Mr Studd at the Oval

“Know ye not that they that run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? Even so run; that ye may attain. And every man that striveth in the games exerciseth self-control in all things. Now they do it to receive a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible.” — 1 Corinthians 9:24-25 (ASV)

Charlie had been converted. Then, by his own later account, he went cold for about six years. He never doubted he was saved. He just didn’t let it cost him anything. Jesus described seed that falls among thorns, where “the cares of the world, and the deceitfulness of riches, and the lusts of other things entering in, choke the word, and it becometh unfruitful.” In Charlie’s case the thorns weren’t wicked. They were the pleasant things of a rich young man’s life, and above all, cricket.

He went up to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1879, and he was no scholar. But he was one of the best cricketers in England. He played for Cambridge from 1880 to 1883 and for Middlesex, and he and his brothers Kynaston and George captained the University side in three seasons running. In first-class cricket he scored 4,391 runs, with eight centuries, and took 444 wickets, most of it in five summers.

The summer of 1882 was his best. A touring team from Australia swept through England, led by Billy Murdoch, with the fast bowler Fred Spofforth, whom the papers nicknamed the Demon. Cambridge was one of the few sides to beat them. Charlie made 118 and 17 not out, and took eight wickets. On 14 August he completed the double, a thousand runs and a hundred wickets in one season. Only the great W. G. Grace had done it before, and the season’s records say Charlie’s hundredth wicket was Grace himself. He was twenty-one.

Then came the Test at the Oval on 28 and 29 August 1882. Spofforth bowled him for nought in the first innings. In the second, England needed only 85 to win, but Spofforth tore through them. For reasons still argued about, the captain held Charlie back until number ten. He went in when the eighth wicket fell, and before he faced a ball the ninth went too. The last man, Ted Peate, swung at Harry Boyle, scored two, and a few balls later was bowled. Australia won by seven runs. Charlie walked off not out, without facing a single ball.

A few days later a London paper printed a mock obituary of English cricket, saying the body would be cremated and the ashes taken to Australia. That joke gave the contest its name. That winter Charlie and George toured Australia with Ivo Bligh’s team, which went to win the Ashes back and did. His Test record was modest, and he never played for England after February 1883.

One detail tells you about his world. When Peate was asked why he hadn’t tried to give the strike to his partner, every version of his answer, in substance, is that he couldn’t trust Mr Studd. Mister. Peate was a professional, older and more experienced. Studd was a gentleman, and gentlemen were called Mister. Charlie grew up being deferred to by poorer, older men and took it as natural. James wrote, “My brethren, hold not the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of persons.” That habit of command would follow him to China and Africa.

Studd never taught that games were sinful. He told young Christians to play and enjoy them with thanks. His complaint against himself was that cricket had taken the place of Christ. Paul didn’t sneer at athletes training months for a crown of leaves. He asked why Christians wouldn’t work as hard for something that lasts.

Think about what gets your best hours: a sport, a game, grades, followers. None of those are wrong. The question is what’s at the centre.

One thing to do this week: track for three days where your best energy goes. Then pick one small, regular thing to give God that same seriousness, like ten minutes of reading or praying before your phone.