MY ‘THORIAN’ connections go back half a century - Mahinda Wijesinghe

Way back in the 1970’s when David (Sansoni), Goliath of Aitken Spence & Co. Ltd., Colombo, waddled into the Executives’ lunch-room, many a lunch-plate seemed to wilt and wither – as his ample waist would bear indisputable testimony. The other day, when he requested of me to contribute a few words for the Sydney Old Thomians dance souvenir, I thought I should pen some memories I have had with my friends from STC. So here goes. Firstly, let’s get one thing straight. Boys who attend Royal College - or the alumni - are referred to as ‘Royalists’. No problems there. Thomians, on the other hand, are known as ‘Thomians’ or sometimes as ‘Thoras’; the latter a ‘fishy’ term, no doubt, but with the school also being known as ‘the school by the sea’, this possibly fits. David, for instance, compares favourably with a whale – a blue (and black) type? However, to make matters easy, I feel a bit of hybridization is called for. Hence, the boys hailing from the college that sport the ‘blue, black and blue’ flag, I suggest, should in future be referred to as THORIANS.

My association with the ‘other school’ goes back to over half a century. First was when I played in the 1957 Royal-Thomian cricket match and covered myself with glory. How? I became a favourite of the Thorians by steadfastly refusing to contribute a single run to the Royal College total. Next, I consolidated this hard-won affection they had for me by repeating my spectacular feat in 1959. I am now wondering whether the current invitation for a contribution to the Thorian souvenir is based on my batting magnanimity, never mind my inherent (dis)ability. In addition to the so-called ‘grit’, the Thorians always seem to bandy around, I concede they do possess gratitude, belatedly, though it seems; over half a century to be exact. The latest invitation is yet another example of how the denizens from ‘the school by the sea’, have to lean on the ‘bhoys’ from the Central School for support. <smile> Example No.1. Some years ago, Head of STC prep school and a dear friend of mine, Yohesan Casie Chetty, invited Mike Tissera & me to address the school assembly on the eve of a Royal-Thomian encounter. While walking into the school hall, Mike dead-panned: “I say Mahinda, do you chaps at Royal College stage assemblies like we do?” Round 1 to STC.

After Yohesan had introduced Michael & me to the students, it was my turn on the mic. After the usual preliminaries of extolling the noble traditions of the game (long gone through the window to the Bank accounts of international TV moguls whilst not forgetting the (fat) crumbs to the players) I recounted the friendly relations the two schools have maintained over the many years and that we should continue to do so. You know, the usual rhetoric glibly mouthed by diplomats, world leaders, politicians et al, before they come to the sticking point. The audience was now lulled into a feeling of…how can I describe it? ...got it! Just like the state of euphoria David would be in after polishing off three to four lunches, 2 in one sitting – of course – and is puffing on a cigarette he would have pinched from his neighbour. Oh Yes! I’ll never forget his cherubic smile while his chair, by now, was vainly trying to accommodate his you-know-what. That is another story.

Meanwhile at the STC prep school assembly, after hearing my opening remarks, Michael may now have been nursing a bit of remorse for the ‘crack’ he had earlier made at me. This was the calm before the storm. Very casually and calmly, I next meandered, though, into a sticky subject that practically awakened the unsuspecting audience, namely, the (in)famous 9-run match. Immediately, both Michael & Yohesan, I felt, were sitting on the edges of their seats. From the back of my neck – Thorians do not have eyes there – I saw the duo was straining their ears to hear “what this mad b__ may come out with”. Not wanting to disappoint them, this is what I said:“Despite the friendly relations the two schools have enjoyed over these many years, there is one bone of contention that keeps sticking out like a sore thumb, namely the contentious 9-run match of 1885. However, recently our specially appointed researchers – financed by Royal loyalists - completed a careful study of the old records in the archives, and indeed, one of our zealous bloodhounds claim that he had, interviewed a player who participated in this game, now resting six feet under at the Borella cemetery. In other words, our researchers succeeded, literally and metaphorically, in unearthing the true situation.” (Meanwhile, a thud was heard. Michael, had fallen off his chair. Fortunately, some member of the staff held on to Yohesan and prevented the ignominy) “Our sleuths” I concluded “had discovered that (a) both scorers were Thorians and (b) not surprisingly, could not count past 9, and so……” It may have been my imagination, but I perceived that at the end of my speech, the applause was rather subdued. Michael did not speak to me for quite sometime, and the usually, ever-smiling Yohesan was directing dark looks at me. I really could not fathom the reason why?

Example no.2. Somewhere in 1998, genial Gerald (de Alwis, brother of the late Neville) invited me for the opening of the new cricket grounds at Gurutalawa where a cricket match between, I believe, the Baldies and the Oldies was to be played as an auspicious christening event for the new venue. Chandra Schaffter led one team while Michael Tissera (yes, the very same one who fell off the chair in the earlier episode) captained the other, while a few boys from the Gurutalawa school XI were slotted in to perform the allimportant job of running round the field – gambolling lambs among the atrophied foxes. It was billed as a 3-day affair with transport and accommodation to and from Colombo, all provided. My immediate reaction was to politely explain to Gerald that I was averse to leave my daughter and wife (in that order) in Colombo for 3 days. “So what is the problem” shrilled Gerald “just bring them along and all of you can occupy the Headmaster’s bungalow.” My daughter had not previously traveled by train, so I thought I could make use of this opportunity to kill two birds, and informed Gerald that we would come up by train, and off we went. What an unforgettable event it turned out to be, and Gerald (bless him) was the perfect host.

The match began with all pomp and pageantry. There were the hewisi drummers, Kandyan dancers, a minipandal, lighting of oil lamps, and a guard-of-honour provided by the students. Probably, Gerald must have informed the school that this is the protocol necessary when a Royalist arrives to adorn S.Thomas’ College. The only other former Royalist in our midst was Rev. Kenneth Fernando, the Bishop of Colombo and Chairman of the STC Board of governors who joined us later. See? As I mentioned earlier the Thorians cannot do without us. It must have been a red-letter day for STC for two such luminaries to be amongst them. Coming to the match, yes, one side must have won, after all, it was a limited-overs game. Nobody cared except possibly the schoolboys. For the first time in my life I was playing in my bifocal spectacles. Then, as luck would have it, a simple skier came my way and I was under it – or so I thought. I stood looking up dutifully with my cupped hands, but the ball fell a good ten feet in front of me. As they say, “untouched by human hands.” There were hoots and derisive laughter from all sides. You know, first it was Catullus, the Roman lyrical poet (84 BC – 54 BC), who observed: Risu inepto res ineptior nulla est. (There is nothing more foolish than a foolish laugh.) And didn’t the Irish poet, dramatist and novelist, Oliver Goldsmith (1728 – 74), many centuries later echo: “The loud laughter that spoke the vacant mind?” However it was to my daughter that I had to redeem my tattered reputation. “Shame Thaththie missing that catch” she said. Now, I had to put her right. “Darling” I said in the manner of the all-knowing sage, “a catch is deemed to have been ‘dropped’ if it has touched the fielder’s hands. As you saw, that just did not happen” and I beat a hasty retreat.

There were a few cameo performances during play. Adjudicator Bradman Weerakoon had little difficulty in nominating the winners of the key match awards. Our skipper Chandra Schaffter, having almost completed his Biblical span of life at that time, yet bowled in the manner of his salad days. Fittingly, he won the bowling prize. Michael, not showing any wear or tear from that fall off the chair, stroked an elegant half-century as only he can and carried away the Man of the Match award while Anura Tennekoon, as is his wont, gave a perfect demonstration of batting as per the MCC coaching manual and bagged the batting prize. However, poor Bradman had had a hard time in deciding the recipient for the fielding prize. As he explained to the gathering: “Ladies and Gentlemen, it was not easy to decide to whom I should award the fielding prize. There were so many who were vying for this prize but after much deliberation and soulsearching I decided to make this award to our visitor, old Royalist Mahinda Wijesinghe who showed all of us here HOW NOT TO FIELD.” Later, I had to a lot of explaining to do to my daughter.

Anyway, for Bradman’s elucidation, and to others whose “loud laughter that spoke their vacant minds” when this award was made to me, I will quote a similar instance experienced by none other than Malcolm Hilton. A left-arm spinner by trade, Hilton was a professional cricketer who played for Lancashire in the English county championship. In the summer of 1948 when Bradman’s ‘Invincibles’ were mauling England ‘black and blue’ (No, not the Thorians), Hilton was a mere 19-year old stripling of a lad when the Australians met Lancashire at Manchester. The left-arm spinner covered himself with glory by dismissing The Don in each innings before the Australian skipper could even reach a half-century. No mean feat that. The self-same Hilton now describes what happened to him under similar circumstances as his fellow left-arm spinner (that’s me) endured exactly 50 years later at Gurutalawa. Let Hilton describe the incident in his own words: “I’d been running like a stag for two whole minutes and she’s still going up and up, and then she starts drifting the other way, so I set off back, and soon I’m running round in circles thinking “booger you”. And then she starts dropping with ice all around it and I’m still tryin’ to get under it and I’m shouting all t’time “she’s mine, she’s mine” to get others out of t’way. And then she finally drops and I dive for her. The next thing I know I’ve knocked down t’wicket-keeper, two men in the 4 leg-trap and one set of t’stumps and t’bloody ball drops ten feet away missing square-leg umpire by a whisker. And I’m laying there with all this debris around me and I look up and there’s my skipper looking down at me and he bellows: “What other tricks dost thou know Hilton?”

Note the common factors. Both Hilton and I were left-arm spinners and on each occasion the ball dropped ten feet in front. The only difference being that Hilton was not wearing bifocals. Admittedly, Hilton accomplished far more than what I did in his quest for the elusive ball. But, to receive a fielding prize for having dropped a catch? Ah! That only a Royalist could have achieved, acknowledged by the opposition and in their den as well. Another instance of when ‘even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer.’

Webmaster note: Thank You Mahinda for being such a great sport and kindly agreeing to this re-post from our Sydney\ACT Dance souvenir 2009. Putting aside our Roy Tho rivalry and banter, we marvel at the amazing work you have done in raising awareness within the international umpiring sphere and for being the veritable walking cricket encyclopedia.