Explaining the beauty of Test cricket to Americans

I have lived in the United States for three years and have not tired of explaining cricket to Americans.

Cricket is an exotic and unknown curiosity to Americans, but being the sport-mad folk they are, many are eager to learn more.

My explaining tactics are to relate everything back to baseball. In no time at all, the basics become clear.

“I like that you have something solid to aim at instead of just air, as with a strike,” exclaimed one satisfied pupil.

“Indeed, the death rattle does make for more excitement than a strike in my humble opinion,” I responded.

“And you can hit the ball 360 degrees, as in, there are no fouls?”

“Correct, although often when you hit it behind you, it’s a mistake and there is a good chance you’ll get caught out.”

“Ohhhh.”

“And if you clear the fence, like a home run, you get six runs right away.”

“Ahhhh.”

But one aspect about cricket that seems to fascinate them more than any other:

“Is it true you play cricket for three days straight, and it’s just one match?” they ask.

“Actually it’s five days,” I respond.

“Wow!”

“It’s called Test cricket, and it’s even possible to finish tied at the end.”

It is here that the lived empathy usually stops. Most Americans, as with most people who did not grow up steeped in cricket, cannot imagine how someone could love a game that takes five days to play and can still finish without a result.

I love all forms of cricket, but Test cricket is my love of loves. I would venture that Test cricket is the purest expression of the game, but such a comparative statement is unnecessary. It is what it is. So why is Test cricket so wonderful?

Ebbs and flows
My father met my mother in a pub the day after he broke up with his 21-year-old fiancé, “drowning his sorrows” as my mother put it.

My father endeared himself to my mother with his self-pride by drunkenly explaining the difference between a chartered accountant, he, and a normal, inferior accountant. My mother impressed my father with her knowledge of cricket, although I suspect she kept her swooning over Dougie Walters to a minimum that night.

My mother loves Test cricket because it ebbs and flows. If you wanted a Test cricket lecture in my house, the surefire way to get one was to ask Mum “who’s winning?” in the early days of a Test match.

“Such and such is doing well, but that could change,” she would reply. And in a good game, it did change.

We all remember the rearguard actions by a wagging tail – Steve Waugh and someone – or Shane Warne bringing us back into the match with a killer over.

The space Test cricket gives to ebb and flow helps create a shared community event. “What’s the cricket score?” is a great way to bond with your fellow man or woman.

The drama does not require constant attention, and this is a good thing.

On any given day of Test cricket, you might read the paper about yesterday’s action, catch the first hour of the first session on TV, listen to the next 30 minutes on the radio in the car, go for a swim, and then get out of the water and ask the bloke with the transistor radio if Ponting got his century.

If the answer is “he’s on 96 now”, you don’t even need to ask permission to stand there and await events.

Later on, you might go home you go for lunch, with one of the family going straight to the TV: a cry of “Ponting’s out!” would ring around the house.

“Oh, well, at least he got his century”. Too bloody right.

The point is that tuning in and tuning out again is part of the fun. Discovering that something dramatic has happened and that all of a sudden the match is on a knife edge, or back from the brink, or put on the brink, is so exciting it’s almost worth having missed th event that put it there in the first place!

And, of course, you don’t always miss it.

Finally, who hasn’t had an afternoon game of pool at the pub with the cricket on in the corner, especially when it’s one of those glorious Perth Tests that finish late? One can be interested in the game, but nevertheless – as it is on for five days – it doesn’t require your full attention. So you play your pool, pausing, cue still in hand, when drama is brewing.

In saying this, there is always the feeble run back from the bar at the SCG – spilling most of the beers on the way – having heard the roar of the crowd, only to be disappointed at having missed the wicket falling.

True grit
Test cricket is a great showcase of gritty human drama. Could a young, fresh-faced actor have pulled off the character Rooster Cogburn in True Grit? No way. True grit takes time to surface, in life as in cricket.

Anyone can swing away wildly and make a few quick runs, but who can stay focused for hours under the harshest conditions? A Test cricketer, that’s who.

Think of a batsman under the pump against a quality attack and a moving ball, digging in his heals and refusing to give in, despite playing and missing and getting hit on the body.

Think of the bowler who finds the energy for an unexpectedly fast yorker just before stumps, despite having toiled in the hot sun all day.

And then there’s the tail ender who hangs on for an hour to force a draw. Do I need point out to this audience that a draw can (key word) be one of the most exciting things to happen in a Test match?

The survival of Test cricket
I’m not going to waste your time with a long whinge about the shortening attention span of kids these days, and the instant gratification world we live in.

Suffice to say, I’m only 31 and I’ve seen this become extreme even in my lifetime. We all know it is a real challenge for us as a society.

What I will say is that I hope we can push back by trying to keep Test cricket.

To keep Test cricket, we must maintain what’s good and unique about it. We must encourage Test batting, like we saw recently from Matt Renshaw. Too many Tests are won and lost predictably by whoever is under pressure first. Dig in and fight back boys, and don’t be afraid to take your time and hold up an end!

As for us spectators, we need to take a load off for the afternoon and watch some true grit on the TV. We need to put the radio on in our offices. We need to take our kids to the Test instead of the T20, and make them switch off the smartphone (or not!). There are surely countless other ways to support the game.

Test cricket won’t survive if it is a two inning version of an ODI, anymore than ODIs would survive as a 50 over T20.

So Roarers, what do you love about Test cricket?