Definition 1 of 1
Yet this is exactly what it feels like in dubbing the ridiculousness I am about to describe as "French Cricket" - an unwarranted nationwide dig at a harmless nation of modern day tourists and hippy locals. Of course the other more reasonable explanation is that the Brits made this up. The scoundrels!
Frech cricket is sedentary. You stand in place with your legs tied together with imaginary twine making them the target for the tennis ball (taw-nee, if you're french and reading this, s'il vous plait) that will be harmlessly tossed toward your legs with a lazy underhand motion (think softball played by drunk old italian men). Your objective with the bat is to flick the ball away with the aim of scoring runs. How you ask? Well, you simply circulate the bat around yourself by switching it from hand to hand, clockwise or anti-clockwise it matters not. If, in the process of manufacturing a revolution, the wily fielder standing a few feet away manages to strike your legs with the ball, you are out! And you can continue standing absolutely still but a little to the side. And without the bat. Or an objective.
Why is this even played one might ponder. Isn't the essence of a game the inherent challenge? That intangible that rouses the spirit in a human? Upon further reflection one might realize that the challenge in French Cricket is contextual and self-fulfilling. If your pot belly is so large that it makes moot an actual cricket match, then it is also so large as to obscure a direct line of sight to your legs and pose a significant threat to circumnavigation. Therein lies that ephemeral war cry that exhorts us to action.
MS: "Mummy said no playing in the street after 3 o'clock because there is too much traffic"
Virat: "Mud tank is wet from rains. That too last time hockey buggers thulped us nicely. Still it's paining..."
Sachin: "Come on boys, we'll play French Cricket on the verandah!"