Beyond a Boundary: The classic book on cricket by C.L.R. James

Beyond a Boundary (1963) is C.L.R. James's classic memoir and exegesis of cricket in the colonial West Indies. James (1901-1989), a native of Trinidad who spent many of his adult years in Britain, was involved with cricket as a player, critic and commentator. He was also an historian, novelist, cultural and political critic, and activist. In Beyond a Boundary he describes how irrevocably enmeshed the sport was in his own development, as well as in the political, social and racial struggles of his time. 

Beyond a Boundary was published in Britain in 1963 and in the US in 1983. My copy is from 1993, published by Duke University Press.

I wish I was knowledgeable enough to discuss how this has all played out in the fifty-plus years since Beyond a Boundary was published. I'm not, but I want to offer to you this statement by James explaining the premise of this book. It speaks to the roles sport can play in defining a society and the points of struggle, of contest, and of contradiction within it. 

I haven’t the slightest doubt that the clash of race, caste and class did not retard but stimulated West Indian cricket. I am equally certain that in those years social and political passions, denied normal outlets, expressed themselves so fiercely in cricket (and other games) precisely because they were games. Here began my personal calvary. The British tradition soaked deep into me was that when you entered the sporting arena you left behind you the sordid compromises of everyday existence. Yet for us to do that we would have had to divest ourselves of our skins. From the moment I had to decide which club I would join the contrast between the ideal and the real fascinated me and tore at my insides. Nor could the local population see it otherwise. The class and racial rivalries were too intense. They could be fought out without violence or much lost except pride and honour. Thus the cricket field was a stage on which selected individuals played representative roles which were charged with social significance. I propose now to place on record some of the characters and as much as I can reproduce (I remember everything) of the social conflict. I have been warned that some of these characters are unknown and therefore unlikely to interest non-West Indian readers. I cannot think so.

He was right in that. Beyond a Boundary certainly held my interest, even though its "players" were not only unknown to me (as is cricket, largely, I'm afraid!) but also long departed from the planet. The circumstances James describes are fascinating and, though intricate, they resonate widely. I learned a lot from this book.

A bit about athletes and activism

If any of my players sit on the bench for the national anthem, they will sit there the rest of the game. 

--John Tortorella, coach of the U.S. national team in this fall's World Cup of Hockey

John Tortorella is but one of countless people, inside and outside sports, who have weighed in on 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick's decision to call attention to racial injustice by sitting (or more recently, taking a knee) during the pre-game playing of the national anthem. But being a hockey fan, my ears pricked up when I heard about Tortorella's stance, and being the author of a hockey novel, I immediately tried to put myself in the shoes (or rather, the skates) of Torts's players.

It's common to assume that professional athletes--at least the ones who play in the big-money men's leagues--are privileged, and that their wealth and status afford them protection that the rest of us don't enjoy. I believe that that's true in some cases, yet these athletes remain vulnerable in other ways. 

This vulnerability is one of the themes in my novel Seeking the Center. While the story revolves around Agnes, a character who is locked out of professional hockey altogether because she's female (we're talking the mid-1990s, before the CWHL or NWHL), many of the characters are male professional players who love the game yet struggle to feel comfortable within the cultural confines of their locker rooms and leagues. 

Claude, for example, knows that he must watch his behavior on and off the ice. He's not a top-skill kind of player and he understands that he's considered replaceable. The fact that he's not white makes his position even more tenuous, as Coach obliquely indicates. Likewise, Owen's no fan of the ugly misogyny and racism that he witnesses on the ice and in the dressing room, but he doesn't feel that he has the option to speak out against it. 

These athletes are members of teams, relatively small groups of "guys" (even the ubiquitous use of the term "guys" as opposed to "men" seems to reflect something about the way they're supposed to think of themselves and each other) situated within relatively small communities (leagues) in which conformity and the financial bottom line are paramount. Positions on these teams are highly competitive and no matter how great a player's skill, his days are numbered and he is ultimately disposable. 

Deciding when to stand up and say something (or when to sit down) can be a difficult calculation, and I have to acknowledge the courage of those who take action. For some interesting thoughts on the subject by professional baseball players, check out this link.