Oppenheimer and the Crickets
I think now of a cricket story.
The bowler ran in and delivered a half-tracker. It was the first delivery of the match. The ball was just wide enough for the batter to free his arms without stretching himself. He slashed at it and cut it straight to the fielder at point. The batter stood for a moment, he stared at his bat as if it had done something out of the ordinary, not directed by his hands. After that, he fixed his gaze on the surface.
The bowler was a chap called Andrew Tweedy and the fielder was named Wayne Scott, members of the Crickets Cricket Club, a 74-year-old club in KZN. Whatever cricketing dreams either man had stayed in childhood. They recaptured the magic when they met their teammates at the Kloof Country Club on the weekend and padded up to play.
However, they keep other people’s dreams alive by donating their subscriptions to clubs developing young talent in the region.
The batter was Jonathan Oppenheimer. Yes, that Jonathan Oppenheimer. The one, who between 1995 and 2004 captained a side with the South African team that played against English, Indian, Australian, Sri Lankan, and West Indian sides touring South Africa. His family owned the ground they were playing on, the Nicky Oppenheimer Cricket Stadium at Randjesfontein, and, had he known about the Maharaja of Kashmir, he would have been tempted to behave like him.
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The Maharaja arrived at the ground at three o’clock. The game would pause as the national anthem was played/sung, and then he would relax in the tent to smoke a water pipe. The Maharaja stepped out of the tent at 4.30, attendants would help him pad up, help him with his gloves and then would go in to bat, irrespective of which side was batting.
If he was bowled, the Maharaja was not given out. Once, a wicketkeeper called a no-ball after the ball had hit the stumps. Eventually, 20 or so minutes later, after he had compiled his half-century, he informed the umpire that he was tired and he would be given out lbw. After his exit, the teams would continue as if he had never been involved.
Oppenheimer was nothing like the Maharaja. He batted down the order when he captained the Nicky Oppenheimer XI (named after his father). He fielded with passion and was always willing to send down a few overs of his medium pacers. One part could have been him understanding and accepting his limitations as a cricketer, having played a few first-class matches for Oxford University, and the other could be his respect for the professionals he played with and against.
However, despite his love and passion for cricket, scheduling the match against Oppenheimer and his team was not easy. Every year, the Crickets venture out of KZN. They play the Nyonis at Skukuza in the Kruger and they also go toe to toe with a Gauteng Lions-affiliated side. Both sides were well represented with both amateurs and former pros. The Oppenheimer XI was the one team he couldn’t pin down.
Trying to play against them was like trying to play against Akash Ambani and his team. A good friend of mine went to the IPL and as part of the group that the Ambani family was hosting, he found himself being invited to a match at midnight. At a police station. Kieron Pollard was the umpire and Ambani was one of the batters. Privacy, security and time constraints dictated.
Lambert and the Crickets only managed to secure a match because Richard Snell went to bat for them. “Snell was always very friendly with us. I kept asking him, ‘Let's have a game against you guys.’ So he went to the Oppenheimers and said, ‘Listen, there’s this club from Kloof, they called the Crickets, founded in 1947. They've had Springbok and Proteas cricketers. You know, there's a lot of history,” Lambert shared.
Oppenheimer, being a student and lover of the game was impressed by the story and invited them to Gauteng. Those qualities could also be the reason why he took the send-off given to him by Scott in stride.
Oppenheimer was still at the crease, looking from bat to the pitch accusingly, as if they had both conspired to get him dismissed, when Scott strode up and said, “Hey, who do you think you are WG Grace? There's the chain drum and the hot tap is on the left.”
Oppenheimer was nothing like Grace. The bearded Englishman was obstinate; he didn't walk, and if he deemed it necessary, he engaged in fistfights. The man was not above kidnapping players, and he certainly wouldn't have happily shared drinks with Scott and the Crickets after the match as Oppenheimer did.
I told you this story for no other reason than that it's a cricket story.
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Thanks for reading. Until next time… - CS
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