by Eardley Lieversz

Without heroes a young man cannot dream. Without dreams one cannot aspire to great deeds. The Royal – Thomian provided me with my first heroes. Heroes make one take flights of fantasy, in the absence of which childhood is impoverished.

Heroes and demi Gods

Richard Benaud and Norman O’Neill became my cricketing alter ego and idol, respectively, in 1959. But long before that the names Nirmalingam, Jothilingam, and Perimpanayagam were imprinted in my mind by my father, and I saw them as the equivalent of the three Ws of the West Indies, gallantly taking the fight to the enemy. Later I discovered that Jothilingam scored a century in the 1956 big-match while Perimpanayagam scored three consecutive centuries in the same season.

The first innings I remember was Michael Wille’s 121 in 1957, which I observed from under the sight screen at the tennis court end, keeping company with a Thomian friend who, lacking a ticket had to be sneaked in by my father. I distinctly remember Wille’s habit of strolling to leg between deliveries, not unlike Ted Dexter. Although I was never able to establish the truth of it, I am still moved by my father’s remark that, before scoring his century, Wille slept on his late father’s bed. The poignancy of that remark made the Royal – Thomian a place of magic, mystery, gallantry and sentimentality.

A literary event

The cricket souvenir was an item of cultural and literary importance. What captivated me were the erudite articles by writers who wrote under the nom de plumes of Daedalus, Diogenes and Ananias, and those contributed by Royal all rounder Asoka Samarajiwa, who prefaced one of his articles with a verse from Lewis Carroll’s The Walrus and Carpenter – a literary gem which was highly inspirational. These authors who expressed themselves in the idiom of classicism inhabited a parallel universe to those whose material was decidedly prosaic. My desire to contribute to the souvenir became as great as my hope to be featured in it. Today, my library is bigger than I ever dreamt it would be. Yet the school cricket souvenirs sit proudly amidst books on everything from tank battles of WWII to the birth of rock n’ roll.

The Royal – Thomian was democratic because anyone could be an integral part of it by contributing to the souvenir or just being a character. Sarath Samarasinghe once turned up at the Oval with a trumpet after rain brought a premature end to a game and I thought he was pretty cool. So, if I failed to get an article published I could still aspire to be a Royal and big match character.

The Royal – Thomian community

In the closely knit English speaking community which was Colombo and Kandy in the fifties and sixties, most suburbs had students attending one of the eight schools involved in big matches. Add St. Benedict’s and Wesley to the mix, and school cricket was a common topic of conversation amongst Sri Lanka’s anglicised multi-ethnic community. Stories and traditions were passed down to Royalists and Thomians with their first tentative introduction to the game. Royalists born after 1963 will learn from their parents and grandparents about Malalasekera’s century. Likewise, my father spoke highly about Neil Joseph, taking pride in partnering Joseph during one of his two Royal – Thomian centuries. And through him I learnt about other famous Royal cricketers (Chippy, Sargo, FC, Barney, Mahes et al).

While at Royal Primary, through word of mouth, souvenir articles, and direct observation I developed a pantheon of active demi-gods which included players like Nanda and Lalith Senananayake, Lorenz Pereira, Mahinda Wijesinghe, Perayerawar, Sahabandu, Sarath Samarasinghe, Michael Dias, Nihal Kodituwakku and N.J.S. de Mel. When Lorenz walked past where I was waiting to be picked up by my Dad, carrying his Gun & Moore bat, I obtained a glimpse of royalty. Finally, in 1962 when my cousin Darrell was captain I could pretend that I had direct access to royalty.

From 1956 to 1963 I lived down Gregory’s Avenue, Colombo 2, where the majority of households had students attending Royal. But the rivalry was still played out within households which had one son attending STC. For instance, when Royal ended the first day of the 1959 Royal – Thomian two wickets down with no runs on the board, Dr Ajitha Wijeysundera’s Thomian brother pinned the scorecard from next morning’s newspaper, with six noughts one under the other looking like a chain (danwela in Sinhalese), on the wall near Ajitha’s bedroom, just to remind the latter of the dire straits Royal was in.

At school one belonged to the Royal – Thomian community in the fullest sense. The barriers of age were temporarily suspended at the Royal tent and often, during times of grave crisis, as when we feared loss in the 1965 game, members of the Mustangs and students consoled each other.

After leaving school my ego centred Royal – Thomian community shrank considerably. The generation change meant that in 1980 a young Royalist approached me and and offered to fill me in on what the Royal – Thomian was all about. That community is now scattered but comes together in different parts of the Anglosphere at old boys games, where those most passionate about the tradition are those who played very little cricket at school but wish to revive the magical moments of their youth.

The legend of the Royal – Thomian is sustained not merely by the official encounter, but by old Royalists and Thomians getting together in all parts of the world and reliving the Royal – Thomian experience. It is not so much the quality of their game that matters, but their love of it, and their desire to be part of a grand tradition. They also write the articles which bring far flung members of the community together via the internet, often in controversial circumstances. It is a broader community less mired in time and place, some members of which are total strangers, but better able to articulate and disseminate ideas and opinions. The Royal – Thomian experience is not restricted to those who played in it, but owned by all who once were there or who were excited by the knowledge of it.

The Royal – Thomian is a journey which comes around full circle. I recently got in contact with the grandson of Hellings Ellawela after he responded to a reference I made in an article to his grandfather’s offer of a chair to me after I let the ball through my legs in front of the Mustangs tent in my first Royal – Thomian as a player. Forty seven years after my most embarrassing Royal – Thomian incident I find myself on the verge of visiting the place where my tormentor was born, grew up and made his mark.

Coming out of my shell

The Royal – Thomian was where I first ventured outside my comfort zone. As a spectator I tried my best to make a fool of myself in order to be noticed. As a player I made decisions which could either cement my reputation or lead me to eternal condemnation.

The Royal – Thomian spirit

Whatever role one plays in the game, from spectator to player to souvenir contributor, it opens up possibilities which inform the rest of one’s life. From a young age the Royal – Thomian was an adventure – including climbing up the radio tower outside the ground to plant the school flag. My search for sensationalism, from living in remote Sri Lanka to cycling Oz, owes a lot to the horizons opened up by the Royal – Thomian. After leaving school I asked myself “What can one do after the Royal – Thomian?” In 1972 I was travelling around Sri Lanka watching the countryside pass by, with my legs hanging out of the entrance to a train carriage, obtaining the same excitement as I did prancing around in an old crock.

Many of us never play a game of cricket after the Royal-Thomian or even attend a Royal-Thomian after leaving school. I myself have only attended two Royal – Thomians since 1972. But we carry the spirit of the Royal-Thomian with us wherever we go. We may leave the Royal-Thomian but the Royal-Thomian never leaves us. We may forget scores and events which took place in the middle, but the characters that enriched the atmosphere, from Kadalay to the groundsmen, coaches, masters-in-charge and the various eccentrics, are firmly etched in our memories and fondly remembered.

A unique institution

The inception of the Royal – Thomian one hundred and thirty five years ago gave rise to the term “big match”, a term as unique to Sri Lanka, as ”test” is to Anglo-Australian cricketing rivalry. Amidst social change and upheaval, and ideological attacks on cricket as a colonial legacy, the game has shed its elitist image and become the national game. Correspondingly, the big-match concept has taken hold in all urban areas in a manner unmatched by any other cricket playing country. No cricketing concept in the world has refashioned something borrowed from England and made it its own, and then used it as a cultural unifier, to bring all language groups, religions and ethnicities together. The “big match” is now a national phenomenon with an indigenous flavour, and no longer frowned upon as an elite event personifying the values of an English speaking minority. The Royal – Thomian has a rich and all encompassing heritage which enables a person like me to embrace it without apologies.

In addition to defining one’s identity the Royal – Thomian influences ones outlook on life and gives one a sense of self worth wherever one lives. I am edified by the knowledge that an institution which was such an important part of my young life continues to prosper, unlike the Eton Harrow encounter which has now shrunk to a one day game. I feel special in belonging to the global Royal – Thomian family whose collective memory encompasses a broad gamut of observations – from the sublime to the ridiculous. For instance, the catch which Samarage took in 1969 is still put under the microscope because it was a one off sighting comparable to Halley’s Comet and truly lifted the souls of Royalists in attendance.

The Royal-Thomian as a metaphor

From personal experience I can say that every adventure I do and every celebration I am involved in, particularly if there is dancing involved, is an extension of the thrill and attention I sought at the Royal-Thomians, both as spectator and player. The hundreds of toots and waves I receive per day as I cycle through the Australian outback is a throwback to the drive many of us made to the Wanatamulla Oval amidst cheers, waves and words of encouragement.

Despite its benign influence the Royal – Thomian still haunts my dreams with alternate outcomes and is still capable of waking me, bathed in a sweat of fear for what might have been. It is a ghost that one can never quite expunge and yet the Royal – Thomian inspires me to be exceptional in every aspect of my life. I can never settle for anything less.

(Eardley Lieversz captained the Royal team which won the big match in 1969)