Always a batsman's game

The language of cricket, I have come to realise, is predicated on batting being a very difficult act of survival.

When our terminology was first shaped, by James Love in his report of the Kent v England match in 1744, none of the four totals neared 100. Scoring 18 runs in one innings as 'Great Newland' did, was almost a match-winning feat. For everybody in the world except WG Grace, batting remained difficult until the 1890s.

From the beginning, therefore, the language of cricket sympathised with the batsman as the underdog. And our sympathy towards him, based on batting being so difficult, is reinforced by the fact that he is outnumbered. He has 11 opponents pitted against him. Darwinians would say it is the same with every underdog: we identify with the batsman, and want him to survive, because the time might come when we find ourselves in his position.

The language of cricket has thus evolved to present the batsman as being positive, even creative, in the most arduous circumstances. No cricket team is on record as having been dismissed in ten balls, but in theory it could happen, and then the game would be terminated most abruptly. It would not be much of a day for anyone except the winners - certainly not spectators, including reporters. Anyone who is not a rabid supporter of the fielding side wants the game to go on for a certain length of time, and is therefore prepared to view batting - for prolonging the game - in a positive light.

The bowler, on the other hand, is portrayed as destructive, sometimes to the point where the language implies that he is morally reprehensible. In this dualistic world, as in no other English sport, one group of players is cast as 'goodies,' i.e the batsmen, and the other group as 'baddies', i.e the bowlers. If they are too effective, bowlers can ruin the game by ending it prematurely.

'Make' is the verb the Bible uses to describe what God did to the world: what, in the eye of believers, could be more creative? 'Make' has become a synonym for 'score', for the basic function of a batsman.

When a batsman hits the ball skilfully and often, he becomes a 'stroke-maker'. When the ball hits the meat of his bat, he hits it 'cleanly' - a healthy act in itself. A batsman who makes runs quickly can also be described as scoring 'freely'. In the words of the song commissioned by Frederick, Prince of Wales: 'Britons never, never, never shall be slaves!' We have always treasured freedom, for ourselves.

The crease has to be used just as much by bowlers as batsmen, for every ball of the match. Yet the Laws of Cricket, officially unbiased, term this area 'the batsman's ground'. They do not call it the bowler's ground, although the crease is pivotal to a pace bowler's physical well-being, even his whole career: he has to bring his front foot down somewhere inside the crease without twisting his ankle in a worn patch or tearing his Achilles. So the Laws award the crease to the batsman: he is defending his ground, as well as his wicket, against eleven aggressors.

A batsman like David Gower can, in addition, be showered with praise normally reserved for the fairest of the female sex. His batting can be described as 'dazzling' or 'beautiful', or even 'divine'. Even he whose batting is the opposite of beautiful normally escapes any linguistic censure. He might make 'ugly' runs but he himself is not called an ugly batsman: functional or efficient or workmanlike, but not ugly. If he 'carts the ball to cow corner,' or 'mows to leg' or 'scythes', the analogy is derived from farming, that valuable work upon which our existence depends. Such a batsman might go on to 'nurse the tail' - and how gallant is he who follows in the footsteps of Florence Nightingale.

When the bowler fulfils his role - or, in professional cricket, does he job - the language used to describe his achievement is at best negative.

Various attributes are used to describe an effective pace bowler, not a single one complimentary: hostile/nasty/destructive/dangerous/threatening/mean/vicious/explosive. They have connotations of such immoral and violent aggression that the pace bowler, as he wreaks havoc, is no better than Genghis Khan.

Such language must predispose the newcomer or neutral observer against bowlers, albeit subconsciously. At any rate, in England and most Test-playing countries, batsmen have always been more admired than bowlers.