Education a la Kerry Packer

In this day and age, who remembers Kerry Packer, the man who invented one-day World Series cricket? Was his name even mentioned in the latest World Cup tournament now in its closing stages in Africa? Are you old enough to remember the Super Test at the Oval twenty-four years (all but two days) ago, when I wrote about the educational value of allowing all Government schools a holiday to attend the Super Test.

“If anything were to gladden the hearts of the business community in general and cinema owners in particular, and cause the Chamber of Commerce to count another centennial blessing (2003, only think, the Chamber celebrates 125 years of existence next year!), it was  probably the thought of thousands of schoolchildren and their teachers glued to their small screens — or transistors — or lining up outside the Oval to see World Series Cricket at the Queen’s Park Oval  on March 16.

The Ministry of Education and Culture had seized the chance of a  free, practical lesson by giving children in all Government schools time off to learn the dollars-and-sense of showmanship in sport. However, looking at the crowd waving to, or studiously ignoring TTT’s cameras, it seems that schoolchildren were not the only segment of the population eager for education in the Oval. Although it seemed a shame to rob a schoolchild of a seat, obviously some adults had to attend the Super Test to explain the finer points of the game to six-year-olds. Even with the entire teaching service on hand at the Oval to keep order and help the little ones keep score, some responsible parents thought it their duty to leave their desks in government offices to give private classes on the state of the wicket to their nine- to thirteen-year-old sons.

Business executives, lawyers, doctors, accountants, office staff, factory workers and taxi-drivers were there, too, each one airing an expert opinion on strategy and tactics to teenaged daughters, while keeping an eye on young Errol or Sonny, Tom, Dick or Harry who was more interested in the girls improving their tan (or whatever) than what was taking place on the pitch. Those who, for one reason or another, weren’t able to go to, or get in to the Oval had close-up views of each delivery, batsman’s stroke and world-class fielding — courtesy TTT — while the rest used their imagination as cricket commentators painted a picture for those with transistors pressed against their ears (2003 note for the young, this was before the days of Walkman radios). Only the unloved children were left to wander the streets and pack the cinemas of Port-of-Spain, San Fernando and other urban areas. What  happened to the deprived children in Cedros, Moruga, Manzanilla, Plum Mitan, Matura, Toco, Gran Riviere and Matelot on that day, one can only guess.

One hopes that TTT and radio commentators remembered the frightening size, age-range and varied abilities of our school population — and their responsibilities to the children who could not go to the Oval. That was the supreme test of the educational value of TV and radio. One hopes the electronic media rose to the occasion. Teachers who were watching TV or who had gone to the Oval to see that their charges got the full benefit of practical work in the stands, were probably using the breaks between overs to prepare for the follow-up lessons in class on Monday.

But, one wonders . . .
Has Errol, aged six, been asked to read something like this? “Come Er-rol, come. Se-sa-me Street is o-ver. See the chil-dr-en at the O val. See the men in white. They are play-ing cri-cket. Oh! Oh! The bats-man is out. That was a good catch!” Or . . .If Erica, aged ten, wrote this in her English lesson. “Last Friday we had a holiday to see cricket. Dad went to the Oval. I stayed at home with Mummy. We turned on the TV. The grass was green. Some of the cricketers wore crash helmets like my brother who rides a motor cycle. They did not show any cartoons.” Or, maybe . . What did Joyce, aged fourteen, write on this subject set for English homework after an afternoon at the Oval?: EITHER a) Imagine you are Clive Lloyd. Describe your feelings when Australia beat West Indies by 24 runs in the Third World Series Cricket Test. OR b) The Kerry Packer Super Test — is it cricket? What do you think? Was Boysie, aged sixteen, forced to strain his brains on this problem in New Math: “Bright is at deepish mid-on. Chappell is bowling to Richards. Compute Chappell’s speed and delivery, the angle of Richards’ bat and the force applied to his stroke. Calculate the trajectory and velocity of the ball and draw a graph to plot the course of Bright’s run to hold the catch.”

Were school leavers of either sex with ambitions to be the worlds’ best all round journalists asked to complete these assignments?: 1. For the women’s page — a report on fashions at the Oval 2. For the Sports’ page — comment on the Super Test with reference to the  psychological pressures in World Series cricket.  3. Business and finance pages — report on gate receipts, expenses,  spin offs for concessionaires, loss of production in private and public sectors and the net profits (after tax and including broadcasting rights) for Mr Kerry Packer. Oh yes, there’s no doubt that Friday, March 16 could have been a most educational day for the future citizens of our republic . . . But was it?”