The great thing about a sense of perspective is that there’s always more than one possibility.
When I was a First Eleven wicketkeeper in Wellington, I considered it not only an opportunity, but an obligation, that I should help all opposing batsmen, and the umpires, to be aware of their inadequacies and errors. This was achieved, naturally, through a non-stop running commentary throughout the innings.
Even when the umpires were of international standing (Bob Monteith and Ham Hart) I was brash enough to endeavour to help them improve their standard. Bob was relaxed about it all, Ham rather less so.
In later years, when I coached First Elevens in both Christchurch and Wellington, I flatly refused to allow my wicketkeeper to talk to the degree that I had as a player (and probably, in all truth, most of them wouldn’t have wanted to). By that stage I had well and truly learned that umpires, especially, are not only impervious to “helpful” suggestions but that they had a long memory, especially when it came to benefit of the doubt calls which strangely rarely fell our way.
Possibly a more positive cricketing memory is top-scoring for the St Pat’s Wellington First XI in a club game at the Basin Reserve. Admittedly, I only made 12 and the team was all out for 48 – but top score on the Basin is still top score and besides, we had a future NZ player in our ranks (Evan Gray) so we weren’t completely inept.
From my point of view, it was an innings of flashing strokes and determined resistance – the rest of the team were neither impressed nor encouraged by my achievement.
Perspective can be a wonderful thing – provided we’re open to its possibilities.
Coupled with that openness is an ability to ask two key questions which apply not only to the spiritual life but also to life itself: “what’s going on?” and “what’s really happening?”
To put it another way: are we capable of living life at a level other than the here and now?
This is a particularly relevant question in the world we live in today – precisely because we are being encouraged to only live at the level of the here and now. This encouragement comes in a variety of forms: the emphasis on instant communication; the multiplicity of opportunities (which in themselves create a sense of urgency and of “not missing out”); the almost total focus in advertising and other forms of media on the individual: ‘what I want is all that matters and I’m entitled to have it’.
Perspective matters; the ability to think beyond the superficial matters; and words matter.
“Tradition” is not the same thing as “old fashioned”; “values” are not the same as “skills”; “being true to ourselves” is not the same as “being popular or flexible”. It’s hardly a new challenge, of course; in his Letter to The Romans we find St Paul saying “Do not conform to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
But what does all that mean in relation to The Willows? The objectives of the club are well known: to encourage players in secondary school first elevens to play with and against present or past first-class cricketers and to offer quality cricket in a country atmosphere, where families may come and watch and picnic.
There’s a lot in there that could be further reflected upon. But I’d suggest the objectives always need to be read in the context of what follows: “Why was The Willows formed?” And the key phrases here include “to act as a catalyst”; “the traditions and ethos of the game” and “the development of youth”.
“What’s going on” at The Willows – and has been going on ever since the club began – is that quality cricket is learned and played by matching First Eleven players predominantly against experienced, skilled players. And that has huge benefits in and of itself. But “what’s really happening” is at another level. What The Willows endeavours to do is to help the young players who come here develop as individuals, not just as cricketers. It’s not just about cricket.
Every First Eleven member wants to be the best player they can be – and rightly so. In a cricketing context, it does matter what your average is; how many catches and stumpings you take; and so on. But if that is all there is to it, The Willows doesn’t need to exist – any decent cricket academy could improve the skills of teenage players.
In his MCC Spirit of Cricket Lecture, Brendon McCullum made a reference to his father, Stu. McCullum said “When dad talks about his cricketing experiences he doesn’t refer to runs, wickets, averages or aggregates but, rather, the friendships, camaraderie and experiences of his time as a semi-professional cricketer.”
Later on in the speech McCullum also quotes former Middlesex captain, Ed Smith: “... if every sportsman tried to be the best he could be, and attempted to behave decently along the way, you’ve pretty much summed up every available optimal strategy in one simple sentence. After all, you can’t be better than your best. And nothing matters more than how you feel about the way you’ve lived your life.”
And there’s the difference in perspective between being a very good – possibly even outstanding – cricketer and a decent person with integrity and values who is also a very good cricketer.
The most worthwhile thing The Willows does is to act as a catalyst, by using cricket, to assist parents and schools to help teenagers develop as people.
The Willows provides an environment that supports parents in encouraging their sons to develop such life-values as an appreciation of what is meant by ‘family’; a healthy and balanced moral perspective; good manners, a good work ethic; the skill to mix easily and graciously with people of all ages, and more.
In a similar way, the club supports the work done in schools to educate students (rather than simply “train” them) so that they can learn to think for themselves; to make decisions and accept positively the consequences; develop a sense of social responsibility and a desire to make a positive difference in their lives; learn the ability to speak clearly and confidently in public.
And so, between home, school and The Willows the “development of youth” can be measured by asking such questions as: is he a person of integrity whose word can be relied upon? Is he a person who has clear values and is convinced of them? Is he someone who values friendships and relationships above personal success and benefit? Does he see the talents he has as a means of contributing towards making society better? Is he someone who can live with differences and see strengths and possibilities in the views and actions of others, even when they differ from his own thoughts and ways of doing things?
All of which might seem a long way removed from playing a game of cricket – but it isn’t. The Willows isn’t – and never will be – judged on the number of games it wins or the number of new fixtures added to the calendar. It will be judged on the quality of the people involved with the club and the values they show in their daily living: because we are all someone else’s perception of The Willows.
Perspective is a great thing – and as Ham Hart told me when I’d commented on his umpiring performance once too often, “Just remember, son, your turn to bat is coming up – and it’s not likely to be a lengthy one if you carry on like this.”