MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF SPORTS

PUNCH LIBRARY OF HUMOUR

Edited by J. A. Hammerton

Designed to provide in a series of volumes, each complete in itself, the cream of our national humour, contributed by the masters of comic draughtsmanship and the leading wits of the age to "Punch," from its beginning in 1841 to the present day.

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Boy (reassuringly). "It's all right, miss, I'm only looking for our cricket-ball!"

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MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF SPORTS

THE HUMOURS OF CRICKET, FOOTBALL, TENNIS, POLO, CROQUET, HOCKEY, RACING, &c.

AS PICTURED BY LINLEY SAMBOURNE, PHIL MAY, L. RAVEN-HILL, F. H. TOWNSEND, E. T. REED, GEORGE DU MAURIER, CHARLES KEENE, FRANK REYNOLDS, LEWIS BAUMER, GUNNING KING, G. D. ARMOUR, ARTHUR HOPKINS, EVERARD HOPKINS, J. A. SHEPHERD, AND OTHERS.

WITH 225 ILLUSTRATIONS PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PROPRIETORS OF "PUNCH"

THE EDUCATIONAL BOOK CO. LTD.

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The Punch Library of Humour

Twenty-five volumes, crown 8vo, 192 pages fully illustrated

LIFE IN LONDON COUNTRY LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS SCOTTISH HUMOUR IRISH HUMOUR COCKNEY HUMOUR IN SOCIETY AFTER DINNER STORIES IN BOHEMIA AT THE PLAY MR. PUNCH AT HOME ON THE CONTINONG RAILWAY BOOK AT THE SEASIDE MR. PUNCH AFLOAT IN THE HUNTING FIELD MR. PUNCH ON TOUR WITH ROD AND GUN MR. PUNCH AWHEEL BOOK OF SPORTS GOLF STORIES IN WIG AND GOWN ON THE WARPATH BOOK OF LOVE WITH THE CHILDREN

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Mr. Punch is nothing if not typical of his fellow countrymen in his interest in sport. If there be any truth in the assertion that Englishmen are neglecting the more serious affairs of life in their devotion to all forms of athletic sports, Mr. Punch would seem to be determined that there shall be no lack of humour in the process; for an immense proportion of his merry pages have been occupied with the humour of sport.

Indeed, there is no kind of open-air pastime which has escaped the kindly attention of our national humorist, and the fact that he never tires of poking good-natured fun at these hobbies of his countrymen, making merry over their misadventures, indicates in some degree that, whatever our social critics may think of the national taste for outdoor games, these must have a humanising influence and make for manliness, when their devotees can thus with good grace look upon themselves in Mr. Punch's mirror, and join in the laughter at their own expense.

But it must not be assumed that Mr. Punch's attitude is one of satirical criticism; on the contrary, his sympathies are with[Pg 6] every form of sportsmanship, and it is chiefly because his jovial knights of the pencil delight to illustrate the mishaps incidental to all games that we are entitled to look upon him as a great patron of our sports. And is not he always ready to pillory the cad and the incompetent as further proof of the soundness of his heart?

Certain volumes of this library are devoted entirely to one or other of our popular pastimes, determined mainly on their varying richness in humour, but in this "Book of Sports" we have brought together a carefully chosen selection of Mr. Punch's wittiest sayings on a variety of games and pastimes. Cricket might of itself have furnished forth a volume, Football, and Racing also; but we have sought after variety rather than repletion, and to this end even the passing craze for Ping-pong has not been ignored, as it is not the least of the merits of the Punch Library of Humour that within these volumes is enshrined a comic chronicle of the passing time.

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MR. PUNCH'S BOOK OF SPORTS

"The British "Sphere of Influence."—The cricket ball.

Cricketers who ought to be Good Hands at Playing a Tie.—"The Eleven of Notts."

Nomenclature.—The professional cricketer who makes a "duck's egg" ought surely to be dubbed a "quack."

A Model Cricket Match.—One that begins with a "draw," but does not end with one.

Epitaph on a Cricketer.—"Over!"

A Cricketing Paradox.—Any eleven can make a score.

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LORD'S!

There's a glorious sanctum of cricket,

Away in the Wood of St. John;

No spot in creation can lick it

For the game at which Grace is the "don."

Though Melbourne may claim a "Medina,"

The "Mecca" of cricket must be

In the beautiful classic arena,

The home of the "old" M. C. C.

Home, sweet home of the M. C. C.,

Ever my fancy is turning to thee!

Up with King Willow and down with the dumps

Hark to the rattle of leather and stumps.

Oh, what a rapturous thrill it affords!

Give yourself up to the magic of "Lord's."

Scoring for Dr. Grace.—"A running commentary."

All Work and no Play.—The umpire's part.

The Irrepressible Joker Again (on bail.)—

Q. Where ought ducks' eggs to be most readily found? A. At the Oval.

[Bail estreated.

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Hairdresser (about to part customer's hair). "Centre, sir?"

Flannelled fool (rather an absent-minded beggar). "Oh—er—middle an' 'eg!"

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ALL THE YEAR ROUND;

Or, Keeping Up the Ball.

A straight tip and a new sensation.

When September soaks the fields,

And the leaves begin to fall,

Cricket unto football yields,—

That is all!

Yes—in hot or humid weather,

At all seasons of the year,

Life is little without leather

In a sphere.

In the scrimmage, at the stumps,

'Neath the goal, behind the sticks,

Life's a ball, which Summer thumps,

Winter kicks.

Our "terrestrial ball" is round,

(Is it an idea chimerical?)

Man, by hidden instincts bound,

Loves the spherical.

In rotund, elastic bounders,

Plainly the great joy of men is,

Witness cricket, billiards, rounders,

And lawn-tennis.

Classic Title for Dr. Grace.—"The Centurion."

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He. "You're fond of cricket, then?"

She. "Oh, I'm passionately devoted to it!"

He. "What part of a match do you enjoy the most?"

She. "Oh, this part—the promenade!"

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MR. PUNCH KEEPS HIS EYE ON CRICKET

Toast for Tavern Landlords.—The Cricketer, who always runs up a score by his innings.

Appropriate Cricket Ground.—Battersy-Park.

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Things to which Cricketing Members of the Anti-Gambling League are Addicted.—"Pitch" and "Toss."

Dr. W. G. Grace's Favourite Dish.—"Batter pudding."

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At the Eton and Harrow Match.—Simperton. What, you in light blue, Miss Gloriosa! I thought you were Harrovian to the core!

Miss Gloriosa. So I am, but I'm also Cambridge, and as I can't possibly afford two new dresses in one week, I decided to choose the most becoming colour!

[And Simperton of the dark blue was quite satisfied with the explanation.

"FOLLOW ON!"

(A Cricketer's "Catch" Air—"Come Follow!")

First Voice. Come follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow on!

Second Voice. Why then should I follow, follow, follow, why then must I follow, follow on?

Third Voice. When you're eighty runs or more behind our score you follow on!

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"Train up your Parents the Way they Should Go."

—"You know papa has been asked to play in the 'Fathers against the Boys' match?" "Yes, mother. But I hope the boys will win this year. If the fathers win again they'll be so beastly cocky!"

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"'Collapse of Essex.' Dear, dear! I wonder if my property at Ilford is safe?"

[Buys paper to see.

Cricketer's Favourite Fish.—Slips.

The Coup de Grace.—Leg hit for six.

Riddle made "On the Ground."—Why are cricket matches like the backs of cheap chairs? Because they're "fixed to come off".

Seasonable Field Sport.—Leather-hunting.

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Prehistoric Peeps. (A cricket match.) "How's that, umpire?"

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WET-WILLOW

A Song of a Sloppy Season.

(By a Washed-out Willow-Wielder.)

Air—"Titwillow."

In the dull, damp pavilion a popular "Bat"

Sang "Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!"

And I said "Oh! great slogger, pray what are you at,

Singing 'Willow, wet-willow, wet-willow'?

Is it lowness of average, batsman," I cried;

"Or a bad 'brace of ducks' that has lowered your pride?"

With a low-muttered swear-word or two he replied,

"Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!"

He said "In the mud one can't score, anyhow,

Singing willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!

The people are raising a deuce of a row,

Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!

I've been waiting all day in these flannels—they're damp!—

The spectators impatiently shout, shriek, and stamp,

But a batsman, you see, cannot play with a Gamp,

Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!

"Now I feel just as sure as I am that my name

Isn't willow, wet-willow, wet-willow,

The people will swear that I don't play the game,

Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!

My spirits are low and my scores are not high,

But day after day, we've soaked turf and grey sky,

And I sha'n't have a chance till the wickets get dry.

Oh willow, wet-willow, wet-willow!!!"

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CRICKET PROSPECTS

(From Dumb-Crambo Junior's point of view.)

MARROW-BONE CLUB

A DOMESTIC FIXTURE

A RISING PLAYER

A PROMISING YOUNG BOWLER

TRIAL MATCHES

BATTER AND BAWL

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THE LADIES AT LORD'S

Old Style—Early Sixties.

Scene—The Ground and its Accessories.

Superior Creature. Really very pleasant.

Weaker Sex. Oh! charming. So delightful having luncheon al fresco. The lobster salad was capital.

S. C. Very good. And the champagne really drinkable.

W. S. And our chat has been so interesting, Captain Smorltork.

S. C. So pleased. And now, what do you think of the cricket?

W. S. Oh! I haven't time to think of the cricket.

New Style—Late Nineties.

Scene—The Same.

Mere Man. Really rather nice.

Stronger Sex. Quite nice. Capital game, too. Up to county form. That last over was perfect bowling.

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M. M. Yes; and the batting was well above the average.

S. S. Tol-lish. And really, when I come to think of it, Mr. Smorltork-Gossip, you have been also entertaining.

M. M. Proud and honoured! And now, what do you think about the luncheon?

S. S. Oh! I haven't time to think about the luncheon.

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Fair Batter (ætat. 18). "Now, just look here, Algy Jones—none of your patronage! You dare to bowl to me with your left hand again, and I'll box your ears!"

A Match Miscalled.—Considering the style and number of the turn-outs on the ground, and the amount of champagne-cups consumed at Lord's during the Great Public School Cricket Encounter, suppose it were re-christened the Drag and Drinking, instead of the Harrow and Eton, Match?

At the Village Cricket Match.—Umpire (carried away by enthusiasm on seeing the young Squire send a ball hard to leg). Well hit, Master Arthur, well hit! (Remembering himself.) But don't make no short runs!

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CRICKET AT LORD'S

(Hits by Dumb-Crambo, Jun.)

A PATIENT INNINGS

A CUT IN FRONT OF POINT

OVER!

LAST MAN. HIS USUAL FORM

Bait appreciated by both Cricketers and Fishermen.—Lobs.

A Tie.—("Ladies v. Gentlemen.") The Ladies came out as they had gone in, all "Ducks."

And what did the Gentlemen make?—Love.

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THE LADY CRICKETER

(Directions for attaining Perfection.)

Get up a match by saying to some local subaltern that it would be such fun to have a game, and you know a girl who could give points to Grace.

Agree with the youthful warrior that the fun would be increased by allowing the men to play with broom-sticks, and left-handed, and the girls, of course, with bats, and unrestricted.

Arrange your eleven in such a fashion that you come out as captain in the most picturesque costume.

Be careful to "kill" your colleagues' appearance by an artful combination of discordant hues.

Carry out the above scheme with the assistance of a joint committee consisting of two, yourself and the local subaltern.

Arrange, at the last moment, that the men shall only send out six of their team to field.

Manage to put yourself in first, and play with confidence the initial ball.

Amidst the applause of the six fielders you will be clean bowled.

Retire gracefully, and devote the rest of the afternoon to tea and mild flirtation with the five men who have been weeded out.

CURIOUS CRICKET ANOMALY.

When a batsman has piled up a hundred, or more,

Though five twenties he's hit, he has made but "a score."

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CRICKET CATCHES

(By D. Crambo, Junior.)

A FORWARD STYLE

OUT WITH A BEAUTIFUL BAILER

COLLARING THE BOWLING

A PROMINENT PLAYER

SENT BACK WITH A SHOOTER

A DIFFICULT WICKET

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FAIR CRICKETERS

["The growing favour with which athletic exercises are being regarded by those who are still 'the gentler sex,' is evidenced by the rapid adoption of cricket into the roll of those games which may be practised by ladies without the sober world being shocked. In the course of the past Summer there have been several matches."—Standard.]

You may play the game of Cricket, like the men well known to fame,

And be good "all round," like some folks at that fascinating game;

You may bowl like Mr. Spofforth at the Demon's deadly pace,

You may lead a team like Harris, and may bat like Doctor Grace;

But in vain your skill and prowess—can you dare to win the day,

Although hope may spring eternal, when the Ladies come to play?

They have conquered us at Croquet, though philosophers might scoff,

And the masculine intelligence was beaten by "two off."

As a vehicle for flirting we acknowledged all its charms,

And gay soldiers fell before it, although used to war's alarms;

But they held me-thinks their cricket-bats as doughty as their swords,

And they never dreamt of Ladies at the Oval or at Lord's.

Then we turned to Roller-skating, how the God of Love must wink

As he ponders o'er the havoc wrought on many a pleasant rink;

There the Ladies, as their wont is, held indubitable sway,

As they circled like the seagull in as fair and facile way;

And we yielded, though at Prince's woman held all hearts in thrall,

For we thought of our one Empire, that of Cricket—bat and ball.

Comes the era of Lawn Tennis, when the balls spin o'er the net,

What avail the "Renshaw smashes" when the Ladies win the "sett,"

And the boldest of all volleys will be found of little use

When the women gain "advantage," their opponents at the "deuce."

So we leave the lawn to Ladies, it were graceful there to yield;

But we thought that still at Cricket we were masters of the field.

THE LAST BALL OF THE SEASON

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Uninvited.—We had bowled out their best men, and should have won the match, but somebody came on the ground with a confounded hyæna-coloured bull-terrier, who ran after the ball, and wouldn't give it up.

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"Boots and Chambermaid."—Robin (the morning after the cricket supper). "What does this 'B' and 'C' mean, Dick?" Richard (with a headache). "O, brandy an' soda, of course. Ring 'em both, there's a good fellow!"

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Vain the hope, for lo! the Ladies give poor Men no hour of peace.

Can we dare to "pop the question" when they front the "popping-crease"?

Though with "leg before the wicket" your short innings may be o'er,

Will the umpire be as truthful when it's "petticoat before"?

So lay down "the willow," batsmen, and, oh, bowler, leave the wicket,

Ye must yield once more to Woman, for the Ladies now play Cricket!

At the 'Varsity Cricket Match.—Newcomer (to Gent in front). If you would kindly move your head an eighth of an inch, I think that by standing on tip-toe I might be able, between the box-seat and body of that carriage, to ascertain the colour of long leg's cap.

Pudding it Plainly.—Why is a promising cricketer like flour and eggs?

Because he's calculated to make a good batter.

The most remarkable instance of a hybrid animal is the cricket-bat.

The Real "Triple Alliance."—A three-figure innings at cricket.

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Our Village Cricket Club.—We had thirty seconds left before the time for drawing stumps. Our two last men were in, and we wanted one run to tie and two to win. It was the most exciting finish on record.

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