If you have once
loved it and played it, you will find talk in it enough "for the wearing
out of six fashions," as Falstaff says. I like a man who has cricket in his
soul. I find I am prejudiced in his favour, and am disposed to disbelieve
any ill about him. I think my affection for Jorkins began with the
discovery that he, like myself, saw that astounding catch with which Ulyett
dismissed Bonnor in the Australian match at Lord's in 1883--or was it 1884?
And when to this mutual and immortal memory we added the discovery that we
were both at the Oval at the memorable match when Crossland rattled Surrey
out like ninepins and the crowd mobbed him, and Key and Roller miraculously
pulled the game out of the fire, our friendship was sealed.
The fine thing about a wrangle on cricket is that there is no bitterness in
it. When you talk about politicians you are always on the brink of bad
temper. When you disagree about the relative merits of W.B. Yeats or
Francis Thompson you are afflicted with scorn for the other's lack of
perception.
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