THE extraordinary shots played by the English cricketer Kevin Pietersen last week in a test match against New Zealand have prompted equally extraordinary reactions. What Pietersen did has never been seen before - except, perhaps on beaches where fathers were teasing their sons, writes Henry Kelly.
He switched from being a right-handed batsman, with his left shoulder pointing towards the incoming bowler, to playing left-handed, with his right shoulder towards the bowler. and he did this while the ball was actually being delivered to him. He did it twice. He hit both deliveries for six.
The distinguished former West Indies fast bowler and Sky Sports commentator Michael Holding wondered if the move was legal. After all, he argued, the bowler has to inform the batsman which arm he is using and whether he's coming round or over the wicket. Others thought Pietersen's feat was so stunning and brazen - and so successful - that it couldn't be against the laws of cricket. Just in time to nip any long debate in the bud, the MCC decided Pietersen's audacious move was acceptable.
But if anyone thinks doing apparently daft things with great success in cricket is a modern phenomenon, I can direct them to the only book on the game written by the legendary W.G. Grace. It is called simply Cricket, and I picked it up in a second-hand bookshop in Notting Hill Gate 20 years ago for more money than the available supply of sense I had at the time. Tucked away at the back of this amazing book, which contains great technical insights about the game as well as Grace's memories of his career, is a section on what he calls "curiosities". There you will find the following little gems which I offer in no particular order.
On August 8th, 1792 a match was played between an XI of the Garrison of Dublin and an XI of All-Ireland for 1,000 guineas - an enormous sum in those days. The garrison won by an innings and 105 runs. In 1825, a Mr Little Dench of Brighton, when long-stopping to George Brown, the fast bowler, protected himself by using a sack of straw fastened to his chest.
And how about this? In 1827 a certain Mr Tramfer and his sheepdog once played two gentlemen of Middlesex - and won. The dog stood at the side of his master until the ball was hit and was so quick at fielding that their opponents had great difficulty in scoring a single run. A cricket match between two sides on horseback was played in 1800.
So much for the batting; here's the bowling. In 1866, in a match between Surrey and Middlesex, all of Surrey's players bowled in their opponent's first innings. They took their lead, presumably, from the fact that two years earlier in a game between England and Australia, also at the Oval, all the England XI bowled.
Fielding gets a look in too. Playing in a match in Birmingham in 1854, a certain R.C. Tinley caught all 12 of the opposition at point. And spare a thought for one Capt Adams who, playing in a match at the Old Phoenix Park ground in 1844, jumped over an iron fence (I presume the one at mid-wicket protecting the dog pond) and while still in the air caught the ball with one hand (his left).
The Grace book should be required reading for the purists, and I include myself in that category. My cricket goes back literally to my infancy, when my late father and brother made sure there was a cricket ball and bat in the pram with me at all times. It didn't do much for my skills, but it gave me a lasting enthusiasm for the game, which is actually increasing with age.
When one-day cricket and other innovations came in, I muttered with the best of the grumpy old men. Coloured clothes instead of whites were fancy dress with no place in our game. "Flying in the face of tradition," I thundered with the best of them.
Wrong. In Grace's book there are photographs demonstrating clothes from the 19th century. Here are Thomas Hayward and Robert Carpenter in black boots, cream trousers and very fetching light-coloured shirts with a speckled or polka-dot pattern.
Hayward wears a short tie, Carpenter a bow. Both are bearded and have bowler hats. The great George Parr wears a top hat, trousers without belt, and black shoes. And Mr A.N. Hornby went to the wicket in collar and tie with a striped blazer buttoned almost to the neck.
As for eccentric shots, another cricket volume in my collection contains a photograph of how to play slow off-breaks. It is described as the "half-cocked shot between the legs from outside off-stump to fine leg". As the ball arrives outside off-stump and is clearly moving towards middle or middle and leg, you quickly lift your front foot (the left, for a right-hander), wait for a split second and, as the ball turns in, hammer it down to fine leg.
I saw this shot played only once in a match. It was when an Old Belvedere side of which I was captain went to play the men of North Kildare. Their opening batsman, Darcy Irvine, was by then, I suspect, in his 80s, hard of hearing and not blessed any longer with great sight. For some reason I stupidly took pity on him after he had survived a few overs and scrambled a few runs. I bowled myself.
My tediously slow off-break got the half-cocked treatment to fine leg. In the long grass of the outfield it made only two runs.
So go on then, Pietersen: if you're so smart, have a go at that.