WALKING WITH DINOSAURS

Debate has raged down in the Dungeon about the walking non-issue. These types of arguments rarely rage at the Shed. Davo reckons it’s a complete waste of oxygen. The Marylebone Cricket Club’s Official Laws of Cricket are clear. Law 27 is explicit. In layman’s terms what it essentially says is that a batsman can give himself out if he wishes, but isn’t inclined to (27.1). Additionally, an umpire has the power to order a batsman back to the crease, if in his opinion he disagrees with the player’s misplaced morality (27.7). It ends with the incontrovertible phrase, “an umpires decision, once made, is final” (27.9).

In light of this debate and with a parched palette, your correspondent hitched a ride in Davo’s ute and headed down to the Wattle and Swan to have a beer with local umpire Dickie Cowans, a man that played and officiated in Lancastrian League cricket for over two decades before being seduced to emigrate to Australia with the love of his life, local sculptist and Quarry Road Cricket Club Scorer Rhonda Barrett.

An excellent Celtic flautist who once played at Buckingham Palace for the Queen Mother, Dickie began umpiring locally as soon as the Tasmanian Cricket Association allowed. With a veteran’s knowledge of the English game and six years experience in Australia, the Shed sought his views on walkers. Below lies the unedited transcription.

Nesta: G’Day Dickie.

Dickie: How are you old mate?

Nesta: Paddling upstream but she’ll be right. I was wondering if I could gauge your views on cricket for the website I write for occasionally.

Dickie: Googly isn’t it?

Nesta: That’s right.

Dickie: OK but it’s your shout. I had a read there the other day and saw that toff Cowdrey taking the high moral ground.

Nesta: We’re in harmony today Dickie because that is precisely what I’ve come to talk about. Before we begin could you start off and tell the readers how you were given the name Dickie when you first arrived in these parts?

Dickie: Well you know this story because you’re the bastard who gave it to me. And it has stuck to me like a bad smell. Where’s that beer?

Nesta: It’s coming. And it wasn’t me it was Bluey. Go on tell the story. You know what? I’ve just realized that I don’t even know the name your Mother gave you.

Dickie: It was my Father and it is Brian.

Nesta: Easy mate. Come on Dickie, just tell us the story. This is your chance to air your side of the tale.

Dickie: Yeah. OK. Well it was my first match umpiring down here and after being put through the wringer by the TCA, I was finally allowed to get back on the field.

Nesta: What happened with the TCA?

Dickie: They treated me poorly when I first arrived. They made me sit a beginners exam even though I’d already been umpiring back home for a dozen years. All’s forgiven now.

Nesta: Sounds fair. What did they say when you told them you were experienced and licensed in England?

Dickie: That I wouldn’t have any trouble passing the test!

Nesta: You probably thought he was joking! Hey Dickie, now what about that nickname?

Dickie: Yeah. Well I strolled out to the toss where you and Bluey from Sorell were waiting and you both started sledging me.

Nesta: That wasn’t sledging Dickie. And anyway, it was your own fault for wearing that silly white coat.

Dickie: Yeah well, if you let me finish.

Nesta: Sorry mate. Continue.

Dickie: As I was saying, you and the other captain were calling me Dickie and giggling like schoolgirls.

Nesta: Steady on Dickie. It’s a form of affection. You know that, don’t you?

Dickie: Well I do now but I didn’t then.

Nesta: Is that why you gave me out leg before to a ball missing leg by three feet?

Dickie: It was swinging back and hitting middle! And you batted all bloody day didn’t you?

Nesta: 112 before that dodgy decision if I remember correctly. Rhonda would have the book. It’s hard to forget centuries on the first day of the season. I know you didn’t mean it. It was late in the day and you were sweating buckets in that coat of yours.

Dickie: Are you printing this?

Nesta: I’m joking mate, we all know that umpires are bastions of integrity and honesty. Anyway, what do you think of walkers?

Dickie: Well, since living down here it's been pointed out to me that historically walking was a way for the upper class Poms to assert their moral authority over everybody else.

Nesta: That’s exactly what Cowdrey was doing then?

Dickie: What do you think, Nesta? Putting shit on the rest of us is a British ruling class tradition.

Nesta: Seen much walking down here?

Dickie: Never. I was told by old Tom Hawkins, he’s umpired for 40 years, that the real cheats are the walkers.

Nesta: What do you mean?

Dickie: Fellows that walk don’t do it all the time. So they plant a seed in the umpire’s mind that they are above suspicion. That way they are often given the benefit of the doubt when they do nick one.

Nesta: Not by old Tom, I bet. You're right. you don’t see too many blokes walking on 99. Did you see much walking when you umped and played in England?

Dickie: Remarkably Nest old man, I did.

Nesta: What was your job then? Walking coathanger?

Dickie: Not exactly.

Nesta: So walkers are not moral crusaders but con men. Is that right?

Dickie: I never thought so until I came to live here but I think that is a correct assessment.

Nesta: Should we suspend them for bringing the game into disrepute?

Dickie: Enough bloody questions Nesta. Where’s my ale? Being a celebrity is hard slog on a Sunday afternoon. Where’s your guitar? Let’s go out on the verandah, sit in the sun and play some tunes.

Nesta: Sounds like a plan, Dickie. I’ll get the beers.