Dickie Bird. David Shepherd. Steve Bucknor. Billy Bowden. The
names of all great umpires are familiar to all cricket fans, but
no-one really wants to take their place. We'd all love to hit a six
like Freddie or spin the ball like Warne, but the job of signalling
fours, raising the finger or holding players' jumpers doesn't tickle
most of us. The umpire can't win; if he does a great job, no-one
notices, but the first sniff of a poor decision and Hawkeye is all
over him. All he can do is quietly and impartially arbitrate as best
he can. The glory is for other occupants of the field.

So I was probably a little overenthusiastic, or a little too much into
the game, when I signed up for the umpiring course in the autumn. The
Association of Cricket Umpires and Scorers organises various courses
up and down the country to prepare old and new umpires for the coming
season, and I gladly parted with my £10 to join their ranks. After
the ten week course, I scored 57 out of 60 in my exam, and was
promptly offered an occasional job to umpire for one of our local
clubs. The promise of a small amount of cash, a large tea and a beer
afterwards proved too much of a lure.

The appointed day was last Saturday, when I made my umpiring debut at
home against the local rivals. Having spent most of the previous week
lying in bed with Tom Smith's New Cricket Umpiring and Scoring
until the large hours, I felt well prepared. My clothes were crisply
ironed (though I had been unable to find a pair of suitably white
shoes) and my satchel contained all the things they say you should
bring – rag for drying ball, heavy bails in case of wind, large hat,
that sort of thing – and I was at the ground in plenty of time. I
asked around the club cheerfully if the home captain was there, but
was told he didn't normally turn up until half an hour before the
start – in fact, they'd be surprised if any of the players did at all.
Oh well, we are on Devon time, after all, I thought.

Fortunately, my colleague arrived just as I was getting bored of
watching the lads lay out the boundary rope (disappointingly blue).
We changed and chatted and he clearly disapproved of my satchel
(which I dispensed with) and my brown shoes (for which I had no
alternative). I got a little twitchy around the time of the toss, but
he told me they'd probably organise it themselves and just let us know
who was going to bat first. Damn. I had great visions of the two of
us leading the captains to the pitch for the toss, after which the
winning captain would make a final assessment of its condition and
announce his decision. No such drama.

In fact, there wasn't much drama in the whole of the first innings.
My colleague took the first over, easing me in gently, and I had
barely a decision to make in the whole of the home side's innings.
Just two no-balls and a moment of minor panic when I forgot what guard
position one was. With about forty overs gone, I had to adjudicate on
a close Run out, but I had got myself into a very good position and
could clearly see that the batsman had failed to make his ground,
despite the fielders fumbling all over to give him the best chance
possible. The home team were bowled out for 187 with four overs to
bowl.

We had a cracking tea, with a good four scones per person if not more,
and took the field for the away team's innings. The bowler opening at
my end, who had been the unlucky batsman Run out, commented that it
must have been a close call in a tone that suggested he wasn't
entirely happy, and we got on with the game.

The home team, who had appointed me, were a completely different
bowling attack. Instead of setting a defensive field and bowling on
or outside the off stump, they wanted wickets. They bowled straight,
wicket-to-wicket to the left-handers, and just short of a length, top
of off stump at the right-handers.

My god, I got all the decisions. It's very hard to give lbw against
left-handers when the bowler is bowling right arm over, but the bowler
at my end really was bowling almost wicket-to-wicket, and there was
enough movement off the pitch to make either lbw or a nick to slip
very possible. I'd already turned down a very good lbw shout against
one of the openers, as the ball had just scraped his bat, but later in
the third over he was plumb. A straightening ball, pitching on
middle, that was going on to hit middle. He was dead in the water; I
promptly raised my finger and off he went.

The following over, another good ball aimed at the pads was flicked on
by the new batsman, the noise indicated a nick and the wicketkeeper
flew over to take a fine catch. The batsman almost walked, I felt it
was good, and again up went the finger. The problem was, the away
team's vice-captain, backing up at the other end, hadn't heard a nick
and began cursing and shaking his head. If I had known what was to
come, I'd have asked my colleague if the batsman had definitely hit
the ball as I was only 75% sure – but I didn't know what was to
come.

The new guy was a lad of only 15, and I'd already turned down a very
good appeal (just going down leg) when he got another damn good ball
that I could not refuse. Just because the batsmen feel you've made
one bad decision, you shouldn't try to balance it by making another
bad one, so the wisdom goes. Pitching on middle, hitting middle –
out. More grumbling and protests from the vice-captain. The
atmosphere wasn't good, and only got worse when the new batsman got
hit on the toe in front of middle-and-leg, leaving the away side
10-4.

Fortunately, that was the last decision I had to make – one of the
home team, C, even had the gall to appeal in a jocular way against
grumpy vice-captain when he clearly wasn't out, seemingly to restore
my credibility and lighten the mood! The away side put together a
couple of good partnerships, but were bowled out 100 short of their
target.

Now here's where cricket differs from all other sports. After we took
the bails and made our back to the pavilion, all the members of the
losing team (except the skipper and his deputy) lined up on the
outfield and, though clearly upset, shook my hand and thanked me for
umpiring their game. I was delighted and heartened to find that
sportsmanship and knowing how to lose well still prevail in some
corners of the world.

I sought out the away team's cursing vice-captain after the game,
shook his hand and briefly told him that I was sorry he didn't agree
with some of my decisions, but that I genuinely and impartially gave
everything just as I saw it. He told me he didn't want to say
anything, but I felt I'd done my bit and, in a way, accepted that I
could be as fallible as anyone. I chatted to C afterwards and he told
me that he felt players should take the rough with the smooth; some
days you get 'em, some you don't – you may not agree with everything,
but part of cricket is being able to accept it either way in a
gentlemanly way, and 'no umpires, no cricket'. I may be biased, but
was very happy to hear this assessment of events.

Still, I may not be invited to officiate in the return fixture...

The Absolutely Plumb Archive

Skankyrich

01.06.06 Front Page

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