Anastasia Boyle is a French language teacher at Burnside High School and sister of former Canterbury cricketers, David and Justin Boyle
I was brought up in a cricketing family so you had to like it or lump it. But I loved the game from the start. My three brothers played cricket following in the footsteps of their father so the scene was set. Our house was littered with the paraphernalia of the game — bats, balls, thigh pads and pads with Mum trying to contain the spread by throwing gear into the respective ‘coffins’ which is not as morbid as it sounds but could have been.
Family bookshelves reveal a lot about a family; ours was full of cricketing biographies, Mozart and Shakespeare and maybe there is a connection in that musicians, writers and sports people all need time, patience, dedication, skill and passion to succeed in their craft.
Early memories of family holidays were travelling to Nelson to watch brother number one play for Canterbury and listening to the radio to hear he’d gone out for a duck, so Dad promptly turned the car around to head down to Alexandra to watch brother number two play. He hadn’t gone out yet and the bonus was eating luscious Roxburgh apricots in the sun while watching his exploits.
Practice makes perfect in any ‘field’ and the sound of the repetitive clunk of bat hitting ball in Mum’s pantyhose tied to the garage beam mirrored the scales and arpeggios practised on the piano, cello or violin. You can’t achieve the thrill of a century or the perfect score in a piano exam without hours of practice. So too the games in the drive at home encouraged the brothers to hit straight as Mum would go crook when her beloved roses were decapitated and the guilty parties would try to prop up the dying plant to hide the evidence.
Sunlight soap was a weekly staple to scrub stains from the cricket whites which I suppose showed commitment to fielding and the importance of an impeccably white kit, not that the players did much of the scrubbing but everyone played their part in the family team.
After scrubbing the whites, dinner was served. This was a sacred family time beginning with grace and often ending with a mass exodus to the living room to watch cricket on the TV. Mum and I were left in blessed peace to do the dishes. At least we’d finished cleaning the whites!
More prayers were said while listening on the radio at their away games and nerves were appeased by cleaning the windows. When we were able to watch the brothers play often we would hide in the car park for fear of jinxing them to go out.
As a first year teacher I had no choice but to coach a cricket team knowing our family background and this was one of the best ways to get to know the students out of the classroom along with directing musicals and playing with them in the orchestra. Some of my best memories as a teacher have been supporting students in extra-curricular activities. Such as coaching a young and inexperienced Villa Maria College 1st XI to the finals of the Yoplait Cup, the women’s equivalent of the Gillette Cup. Although underdogs we held our own and together exceeded expectations.
From the North Island I moved to France and trying to explain the game to a Frenchman by translating “bowling a maiden over” and telling him that the batsman was in when he was out in the middle, or that he was out when he was walking back in, met with many bemused looks. “Ah ... le baseball” was his answer. Near enough!
To keep it all in the family my future sister-in-law needed some serious educating in cricket so one summer we went to Nelson to watch her beloved play for Canterbury against Central Districts. She insisted upon buying a cooked chicken and some bubbles complete with a gingham tablecloth to spread on the grass. After many hours of educating her on googlies, wrong’uns, and the ever present maiden over a period of time I gave up explaining when she asked why the two men in white coats and black pants in the middle of the wicket were not moving around much. Needless to say the other sisters-in-law had no interest in the noble game but given the games allure, all three have a deepened understanding of cricket now. It must be love...
And so the cycle repeats and now our sons are playing cricket and we as parents are even more proud and nervous watching them play. One has benefitted from the Matfen Exchange offered by The Willows where he applied all the skills he had learned in life and importantly made friends for life and holds treasured memories of this time.
The youngest son is continuing his cricket career at secondary school and enjoys coaching tips from his older brother and uncles; it is really a family affair. As a cricketing mother the emotions are more intense, but the sunlight soap still works. I still hide in the car park and clean windows albeit more sporadically.
All our children have learnt numerous skills from their many sports, music, ballet, and other activities. It is so important to continue playing; to find the natural highs, to close the screens, to challenge yourself, to be selfless and to work together for the greater good of team and family.
Cricket. Oh well, it’s only a game — yeah right.
Anastasia Boyle’s cricketing family:
- Brother David Boyle, 69 matches for Canterbury
- Brother Justin Boyle, 35 matches for Canterbury and Wellington
- Nephew Jack Boyle, a current Canterbury player with 16 matches
- Nephew Matt Boyle, who scored a brilliant century at The Willows (19th January 2020)
- Son Callum Curnow, who holds the best ever Willows bowling figures of 8/21