Writers at the Wicket
Writers at the Wicket is an article published in Daily Record & Daily Mail on 27 june 1901.
Writers at the Wicket
Their Abilities Summed Up by One of Themselves.
Mr. Frankfort Moore has been caught by the interviewer on the subject of novelists' cricket. The talk was apropos of a match at Esher between representatives of Literature and Art, and the author of "The Conscience of Corale" spoke his mind freely.
J. M. Barrie, said he, doesn't shine in the game. "He is too fond of leg hits. And he turns round to them! Besides; he always wants to go in last. That is invariably my aim also. In one match I stipulated that I should be the last batsman — a good player can always dictate his own terms — but I found that Barrie had made the same request the day before I had. Next year I beat him; I gave six months' notice to the captain that I must go in last. I did go in last — and came out with the first ball. It was unkind of Barrie to laugh."
A Stimulating Man.
"I will say this for Barrie, he's a great man for pulling a weak team together. He stimulates them by precept, if not by example. Altogether a first-class cricketer — by proxy. As for batting, well, he can't bat for smoke. He is thinking of his pipe all the time. Often I and other members of the team have nursed that old briar-root and kept it alight while he has been at the wicket. Barrie is a capital fellow, a clever fellow, but he has his limitations on the cricket field. The worst of it is he doesn't know it."
Mr. Frankfort Moore became more serious when discussing the prowess of Dr. Conan Doyle. One cannot speak flippantly of a man who plays for M.C.C. and is a deadly rifle shot and expert boxer to boot. He might object! "Sherlock Holmes" is a splendid bat and first-class bowler. He is the only author the cricket world regards seriously.
Another fine bowler is Mr. A. E. W. Mason, while Mr. Percy White is a vigorous bat and Mr. Shan Bullock a steady one. Mr. Moore admitted that he himself was "a very bad all-round man."
Moore Stories.
Mr. Moore related a capital story of a university gentleman who on one occasion assisted the Authors' team. He cornered Mr. Conan Doyle in the pavilion.
"I think," said the university gentleman, "we managed between us to run up a pretty fair score, Mr. ——er; I really forget your name."
"My name is Conan Doyle,"
replied the doctor.
"Precisely," apologised the university gentleman. "Now, Mr. Doyle," he asked in a confidential whisper, "do you really write things?"
"Yes,"
admitted the author. "That is, when I can spare a little time from cricket."
"How interesting!" exclaimed the university gentleman. Presently he met Mr. Barrie leaving the field.
"Are you really an author, Mr. Barrie?" be asked, with emphasis on the "really."
"Well," replied 'Thrums' in his quiet, droll way, "sometimes I think I am. At other times I am not so sure."
"How interesting!" With which observation he turned to Mr. Frankfort Moore.
"Sorry you didn't bat, Mr. —er—h'm! I didn't quite catch your name."
"Moore," explained the author of a score of novels and half as many plays.
"Ah, yes," said the university gentleman. "I needn't ask you whether you write, Mr. Moore, for your 'Lalla Rookh' is one of my favourite books!"
