Bowled over by life lessons learnt

West Indies batsman Devon Smith, center, ducks a bouncer from South Africa bowler Morne Morkel, on the third day of their 1st cricket test match at Centurion Park in Pretoria, South Africa, Friday, Dec. 19, 2014. (AP Photo/Themba Hadebe)

West Indies batsman Devon Smith, center, ducks a bouncer from South Africa bowler Morne Morkel, on the third day of their 1st cricket test match at Centurion Park in Pretoria, South Africa, Friday, Dec. 19, 2014. (AP Photo/Themba Hadebe)

Published Dec 19, 2014

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Cricket is a profoundly strange game. On a recent tour to George, my 14-year-old son played several games – which typically lasted about six hours.

In one game, he was due to bat eighth. The opposing team only took five wickets, so my son didn’t bat (despite being “padded up” for about half an hour, sweltering on the sidelines in full body armour, sweat pouring off him like an explorer in an Amazonian rainforest – only to take it all off again, without facing a ball).

Later, as the side’s sixth bowler, he didn’t bowl a ball – the top five took care of the 40 overs. So my son fielded, in the blinding heat – crossing sides of the field every six balls, to watch, and wait, yet again. Now that’s a profoundly weird way to spend six hours.

But so many play this game still. And the reason?

The impact of competition, of contest, of the thrill of combat. The captivating drama unfolding around that little red ball.

One of the best-ever descriptions of cricket is told by Professor Tim Noakes in 2012, describing Gary Kirsten’s role as opening batsman.

“Gary was an opening batsman in an era of cricket when hostile fast bowling had become an acceptable, indeed crucial weapon for any world-class team. To succeed, a cricketer had first to overcome fear – a very real fear of injury inflicted by a ball released less than 20 metres away and travelling at up to 150km/h. At that speed a blow to the chest or neck can produce fatal results…

“According to Gary, defending your person would be easy if it were not necessary to defend your wicket. The opening batsman thus has a simple choice: to give priority to either his personal safety or to his wicket. The international cricketer chooses the latter, and with each delivery he has less than 400 milliseconds after the ball leaves the bowler’s hand to gather his courage and enact his choice.”

As if staying alive, and in, were not enough, “The opening batsman must also score runs.”

While performing these three non-negotiable tasks, “the opening batsman must contend with the opposition’s best bowlers, with all the conditions in their favour, including a hard, shiny ball that will swing, bounce and seam, at the very time when his own reactions are not yet finely tuned…”

Noakes concluded: “It is an unusual person who would choose such a calling...”

Indeed. But: the first word in journalism is “show, don’t tell”. And so, too, with parenting.

And so, as next year looms: in the handful of days off after Christmas, to prepare my son for 2015’s challenges, I will not lecture him on “The Three Cs” he’ll require: Commitment. Camaraderie. Courage.

Instead, I will simply bowl to him. I may even be brave enough to face him.

I’ll let the ball do the teaching.

** The views expressed here are not necessarily those of Independent Media.

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