by Jamie Croft
Executive member Perrett has asked me to write a short introductory piece on bowling as a prelude to my reqular column 'Red Ball on Turf'. Under editorial instruction to retell my philosophy on bowling as expounded at Hatcher mews in the spring of 1986 I offer 'The Yin and Yang of Bowling'.
First, a diversion. History has always been puzzled by the dilemma of forgetting, and the recent spate of oral history is no doubt an attempt to overcome the problems faced by those on the losing side of history. The Reds' psyche, once summed up as manic-depressive and ridden with self-doubt, will therefore understand that it is my memory which has forgotten all the details of the Yin and Yang. I also hope to gain more empathy for my forgetting by describing it as a Hatcheresque forgetting. For the uncultivated, a Hatcheresque forgetting is one which is lost in the plethora of foreign substances imbibed in rapid succession. Having come this far, my methodology, then, is best summed up as a reconstruction of the archaeological trash of my mind, a plebeian journey through the Dark Ages.
A bowler must first love before he can hate but to be successful be must both love and hate in the same run-up. It is his own body that he must love and the pathetic figure with his twig of willow at the other end that he must hate. This is the yin and yang of bowling.
Simply expressed, yes, but oh so difficult to achieve. Should he love too much, he falls into the pool narcissistic onanism. Should he hate all the time the devil takes away his guile and vision. Whether the balance is tipped either way, it matters not; the result is the same.- the pathos of twig is transformed into Bradmanesque splendour. Again, to use Hegelian metaphor, bowler as slave, batsman as master. Synthesis is all important to yin and yang.
It is not my aim to be didactic, for yin and yang cannot be taught; it can only be described. Yin and yang just happens. The poetry of-its delivery is the essence of good karma. It is, of course, existential, and vanishes into nothingness at the point of release. The journey of the ball is merely consequential, its destiny already framed.
Bowlers do know (in the Eastern sense of knowing) when it happens. Eddie Gilbert knew before the Don was sent back. Billy Perrett knew before the sacrificial trio were humiliated. Good bowling is not possible without yin and yanq. To understand this is a salutary lesson for all young bowlers. The critical ontology of knowledge must stop the moment the bowler turns and moves towards the batsman. Theory is overtaken by love and hate; it is yin and yang which win cricket games.