Walter Wright And The Case Of An Unusually Long Pitch Where The Batsman Was Dismissed Thrice

Cricket is a game of glorious uncertainties as some put it. True?

Well, not entirely.

It’s also a game of glorious stupidities or abnormalities.

For instance, take the case of weird dismissals. Some might argue that the dismissal wherein the striker hits only for the bowler’s finger to touch the ball and then to deflect the bails is harsh to the non-striker.

But what about handling the ball? What about obstructing the cricket field?

We’ve all seen and laughed and perhaps endlessly so in the light of the above. But what about contesting in a game on an unusually long pitch?

Ever heard about a cricket match that was played on a 23-yard-pitch?

Law dictates that no cricket match can officially go ahead unless and until it takes place on a 22-yard-pitch.

But back in May 18, 1885, when there was no mammal anywhere on the earth debating whether Sachin was better or was it Lara, and when it didn’t increase the price of fish as to whether Kohli’s cover drive was more exquisite or Babar‘s, there was a rather unusual contest that took place on a turf that you’d today deem simply implausible.

T20 fans may resonate with this true saga to an extent a Jean Claude Van Damme fan would with cartoons featuring Scooby Doo.

But truth is, in a first-class contest that saw Charlie Thornton‘s England XI lock horns with the Cambridge University, there was a sense of strangeness and absurdity about the cricket.

England batted first on a day where there was little respite from the rain gods; it was already drizzling by the time Yorkshire legend Martin Hawke and Charlie Thornton walked out for the toss.

In a game where there were as many runs and dismissals as also constant spurts of showers, participants kept busy in rushing off from and back to the ground.

But as England lost two quick wickets with not too many on the board, and with the number three- Walter Wright too back in the dugout, there erupted a huge discussion in midst of the pitch.

It was unusual and hitherto never seen in a first-class game. It was long. Perhaps akin to a tall Chris Gayle beginning to sprint from left arm over the wicket.

There were groundsmen in midst of a live cricket game. Measuring tapes had already made their way into the middle. The distance between stumps was being as carefully read as a school-goer revises the syllabi a night before the final examination.

What was eventually discovered was perhaps more shocking than the politics eating up Proteas cricket. It was found that the cricket pitch, in particular, was longer than one had thought.

It wasn’t 22 yards but 23-yard-long.

There was more confusion on the cards when some even reckoned the actual pitch that had hitherto been used was around 23 and a quarter yard long in length.

But who was at fault? Would the umpires take the blame, one wondered?

Soon, one saw Thornton and Hawke discussing something closely. It was eventually decided that the match would begin from scratch.

Once again, the great Thornton was out in the middle but this time with John Studd. But the captain, famously known as ‘Buns,’ revered for hitting huge sixes, wasn’t so lucky again.

Next up was Nottinghamshire’s Water Wright, who looked a bit settled. He would get up to a score between 15-20. Eventually, on a pitch that was getting moist by the tick of the hour saw England collapse to 235 all out.

And even before the day ended, Cambridge University had scored 22 for the loss of 1 wicket.

Next day, Surrey’s Herbert Bainbridge and Kent’s Frank Marchant toiled hard and took the university team to 231.

A four-run lead was perhaps nothing but it didn’t matter as England XI came out again and this time with much gusto.

Though this time around, it was Walter Wright who opened and helped his captain Thornton to put up a vital 92-run stand before he found his stumps shattered.

Thus getting dismissed thrice when it should have ideally been twice in a first-class game.

He had scored no more than 23.

To this day, he holds the not so enviable distinction of getting out thrice in a single game. His average? The stuff Yuzi Chahal or Shanon Gabriel‘s batting performances are made of.

But make no mistake. This wasn’t a contest that reached a conclusion as the rain gods decided to take over more than a half of a day, thus the contest’s final day being abandoned eventually.

Just imagine Walter Wright’s plight? A game where he got three chances to score didn’t even have a conclusion? Whose loss was it anyway?