Slip catching is one of most difficult job every young cricket thought. Cricketers have a way of maneuvering or drifting into their favorite fielding positions, like I did (Bobby Simpson).
They usually end up in the places which make them happy. If they are unhappy about Occupying a certain position, good skipper usually can sort it out for them. I tried to avoid fielding in the slips when I was young, but since the day when NSW skipper Keith Miller stood me there against the accepted etiquette of the game (I was only on the field as a substitute) I have studied the position with increasing fascination.
A good slip fieldsman senses a catch just a fraction earlier than a bad one, and this anticipation stems mainly from concentration. From first slip I watched the ball all the way and from the pitch of the ball I judged if the batsman if he did was to it not quite reach the pitch of the ball, might get a catching chance off the edge.
Most good slip fieldsmen get more satisfaction from slow bowl- ing because catches from fast bowlers are easier to take. With the fast bowlers you stand there and swat at the catches as they come. Slow bowling chances are a lot harder to take and for that reason more rewarding. One of the most vital factors in taking slip catches is to stand at the right place. Often when I pass through public parks I see youngsters standing in positions in which they could not possibly take catch.
The practice adopted by first class sides is to stagger the fields- men behind the wicket. The wicket- keeper stands a yard in front of first slip, second slip a yard in front of third slip, third slip a yard in front of fourth slip, if any. In this way if a man in front misses chance the man behind him might get a crack at it. Far too many cricketers, even in first grade, stand in line in the slips, which means they can not cover nearly as much ground as those in the staggered formation.
For me the best results came from standing as still as possible so that I had a better chance of sighting the ball. Often,. though, I have taken catches which had no idea of getting to – I study with amazement pictures of myself diving or catching the ball after it has passed me. In first slip I stood on a line with the outside edge of the popping crease, and this meant that the wicketkeeper and I were about five feet apart. It was essential that I gave him plenty of room to move and I came to rely on his judgement in leaving me to take my catches without interference, or snatching gloves obstructing my way.
Hold your hands cupped, fingers pointing towards the grass, but with the fingertips of each hand in a line. Your hands should be at right angles to the path the ball will travel into them. Players who hold their fingertips towards the ball are called “duck flappers” and apart from hurt fingers few of them ever catch anything important.
Good catchers have “soft” hands, the sense which enable them “suck” the ball into their fingers and palms. Those with “hard” hands catch the ball more on the rebound than in hands which “give” or relax in the fingers and wrist as the ball arrives. Hard-handed players take the ball with a resounding smack, but a great catcher like Neil Harvey never seemed to make a whisper as he plucked the ball from the air.
I often let the chance that came straight at my chest, that my body and then I clutched the ball to my torso. I don’t miss them this way. I cannot recall dropping more than a couple using this method in my entire career. Many top class players use this method. The chest high catches are the toughest, although they look the easiest from the crowd, far harder than catches you take with a dive. I took a pace or two backward when a batsman slashed at a ball. Generally, this is the only hope you have of catching a slash because they usually come to you head high and up close you have no chance of pulling them down.
