancing around the ground to the
accompaniment of one or more funeral bands - the bandsmen
equally drunk, and there was no fighting. Only some half-hearted
attempts at high jinks with any excesses immediately pounced on
by the "black uniforms". Outside I did not notice any absurdly
decorated vehicles crammed with excited boys cruising the
streets or invading popular venues. Nevertheless, to my
Australian son it would still have been quite something to see
the massive crowd all around the ground, the flags, the bands,
the security and feel the excitement. To him it would have been
quite an event for a mere school boy cricket match !
You say Draw we
say Win - As I did for my son, for the benefit of
non-Lankan readers let me first try to briefly set the scene for
this amazing event with particular emphasis on how as it was in
"my day". In the fifties and sixties. The "Royal -Thomian" is
the annual cricket match between S. Thomas' College (STC), an
Anglican private school located at Mt Lavinia
a seaside outer suburb
of Colombo, and Royal College, the premier government school
located in the most salubrious suburb of Colombo. The match, was
originally played over two days (Friday-Saturday) but is now
played over three, beginning on a Thursday. Since it has been
played without a. break since 1879 through world wars and other
calamities, some believe it to be the longest continuously
played cricket encounter in the World. Literally volumes have
been written about the Royal-Thomian and copious statistics are
maintained. For example, lists of fathers and sons who have
played for each school and of course the records in batting,
bowling and fielding.
Adding to the charm
are the different version of the win/loss/draw records each
school maintains. This is because of the famous match in 1885
which STC counts as a win because they claim Royal did not turn
up on the second day after being all out for 9 on the first
which Royal asserts is a draw as they believe the match was
abandoned due to heavy rain overnight. To this day, long after
the lifetime of anyone alive at that time, historians still
research contemporary news and weather reports search of the
truth, once and for all. No doubt though, this dispute will go
on for as long as the match continues to be played.
The Battle of
the Blues - From very early in its history the match
took on a social significance somewhat akin to the
Cambridge-Oxford Boat Race or the Melbourne Cup but with the
addition of Sri Lankan exuberance. For the old boys of both
schools it was de rigueur to attend. All business and
professional matters were arranged around this. And this applied
also to the nation's lawmakers, many of whom, including
sometimes the Prime Minister, were old boys of one or the other
school. It was well known that parliament was curtailed on the
match days to enable parliamentarians to attend. It was (and
maybe still' is) traditional for the Prime Minister of the day
to attend at some stage during the match. For the women, it was
the place to be seen in their finest. To be fortunate enough to
obtain a ticket or an invitation to attend the match was indeed
a social coup of the highest calibre. Colombo took on a festive
air over the match weekend. The media euphemistically dubbed the
encounter "The Big Match" and "The Battle of the
Blues", the latter being a reflection of the college flags
- Blue Black and Blue of STC and Blue Gold
and
Blue of Royal.
It gave the cricket and the associated social events much
coverage with invariably a higher prominence than even a cricket
test match that may have been played at the same time in the
country. (This year it was a test against the Australians which
conveniently was at Galle a town 120 km from Colombo). Foreign
sports writers following these test tours have lamented that a
schoolboy match attracted a far larger crowd than the test
match. What do they know about the magic of the Royal-Thomian!
Enjoy -
As for the boys of both schools, it was an event awaited with
great excitement and anticipation. To be a member of the team
was almost to be a demi-god; little boys pestering for
autographs and reputed sports journalists called for interviews
and photographs. Pretty girls wanted to be your girlfriend
irrespective of what you looked like. Others, from juniors to
seniors, planned for months as to how they would celebrate the
event. What ridiculous clothes would they wear ? In whose
vehicle would they cruise the streets - half drunk and without a
care, waving flags, operating rattles and screaming out the
words to whatever foul limerick everyone else was trying to
sing whilst gulping down cheap alcohol in volumes that was
certainly not good for anyone let alone teenagers. In my time as
a student (1955-65) it was two days of exuberance but exuberance
that was good-natured and which respected the rights (at least
the basic rights) of others. The general public seemed to enjoy
the student high-jinks and the authorities generally turned a
blind eye to the excesses. Let me illustrate with some
reminisces from those days.
Back to the past
- Until the early sixties, Thomians had to attend school
for two periods on Friday. This was a pointless exercise as the
excitement was so palpable that concentration on school work was
near impossible. The distinctive sound of an ''old crock" - a
blend of an ancient car motor's throaty chug, the
continuous squeezing of its cheeky air horn, the ratting of
metal garbage bins being dragged behind, various musical
instruments and young voices singing as it passed by along
DeSaram or Hotel Road (which pass through the STC campus) added
to the excitement in the classrooms. These were young old boys
or seniors who had cut school to make an early start. Those who
took their Royal-Thomian merry-making seriously were known as
"honkers". Good honkers
were lionised for
their willingness to "play the fool" and their ability to cause
mayhem for the general pleasure of everyone on their side.
Old Crocks,
Trucks and Bands - The match then was played at the Oval
and how you travelled to and from the match was something that
was planned for months. The very young were either taken by
their par-'-ents or went in buses organised by the College. Upon
reaching senior status, it became a rite of passage to become a
"honker", at least for the big match, and this meant having the
appropriate means of transport. The vehicle to be really seen in
was an old crock until sometimes around the early sixties
when open trucks made their appearance, hired with a driver for
two days by groups of boys. As with the vintage cars, the trucks
were decorated with palm leaves, (sometimes even whole trees)
streamers, flags and an assortments of noisy contraptions tied
to ropes and trailing behind. The cost of hiring was partially
offset by carrying advertisements. Some trucks even had their
own hired papare or funeral bands. The boys, dressed in all
sorts of fancy attire, also brought along trumpets, drums and
other noise-making gadgets. The only victual inside the trucks
was alcohol. It was not long before boys and bandsmen-sometimes
even the drivers - were all quite intoxicated.
The Procession -
Again, it was in the early sixties that the processions started.
Word spread and on both days in the morning everyone going to
the match in any sort of vehicle assembled along Hotel Road near
the Mt Lavinia Hotel. It quickly became a long line of assorted
vehicles - normal cars, vintage cars, trucks and motorcycles -
all decorated to the hilt and crammed with excited honkers
making as much noise as possible. The many bands in the line-up
all playing a different tune added to the general cacophony.
Finally, the exciting moment when the self-appointed leaders
signalled the start and the procession was on its way. Old boys
on motorcycles with flag-bearers riding pillion acted as an
escort and raced up and down the line informing when the
procession would stop or turn. When turning, the motorbikes were
parked across the road blocking traffic until the entire
procession had completed the turn. Traffic police stood by
helplessly. They knew better than to interfere with hundreds of
semi intoxicated schoolboys. The procession would make its way
along Galle Road causing some traffic problems but generally
amusing pedestrians and motorists. Although crackers were
thrown on to the road no onlooker was
hurt. The only
casualty I can recall was a honker in a truck who was lighting
crackers with his cigarette in-between puffs and sipping from a
bottle of arrack. After a while, quite drunk, he lost track of
the order and threw his cigarette out and tried to puff at the
lit cracker. He was sobered with a bang. Fortunately he avoided
serious injury as the crackers were not very powerful.
Girls Lovely
Girls - On Friday, the procession stopped at all the
major girls schools along or adjoining the route. The first year
these schools were taken completely by surprise as hundreds of
excited boys clamboured over walls and gates and rushed all over
the place. Those sufficiently intoxicated to be brave, entered
classrooms and tried to k'ss the frightened teachers and dance
with them. The girls were beside themselves with excitement (or
so / have been told decades later by some of them). The
following year these schools organized police protection. But
there was nothing a few policemen could do to hold back the
onslaught. So, from . the year after, many of these schools were
given a holiday on the match Friday until other schools also
copied the idea and the police finally banned all "big match"
processions.
Homage at
Parliament - The procession next halted at the former
parliament at Galle Face. There was no fence then to prevent
hundreds of Thomians, many carrying flags and bottles of arrack,
surrounding the statues of two famous Old Thomian prime
ministers - D.S. Senanayake & S.W.R.D. Bandaranayake which grace
the front lawn. They sang the College song and danced around the
statutes which were adorned with college flags. Although these
leaders were dynamic in life, their bronze images remained
unmoved by our plaintive cajoling for them to climb down from
their pedestals and join the party. The law-makers of the day
however, were strirred to life and abandoning affairs-of-state
came outside to watch from the parliament steps. Old-Thomian
MPs, their chests bursting with pride, gleefully nudged their
Old-Royalist colleagues. What a simple world it was then! A
similar antic today would result in an army of heavily armed
security personnel rushing in, guns drawn to arrest the honkers.
Past the
Lion's Den - From the parliament the procession
headed for the oval detouring via Reid Avenue the home of Royal
College. It was not long before Royal also started a procession
of its own and I recall the Thomian procession vending its way
past the stationery Royal vehicles and stopping alongside, two
motley collection of vehicles on either side of the road. There
was no aggression of any sort. In fact there was a massive
joint baila dancing session in the middle of the road with much
drinking. Finally, bidding good-bye till we met at the Oval the
two processions went their different ways. One year, straight
from the parliament our procession went into Fort (then the
business district of Colombo) causing chaos in those narrow
streets. Somehow it made its way to the Times of Ceylon building
where it stopped and hundreds ofThomians hurled abuse at this
newspaper for having criticised their team. The windows of this
building quickly filled with the smiling faces of its employees
who seemed to enjoy this vociferous tongue lashing of their
masters as a welcome break from their dull routine.
The Oval at Last
- When the procession finally arrived at the Oval there was
an explosion of colour, sound and excitement as the blue-black
army streamed in and with bands playing and flags waving,
completed a round or two of the boundary before setting into
their respective tents. Present boys into the Thomian boys' tent
and old boys into the STC visitors tent. Then it was a matter of
drinking and baila dancing throughout the day with field
invasions at the fall of Royal wickets, more circuits of the
boundary in the intervals and if the cricket was boring a
cruise through Colombo's streets in the vehicles. There were
many incidents of interest in those years but space permits only
a few of these to be mentioned here.
The Coffin-
Although there was fighting at the match, this was mainly the
traditional settling of old scores between Thomians. Royalists
and Thomians got along very well and rarely fought. There,
however, was one famous "battle" in the very early sixties which
I heard about. Royal honkers brought a real coffin with "STC
RIP" painted on its sides with a "corpse" in the form of a
Royalist dressed in blue and black inside. To the accompaniment
of a funeral band playing a slow march they shouldered the
coffin with its "corpse" and started a mock funeral procession
around the boundary. Royal supporters in the pavilion and other
tents smiled as the cortege passed. Thomians, perhaps through
shock at being reminded of their mortality or more likely due to
their terror of their very-much-feared tent master - a large
no-nonsense disciplinarian - watched meekly as this humiliation
passed their tent. The Royalists, buoyed by this easy success,
started another circuit. Thomians again watched haplessly as the
"funeral" procession approached. Then as it drew level with
them, to their utter amazement the feared tent master yelled, "Thomians,
what are you waiting for!" (or words to that effect) and
personally led the charge. Stunned Thomians recovered quickly
and poured out of the tent and the battle was on in full view of
players and the thousands of other spectators. Finally, after
fighting valiantly, the Royalists and their band headed back to
their tents. But during the melee the poor "corpse" was
unceremoniously returned to earth where his mortal coil
re-ignited and he ran for his life as his coffin was
smashed to pieces.
Aerial Combat -
On another occasion in the late fifties match spectators were
stunned to see a figure, Royal flag in hand, climbing the
maintenance ladder of one of the nearby Radio Ceylon
transmission towers which stood several hundred feet high. They
had hardly got over the shock of noticing this when there was a
collective gasp and a flurry of finger-pointing as another
figure, this time with Thomian flag, also emerged on the tower
from above the Oval's roofline. Thousands watched their slow
progress - two little figures framed within the girders against
a clear blue sky. The Royalist reached the summit, affixed his
flag and started down. The two were now bound to meet and did on
one of the platforms high above the ground. The crowd watched
apprehensively. Would they fight? Would they be witnesses to a
tragedy ? Fortunately, to everyone's relief, the two after
conversing briefly continued on their respective ways. The
Thomian also affixed his flag on the summit and side by side,
two flags fluttered proudly in the breeze for the rest of the
match. Who were these intrepid characters? What did they talk
about so high in the sky?
The Charge of
the Fire Brigade - Again in the late fifties and late in
the evening, Thomian honkers, sozzled with alcohol, started a
fire inside their tent which was within the permanent structure
of the oval. As the fire grew, so did enthusiasm and more and
more fuel in the form of broken wooden chairs and other debris
was added until soon it was a raging bonfire. And the band
played on. The elderly bandsmen, eyeballs red with fatigue and
alcohol, hardly able to stand, kept belting out the favourites
as the drunken honkers, like heathens at a pagan ritual, sang
and danced the bai/a around the fire. When smoke billowed out
the fire brigade was summoned and watched by vociferous
hundreds, advanced with their hose. They hadn't reckoned with
Royal-Thomian merry-making for the honkers in turn advanced on
the firemen who wisely surrendered their hose and retreated as
the honkers played the water on everything but the fire. Next
to arrive was a police riot squad complete with helmets, batons
and wicker shields. As they advanced, to the delight of the
large and noisy crowd, the honkers turned the hose on the police
and kept them at bay. And the band played on until a senior
police officer with the threat of tear gas persuaded the honkers
to hand the hose back to the firemen who proceeded to douse the
fire.
Back to the
present - One of the magical moments for me at
the 125th match was after play on the final day when
we walked across the ground to the exclusive Mustangs Tent. I
had pointed it out to my son as where old honkers, who now
virtually run corporate Sri Lanka watched the match when they
were past active honking. Some people I knew invited us inside.
Although the match was over, everyone was still hanging about
and I met many of my STC contemporaries. Some I had been in
contact with on a regular basis since College days. But - much
to my son's surprise -many balding middle aged men with slightly
bulging waistlines (just like myself) confronted me with
quizzical smiles exclaiming "My God its Odath! How are you?"
followed by "Can't you recognize me?" I had no doubt they had
first checked who the stranger was. I looked hard for the
teenager that I would have known 40 years ago and in many cases
had to admit I was at a loss. With wicked delight, they enjoyed
my embarrassment till I was rescued by someone announcing who
the person was. This instantly released the skinny teenager I
once knew to emerge from within the rotund face and body.
Valiantly fending off many offers of expensive Scotch, I had a
great time animatedly talking about the old days and what we
were doing now. Occasionally I caught a bemused look on my son's
face. It would have indeed been strange for him a teenage to see
his father transcend time and behave like one too. The magic
of the Royal-Thomian
Esto Perpetua
Odath Weerasinghe
