Dear Morgensternchen: A Survival Guide to Cricket

Dear Morgensternchen,

Got a minute? Or Malkreis?

Thank you for your lovely letter or painting actually. I love the colours.

I do agree as you said in your letter, if you type cricket for beginners into a search engine the vast amount of “ins” and “outs” and “overs” is not to be understood.

The fact that you now have to go and watch a school cricket match is however completely self-inflicted: You had to become a godmother of an English boy. Didn’t you. Tough! I told you so! You have been warned!

But in time of need, what are friends for!?

If to you, the concept of cricket is as alien as it was to me, here is the ultimate guide to how to survive school cricket. Of course one could argue, don’t go at all, but that would probably terribly upset the offspring. So given that there is no real alternative, one has to face the enemy.

There is a way of survival. First pretend that this is your very first cricket match. People can talk for hours on end about it; very handy considering you’ll be there for while. They will appreciate that you are fantastic listener and share their views happily with you, not noticing that you don’t say a word.

When that little stick falls of those other longer sticks (you’ll see what I mean, when you are actually there) that is your only chance as a spectator to swing into action. Clapp franticly, since this is your one moment to move for at least hours. But be careful check if other parents YOU KNOW are doing the clapping bit. You may be cheering for the wrong team.

If you don’t recognise any of the other parents check:

First if your boy is actually on that playing field. You may have gone to the wrong school fields. If so, leave the group quietly and go in search for the right field.
Secondly “Are our sons in the same class/ school or in the parallel class/ school?” helps to establish if you are on the right side of the pitch. It is a bit tricky since they are all dressed in white and look pretty much the same. You could buy your boy one of these silly cricket hats. They don’t seem to mind wearing them. That gives you a little marker.

Now, back to the rules. The little person throwing and the little person catching are of the same team, not the little people with the bat. After halftime they swop around just to add to the confusion. The rest of team hangs around until they have to catch a ball, not without the little people in the middle then running hectically back and forth should a cricket ball been batted and airborne. This is why the scores are called runs. Although the runs seem to be the thing to do, there is little of it. Don’t worry about it touching and bouncing of that ball. There are more rules, but they don’t seem to be terribly important.

Another approach is to position yourself next to the headmaster’s wife or any person of equally high authority. Copy whatever the headmaster’s wife is doing. It may in the beginning be a bit irritating for her and you may be called all sorts of things. Trust me in the long run though the phrases you collect this way can be lifesaving. So stick to her. Try to pick up as many phrases as you can. A “Did we already do fours or sixes?” shows the distinguished cricket expert. A jolly “Where is the Pimm’s?” always loosens up the watching crowed. Unfortunately Pimm’s is actually never served at school matches, which is a real shame.

Now the golden rule of rules:
Try to look like everybody else around you. You know, that aura of “a hint of sophisticated arrogance” comes from the fear that someone could detect, that they haven’t got a clue what cricket is about.

Which I believe is the bottom line of cricket:

Nobody actually knows the rules... So really: make up some rules as you go along and in no time you will be “commentating at the Oval”. That seems to be a sacred circket palce of some kind. The good news is: they do serve Pimm's there, so I heard.

There is hope. Good luck.

I’m awaiting mission report soon.
Lots of love
Yours faithfully

The one M