Greetings Noble Sir

by Nigel Flaxton

  To-day, the position is better due mainly to the interest in competitive sport fostered by television. Talented youngsters are sought more actively. But schools are still the only places where the majority of people receive sports training, even though that is not evenly distributed. Some schools are fortunately situated on sites with their own sports fields, but others can no longer rely on fields provided by the local authority which, most likely, have been sold for housing. There is also the continued class distinction in some sports. I am sure, even now, we still miss some possible champions.

  But even teachers are guilty of ignoring skill when they see it as Rocky learnt when she entered teams for a Grand Rounders Tournament. Someone in the city Schools’ Sports Association had proposed the event and advertised it amongst the Junior Schools. There were to be separate sections for boys’ and girls’ teams; it was also suggested that if the event proved successful leagues might be formed and a regular competition organised on the lines of those existing in football, cricket, athletics and swimming.

  I knew that the Dayton Road children were good at rounders due mainly to Rocky, but aided by Taff. These two not only taught the game but played as well, one on each side, and neither in any way pulled their punches, or rather their batting and throwing. Instead of being intimidated by the adults’ efforts the children accepted the challenge readily, and matched effort with effort and skill with skill. Wilf and I were pressed into service and soon were able to acquit ourselves adequately. Then we formed a staff team with the addition of a few eleven year olds. This was quite formidable, but everyone wanted to be in a team which could beat it. Playground battles raged in the lunch time breaks and gradually the staff found the opposition getting stronger and tougher. Finally, Rocky pronounced the Dayton Road Rounders Teams ready for the Grand Tournament.

  The four of us met the team members outside School on the appointed Saturday and shepherded them to the bus stop. The venue was a large sports field on the southern side that we found pleasant and very spacious. Other teams were much in evidence when we arrived and for an instant our team members looked dismayed. Many others were dressed in smart strip in marked contrast to their own motley mixture of clothes. They turned worried and appealing faces to us.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Rocky, ‘this isn’t a fashion parade. What matters is winning.’

  ‘You never worry about how you look when you’re playing rounders at School or at our fields,’ said Taff, ‘so don’t start now. Just show them all what Dayton Road kids are made of.’

  Leslie, who was the boys’ backstop where his prowess at goal and wicket keeping was fully maintained, sensed our attempts at psychological support. He turned his cheeky freckled face towards his pals and squared his thick shoulders.

  ‘Yeah, let’s belt the pants off the lot on ‘em.’

  Taff rolled his eyes but eschewed comment. After all, Leslie did epitomize the spirit we tried to instil into their game. Rocky sought out the tournament organiser, Miss Brahms.

  ‘Ah, Miss Rockliffe, so good of you to enter your teams. Dayton Road, aren’t you? I must say I admire your enthusiasm; you’ve come such a long way, haven’t you? There isn’t another team from the north of the city.’

  ‘Well, the children are keen and they seem quite good at the game. It’ll be worth our journey if we get the chance of competition on a regular basis, if a league is formed.’

  The two men and I were standing with the children a short distance from Rocky, waiting to be given instructions. Miss Brahms saw us and reacted slightly.

  ‘Some of your players look rather small. You do realise that most teams are made up of eleven year olds, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes - and most of ours are eleven as well. One or two especially good ones come from younger classes. But don’t be misled by their size. Some may be small, but they’re tough.’

  Rocky’s face began to show that delicate pink shade which made her so attractive. She would brook no criticism of her warriors today whatever their appearance.

  ‘Well, I am sure you know their capabilities,’ said Miss Brahms in a tone which left us in no doubt she expected our forces to be massacred. ‘The morning matches are being played on a points basis. The teams have been divided into four sections, and each team plays all others in their section. You will find which section yours are in on that board over there. The winners of sections A and B will than play each other this afternoon in the semi-finals, and so will C and D - then the winners of those matches will contest the final.’

  ‘Good. I’ll find out who we play first,’ said Rocky.

  ‘We should like teams which are eliminated in the morning to stay and watch the afternoon matches, if you can manage it,’ Miss Brahms called. Rocky’s mouth was set in a firm line as she reached us.

  ‘Pooh, she doesn’t think much of us, does she Miss?’ said Pauline M who acted as Rocky’s games monitor and as such felt she was privileged.

  ‘That’ll do: It’s up to us to prove her wrong. Come on, everyone, let’s get going.’

  Rocky seized a rounders bat from Pauline and strode off twirling it like a truncheon. We all fell in behind our undoubted leader. It transpired that each section comprised four teams and therefore each had to play three games in the morning session. The boys’ and girls’ competitions were identical but quite separate. Rocky naturally attached herself to our girls’ team and Taff to the boys. In the ensuing toss between Wilf and me, he won. ‘I’m going with the girls as there are two from my class in the team,’ he said.

  It was a bright autumn day and the neatly cut grass shone in the sunlight. A giant hand had doodled a series of neat, white diamonds over the surface each with a little square at one apex. Taff and I led our team to one marked for our section where another group was already in occupation. The boys were neatly dressed in white open-necked shirts and white shorts. They were nonchalantly throwing a rounders ball to one another whilst a grey haired man watched them,

  ‘Good morning, we’re Dayton Road - are you in Section C as well?’ Taff enquired.

  ‘Yes, we’re Sexton Crescent. My name’s Chadderton. ‘Hughes,’ returned Taff, and this is my colleague, Mr Flaxton.’ I shook hands with Mr Chadderton, then looked more closely at his boys. They looked very smart indeed and most certainly were taller than ours. Obviously Sexton Crescent was located in a much more favoured neighbourhood than Dayton Road.

  ‘I believe we should begin straight away,’ said Mr Chadderton. ‘When the other two schools in our section arrive they play each other on the pitch next to this one.’

  ‘Right,’ agreed Taff. ‘Shall we toss? Captains.’

  A smart lad emerged from the Sexton Crescent group and stood near to Taff as Martin A thrust forward from ours. Apart from being good at most ball games Martin was a fortunate choice as Boys’ Rounders Captain in the circumstances. He stood head and shoulders above the rest of our lads, had strikingly blond hair and came from a reasonably well-to-do home. He was also intelligent and knew it. At School it was sometimes necessary to curb his big-headedness but today I took much satisfaction from the way he looked the opposing boy steadily in the eye as Taff flicked the coin.

  ‘You call,’ he invited the Seaton Crescent lad.

  ‘Heads.’

  The coin fell. Taff looked at it and so did the caller. ‘Tails - er, Martin?’ Martin was still staring at his opponent like a boxer listening to the referee’s strictures before the first bell.

  ‘We’ll bat,’ he boomed. Then he turned sharply away. ‘Come on lads - get stuck in.’ Our boys seized their favourite weapons from the stock he’d been carrying. They lined up grimly well to one side of the batting square. Meanwhile the Seaton Crescent boys moved to their fielding positions. It was decided Mr Chadderton would umpire during our innings and Taff during theirs. I retired to a spot half way between the two pitches allocated to Section C and prep
ared to act as cheer leader.

  Martin faced up to the first ball. ‘Play,’ called Mr Chadderton. The pitcher bowled a reasonably fast ball. Martin took an almighty swipe at it and missed. The backstop stooped but missed the ball, so had to chase after it. Martin swung round wildly, contemplating a run to first base.

  ‘Stay, stay,’ hissed the entire Dayton Road team.

  ‘Alright, keep your voices down,’ commanded Taff. The ball was retrieved and thrown to the pitcher. Martin faced him again and this time I saw him focus on the ball instead of the far distance where he intended to hit it. The pitcher bowled and Martin hit it hard. It cracked out of the diamond like a bullet, well between two of the three deep fielders.

  ‘Run, run, run,’ yelled our boys at the top of their voices without a thought for Taff.

  ‘RUN,’ I yelled, equally oblivious of decorum. Martin needed not the slightest admonition to hurtle round the field, thumping each base pole as he passed. It wasn’t necessary to do this, you only had to touch a base when you were going to stop at it, and Rocky would have been furious had she been watching. But in this instance the aggressive act boosted our boys’ morale.

  Martin’s dive at fourth base and home was entirely unnecessary as the ball was in the air well outside the pitch, having been thrown by a scampering deep fielder. The Dayton Road boys exploded into raucous cheering.

  Batting order went according to fielding positions, so Leslie was next. His short stocky frame seemed dwarfed in the square, but I knew that if he connected the ball could disappear into the far distance. For his size he had considerable strength. He missed the first ball, and the second was called ‘no ball’. On the repeat throw, he thrashed at it so wildly that he spun himself round and nearly left the square, which would have forced him to run. His pugnacious determination was completely stumping his ability.

  ‘Keep your eye on the ball, Leslie,’ I shouted.

  Fortunately my words penetrated, for on the final bowl he hit it cleanly away to his left and sped round the pitch to complete our second rounder. During the ensuing yells I looked at the Seaton Crescent boys. They were looking at each other none too comfortably. They also looked closely at the next member of our team as he entered the batting square. It was Geoffrey H, who with his twin brother George was a firm member of both football and cricket teams. They were tousle headed tots whose dreamy air was exasperating in the classroom where their inadequacy at any form of written work was only too apparent. But they were highly skilled at ball games.

  Geoffrey whacked the ball hard but it was fielded and he only made second base. The Sexton Crescent boys looked relieved. Then George ambled in and slowly looked round from the square. The pitcher bowled. George’s figure exploded and the ball soared into the deep well out of range of the fielders. He caught up his brother at fourth base as the latter shuffled in, having not the slightest intention of over-exerting himself unnecessarily.

  ‘Thought you could run,’ he quipped as he flashed past his brother. The team screamed and leapt in a wild dance of delight in which I joined with complete abandon. But suddenly I became aware of an audience behind me. The other teams in our section had arrived and were preparing to do battle. Momentarily I caught the eyes of two teachers who were watching my antics rather than our match and I subsided. However a fourth rounder from the sixth member of our team had me whooping again.

  The Sexton Crescent boys were visibly shaken at what to them were the totally unexpected skills and determination of our lads. But to their credit they didn’t fall apart and gradually began to capture scalps. Martin was caught by the backstop, two others fell at first base, and George was caught in the deep. Finally we were all out with our score standing at ten rounders which was a healthy but certainly not unbeatable total. As the opposing team lined up to bat I couldn’t repress the thought that with their obvious size and stamina a few good hits would soon redress the balance and restore their confidence. Little Geoffrey at first base seemed ridiculously diminutive as he guarded his post. I knew Leslie was a marvellous catcher at backstop, but his throws, though hard, could be wild. If the batter missed and Leslie was off target with his throws to Geoffrey the ball would speed into the distance enabling the batsman to score a half rounder off a no-hit with ease.

  But I needn’t have worried: Their tails were up and when the first Seaton Crescent boy cracked his first shot back hard at Martin who was pitching, and who held it in a fine catch, they really turned on the pressure. Geoffrey was in no way intimidated at first base. After all he was quite used to seeing my six foot frame hurtling at him in our playground matches and taking a ball cleanly from Leslie to dismiss me, so why should he be worried by lads who could give him only a few inches? Three fell to him in quick succession and it was only due to the skill of one boy that Seaton Crescent notched three rounders before Leslie gleefully caught the last ball and smashed it into the ground in the empty batting square to dismiss the last two who were running between bases, but alas for them, not to home.

  ‘Warrabout that, Sir? Leslie’s chest expanded an extra two inches as he strutted over to me with his coxcomb of red hair as erect as its owner.

  ‘Very good, very good indeed. Now you’ve got to do the same to the other two teams in our section then you’ll have something to be really proud of.’

  ‘Your boys really are very good, Mr Hughes,’ Mr Chadderton said to Taff. ‘Do you get plenty of opposition on the northern side of town?’

  ‘No,’ said Taff drily, ‘they have to put up with us.’ The other man laughed. ‘So that’s your secret. Are all your staff young and active?’

  ‘No, but the four of us manage to chase them about the playground.’

  ‘Well, good luck to you in your other matches. From what I know of the other teams here, you should do well. We usually win most of ours.’

  The ears of adults and boys alike were alerted by this revealing comment and our attention swung towards the other match which was still in progress nearby. After a few minutes it became obvious that Mr Chadderton was right. This match was a very poor affair indeed. The boys glanced at Taff and me with ill-concealed glee, and sat down to await their next combat.

  ‘I’ll nip over to Rocky and see how the girls are getting on, and let them have our news,’ I said. I made my way across the level grass, weaving in between other matches which were being played by a motley of children. It was a rewarding sight, young supple bodies revelling in physical activity in the wide open space bathed -in golden sunshine under a delicate blue sky. The squeals and strident shouts from many games emphasised the total commitment of young minds. I felt again the thrill of satisfaction I’d experienced many times since beginning work at Dayton Road in the early summer. I found the girls’ team involved in a game which Rocky was watching, not umpiring.

  ‘Is this still your first?’ I enquired.

  ‘No, the second. We won the first eight-one.’ Rocky sounded incredulous, but she was beaming.

  ‘Great. The boys did the same, ten - three, and from what I’ve seen of one other opposition, we ought to win our section.’

  Rocky became confidential. ‘That’s what I think. Look at this one.’

  I watched the girls who were batting. Few even held the bat sideways with their left shoulders facing the bowler, if they were right handed, to give them maximum thrust to their strokes. They stood facing the bowler with the bat held up like a truncheon. When hits were achieved they often went straight to the ground which made a score impossible. If no hit was made after three pitches the batter had to run and was stumped with ease at first base.

  ‘Well - keep it up! I’ll see you at lunch time. The kids will need their sandwiches, I think.’

  I returned to Taff with the good news to find our team fielding in their second match and skittling their opponents out with embarrassing ease.. Their teacher, who was umpiring, looked distinctly uncomfor
table. Taff sidled closer to me.

  ‘We’re sorting this lot out Nigel. Have you looked at some of the other teams? They haven’t got much idea compared with ours. I reckon the Sexton Crescent team was the best here. I’m sure they expected to win the tournament, but we ve upset their calculations. We should win this section easily.’

  He was proved correct Our boys won their other two games without difficulty and when we joined forces with the girls at the side of the field for a composite picnic, we found that they had done the same. The children were ecstatic and showed it, whilst we teachers were quite indistinguishable from them in glee.

  I stood up and surveyed the scene. Groups were dotted about, mostly tightly knit and identifiable as separate units. Some children were dashing about as is their wont, but they were in a minority. Slowly it dawned upon me that none of these groups was near to us. In fact we seemed to be set apart from the rest. I mentioned this fact to Rocky.

  ‘Yes - I rather think we’ve shaken things up. You know I’m not given to boasting and we must watch that the kids don’t get big-headed and throw the matches away, but I feel we might even sweep the board. One thing’s certain we shall certainly be staying for the afternoon and I rather want to see that Brahms’ woman’s face when she realises.’ I felt Rocky was entitled to gloat a little.

  In the event the afternoon was almost an anti-climax. Both our teams won their semi-finals and the boys won the final with comparative ease. The girls had more of a fight in theirs, winning an exciting match against a much larger school than Dayton Road by five and half to four. As the various team members and their teachers gathered for the presentations it became obvious to us that not many had fulfilled Miss Brahm’s hopes for a good audience to see the completion of the day’s events. Indeed the final attendance could only be described as very thin. Fortunately this fact was entirely lost upon our children.