The history of the UK and the US is one of closeness and familiarity. From Britain, America got the very foundations of its culture: its language, its legal system and “So You Think You Can Dance.” We’re also each other’s strongest allies. But as in any good relationship, there’s still a little mystery. For an American – this American, anyway – none of those mysteries is more impenetrable than cricket.
Before this week, the most cricket I’d seen was the game in last season’s “Downton Abbey.” I suspect Julian Fellowes knew that to his US audience, cricket would appear just as quaintly foreign as the idea of one’s butler being confounded by a newfangled toaster – and it’s the one thing in the show that hasn’t changed in 85 years. Some of the players still wear sweater vests.
I had a very good reason to attend my first match, though: a tour of LA by the cricket team of Taurus Squadron, a unit of the Defence Academy of the UK. Not unlike an ROTC class, they are university students (and their superiors) on track to become technical officers for the British Army, Royal Navy and Royal Air Force. So they are some of the best and brightest. The next wave of military men who will serve alongside American forces. And thankfully, when it comes to cricket, very patient in answering what must have sounded like the questions of a 5-year-old.
What I came away with was a basic understanding of the game, and a few other small insights I wish I’d known going in. Namely:
- When in doubt, just say the word “wicket” someplace. It means an “out”, and it’s the formation of sticks behind the batters. But the wicket is also the area between the wickets, where the batsmen hit and run (that’s where we get “sticky wicket,” which is when that strip of ground is wet or when you and your friend show up to the game wearing the same sweater vest).
- The action takes place in both directions. In baseball terms, it’s as though there were a batter at home plate and another one on second base. Oh, and there are no foul balls. You can hit the ball to the side, or directly behind you if you want. For the novice fan, this is a little like jaywalking on your first day in London – you know what to look for, but you don’t know which way to look.
- A batter might only get one swing for the entire game. One of the boys of Taurus Squadron swung and missed, and the ball clattered the stumps (wicket!) behind him. I knew this wasn’t good because I’d seen the same thing happen to Matthew Crawley’s butler. What I hadn’t appreciated then is there are no strikes two and three. That’s it. As one cricketer on the sidelines said, “You have to make the best of it while you’re out there.” Now if that’s not a metaphor for life…
- The “short” version of cricket lasts about three hours. Twenty20, as it’s called, may not sound brief, until you consider that the long version, which everyone at the office warned me about, lasts four days. All I could think was how you tailgate for something like that.
Trailing by a mere 132 runs, the team from Taurus Squadron won the game that day, which I didn’t realize until they walked off the field with smiles and didn’t go back out. “What just happened?” I asked.
So while the batsmen may only get one chance, I guess I’ll have to have another crack at cricket.