Saturday, October 25, 2014

Pure Serene

One year at Greyfriars I played on the same eleven as Keats and Chapman, but I found them very standoffish and unfriendly, which made my shyness even worse. The headmaster thought I was being ridiculous; "It's not a cocktail party, for God's sake, it's cricket," he said. "What difference could it possibly make whether they talk to you or not?" But the thing was, they kept whispering, and I felt they were whispering about me.
Moreover, the captain insisted on playing me as wicket-keeper, a position for which, for technical reasons I need not go into, I was entirely unsuited. Keats finally noticed how upset I was and asked, rather kindly I thought, if there was anything he could do, but what could I say? I knew I'd never be any good at the game till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bowled.
From Tom Brown's School Days, 1877, via The Vatican of Sport.
Dedicated to Smut, without whom I might never have known of the genre, and the late Brian O'Nolan/Myles na Gopaleen.

No comments:

Post a Comment