We seem to live in a world where priorities take on different meanings for different people depending on their circumstances.   Woke up this morning feeling fine, with something special on my mind, to quote Herman and his Hermits.  And immediately my senses are invaded and thrown off course by the latest disclosures about an alleged `party` that might or might not have taken place in Downing Street on 18th December last year, when the country was supposed to be in lockdown.

It`s going on a bit - nonstop reports, `analysis,` comment from all parts; perhaps most tellingly from those who lost loved ones to the Pandemic at the same time as the `party` might have been in full swing.  It`s all very troubling and I may not be the only one who is waiting for Prime Minister`s Questions at high noon to see what Boris has to say for himself.  If it`s all true then maybe, just maybe, this might be the beginning of the end for Boris and all his eccentric blustering because what we really need, especially now, is some proper good old fashioned principled, honest leadership.   (There`s a Cabinet member from Southampton who might do nicely?)

But while all this is going on there are, of course, perhaps more pressing matters that should be concerning Parliament - the Covid pandemic, of course, the scandals emerging about the evacuation from Kabul, the threats emerging around Ukraine, the continuing migrant crisis and on and on they go.  And I woke up to the news that England had been dismissed for 147 in the first Test against Australia in Brisbane.

It reminded me that, when besieged by the stresses and strains of fighting the Tory leadership contest back in 1997, John Major took time out to write a Daily Telegraph obituary for his boyhood hero, Denis Compton.  Maybe he had his priorities right after all?

 

FAIR DELIVERY ?

Among the presents I was fortunate to receive on my last birthday was a subscription to `The Cricketer` and I am thoroughly enjoying reading this splendid publication when it arrives on my doormat each month.   It is like it says on the front cover - a magazine for those like me who have spent a lifetime in love with what I consider to be the truly beautiful game.

But cricket has been going through a difficult time of late, as witnessed by the goings on at Yorkshire and the more general suspicion that racism might have extended to most parts of the county game, if not at the game`s highest level.

It`s now reported that the hitherto much admired editor of The Cricketer - former Middlesex bowler Simon Hughes - has been dismissed from the role after appearing to `take a soft line` on the issue of alleged racism.  He is understood to have upset fellow members of the staff at the magazine with his recent podcast comments about the issues at Yorkshire in which he compared the alleged use of the `P` word to being insulted by team mates for being bald during his own playing career.  This was followed by the predictable backlash on social media which in turn led to an internal review and which led to the decision not to renew Hughes`s contract.

He also caused a bit of a fuss last summer when he criticised the ECB`s decision to suspend Ollie Robinson from the England Test team after it emerged that Robinson had posted historic racist tweets in his days as an innocent youth, which Hughes described as a `total over reaction and a media lynching.`  

In what is now becoming a familiar tale, former England captain Michael Vaughan has been exiled by the BBC and BT Sports for the forthcoming Ashes tour as a result of racism allegations made against him despite his strong denial about the comments he made all of twelve years ago.  

Seems to me that what`s missing in cases such as this is `due process,` when allegations of this nature are made but where people are entitled to a fair hearing before any conclusions are drawn as to guilt or innocence, especially in cases going back a number of years when a different `culture` predominated.   Doesn`t necessarily make it right, of course, but it would help if things were considered in their proper context.   Instead we have rush to judgment, for which a former Lord High Chancellor, Thomas Erskine, said that there should be a solemn pause before being reached and in more modern times, John Grisham was convinced that the trouble with rushing to judgment is that it makes a fair trial hard to get.

In the cases of Hughes and Vaughan they may not be facing a fair delivery, the ball may have pitched outside off stump and gone on to miss the wickets - perhaps they should have called for a review?

 

INNOCENCE RECALLED...

A few disappointments lately in the relative serenity of the world of cricket - England losing the T20 World Cup semi-final;  New Zealand losing the final and the growing controversy over alleged racism in county cricket which has ended up with questions in the House and appearances before a committee of MPs.

Now there is a difference between racism, other unacceptable forms of discrimination and the dark arts of sledging and genuinely innocent banter.   Sometimes it`a a job to tell them apart without the context but the lines seem to be clearly drawn between the allegations surrounding racist remarks in places like Yorkshire and the good old fashioned wind-ups that added a certain piquancy between the likes of Glenn McGrath and Eddo Brandes.  

You might recall the occasion when the rotund lower order Zimbabwean  batsman arrived at the crease and proved difficult to remove.  In a fit of frustration, McGrath enquired,"Strewth Eddo, how did you get so fat?"  "Well, each time I make love to your wife, she gives me a couple of doughnuts."  After that exchange, Brandes didn`t trouble the scorers further as I recall.   

Now the photo above shows the old cricket ground in the Kentish village where, back in the 1950s and 60s I played cricket on Saturdays - the church in the background is where Mrs. S and I were married 60 years ago - and when those games were played between other nearby villages in a spirit of friendly rivalry - no leagues to worry about, unspoken respect for the game and for our opponents and courtesies such as clapping incoming batsmen to the crease and never questioning umpiring decisions.

Sounds innocent...sounds idyllic.... but that`s just how it was.  We  were blissfully unaware of any need to do or say anything that would disrupt the enjoyment of those sunny Summer afternoons.  On Sundays I played for another village team at Basted just a couple of miles away and the recent controversies at Yorkshire - and now Essex - have recalled to mind the annual game we had at Basted against a team from south east London - Dominica.  As the name suggests that was a team of gentlemen of Caribbean origin who looked forward each year to their game against us on that tiny ground on its Kentish hillside overlooking the Bourne Valley.

Those games were a delight, made even more so by the qualities of our visitors - their cricket, their personalities and the sheer fun of being in each others` company.  Never a word out of place, never anything crossing our minds but the enjoyment of those blissful days. 

It`s called innocence I suppose - of a different time, a different place and as I am often accused of having failed to grow up properly, I do look back on those years and wish they could still be here today.  So do people at Headingley, I imagine.  Just to confirm the mists of time and the recollection of innocence, here`s a photo of Basted Cricket team back in the days just before I joined them :- 

If only.......

 

So, England lose the T20 World Cup semi-final or, to be more accurate, New Zealand came through victorious.   I have no complaints about that result for a number of reasons.  Of course, cricket buffs like me go back two years to that extraordinary day at Lord`s when England somehow managed to win the 50 over World Cup by beating New Zealand off the last ball of the super over.

I was as pleased with that result as any other England supporter but I felt for New Zealand that day and it really was one of those games when neither team deserved to lose...or even to win.

The Kiwis now face either Australia or Pakistan in the final and I really don`t care too much which of those two make it through but I also really hope that New Zealand can win the title for a number of reasons, not least because they deserve it.  It will provide some redemption for their defeat in 2019 but also because it will be a just reward for the way they play the game.

There was an incident in the late stages of yesterday`s game against England when the Kiwi batsmen declined to run because they felt there had been an obstruction to the England bowler who was attempting to stop the ball.  To behave like that in the pivotal stages of a high pressure game did not go unnoticed.   As Nasser Hussain said on commentary, "That is just so New Zealand" and he was quite right as it encapsulated their approach of fairness and respect for the spirit of cricket.

If they do win the final at the weekend it will be a fitting result and one which will bring a  feeling of quiet satisfaction in memory of those dramatic events on that remarkable day at Lord`s.  They`ve got this far - now go and win it.

  

 

THEY THINK IT`S ALL OVER....

Just a day or so ago this year`s Cricket County Championship came to a final conclusion.  At the end of it all, we were left with Warwickshire winning the trophy for the first time in nine years - no complaints about that, I`m genuinely pleased for them, their supporters and everyone at Edgbaston.   The day before, Hampshire, who were in with a shout to win the title themselves, fell just short of beating Lancashire, who won by just one wicket in a thrilling climax to a proper game of Division 1 cricket.

That left Lancashire with a chance for themselves to become champions, if Warwickshire failed to beat Somerset in their final game.   As we know now, Warwickshire emerged as champions, leaving Lancashire in second, Somerset third and Hampshire a close fourth.   It all added up to an interesting and hard fought conclusion to a long season played in difficult circumstances.

A special mention must go to Kent, however, who having won the T20 Blast Final last weekend, pulled off a spectacular victory over Middlesex to win Division 3 of the county championship and gain a well earned promotion.   Their performance in this the last of their four day games was spectacular, defying the odds to reach an unlikely 375-8 in the fourth innings to win by two wickets.  It has been a truly encouraging year for Kent who deserved the successes that came their way so late in the season.

So that`s it then?   Well it`s not quite all over on the domestic cricket front;  on Tuesday at Lord`s Warwickshire will be taking on Lancashire in the five day final of the Bob Willis Trophy - maybe Lancashire will have the chance for a little sweet revenge - but it should bring the 2021 season to a fitting closure.   After that game, if you thought it was all over, it will be then - more`s the pity.

LORD`S AND MASTERS...

I see that our lords and masters at the Marylebone Cricket Club have decreed that `batsmen` are no longer to be called `batsmen` but are instead simply to be referred to as `batters.`  This is to bring cricket up to date in a world of increasing diversity and inclusion.   Sounds good but could lead to some difficulties along the way.

For example, fielding positions could be next in line for renaming - third man may have to become third person?   Backward point and silly mid on may be challenged by those fearful of a backlash from those campaigning for equal rights for the intellectually challenged;  short square leg, fine leg and long leg might fall foul of those concerned about leg fetishism; short mid wicket might irk those who may be vertically challenged  and don`t get me started on cow corner.

I suppose I might be accused of being out of time, out of date or simply out of it, but I hope the MCC leave it at that and don`t meddle any more with the traditions of the game by pandering to the woke brigade.

 

Well, it`s mid September.  It`s a long time from May to December and the Autumn weather turns the leaves to flame.   And the days of Summer and cricket dwindle down to a precious few.  Sometimes the cricket season goes out with a whimper, shoulders are shrugged, a resigned acceptance kicks in and attention turns, however unwillingly, to the anxieties of being a football follower.  It`s just the way it is, some things will never change.

Yesterday was one of those dreamy, balmy, September days when the sun was high, the air was warm and comforting - just the sort of day to be outside, breathing it in and enjoying just being.   Trouble was, there was the T20 Finals Day on the television, beginning late morning and going on until late evening and it is one of those days when cricket reminds you that it has so much to offer that it becomes compulsive viewing.   My day was further complicated by the fact that the two cricket clubs I follow were both in action.   At the start, I considered whether I would prefer Hampshire or Kent to win the trophy but I concluded that as they might both fail to even reach the final, it really wouldn`t matter too much if either of them did.  Or indeed both of them.  Either way, it would be win-win or lose-lose.

The first semi-final in the morning saw Somerset snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, leaving Hampshire to rue the fact that they had snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.  One down, let`s hope for a better outcome for Kent.  In the second semi-final, they overcame neighbouring Sussex with a controlled display with the lowlight perhaps being Jordan Cox`s golden duck.

And so to the evening final between Kent and Somerset, neither of whom had won the trophy for more years than either cared to remember.   And what a final it was, with Cox turning from zero to hero with a wonderful half century to set Somerset a challenging run chase.  More to the point, Cox excelled in the field - one spectacular catch was followed by an extraordinary piece of athletic awareness to palm the ball back from the boundary not only to prevent a six but also so that Matt Milnes could take a vital catch to dismiss Somerset captain Lewis Gregory.   Somerset had no answer as Kent almost seamlessly moved to win the game and the T20 title by 25 runs.  Cue dancing in the streets of the Garden of England.

So, whilst there might still be the odd game to play before the curtain finally comes down on yet another season, yesterday ensured that cricket went out not with its customary whimper but with a resounding bang.  Here`s a reminder of why.....

Maybe next year it might be Hampshire?

 

  Just about sums up a quite extraordinary sporting weekend.  A case of all action, some action and no action at all.   I`ll follow the rest of the world first by saying what a fantastic achievement it was by Emma Raducanu to win the US Open tennis grand slam title.  I see she was born in Canada but moved to the UK when she was two years old but despite claims from our Canadian friends that the final was between two Canadians, here in the UK we are claiming Emma as one of our own.  

And here in Kent we are claiming that she is a Kentish maid, albeit denying the fact that the bit of Kent she comes from is now within the London Borough of Bromley.   Great stuff though, Emma - very well done.  (I wonder if a bandwagon is revving up in Downing Street as bookmakers are opening books on how long before our Emma, a-la Blair knighting Ferguson, becomes Dame Emma?)

From that high we had the unedifying spectacle of no action at all in the fifth Test Match between England and India at Old Trafford which was called off, ostensibly due to panic in the Indian camp following a Covid outbreak among their non-playing group.   I just wondered whether that might have been a cunning plan to avoid playing the game which would have seen an England win levelling the series and sharing the points in the World Test Championship. 

 But perhaps that is unfair when the reality seems to be an acknowledgement that the power in the game now clearly resides with those players who seem more concerned to fulfil their lucrative IPL contracts than pay respectful homage to the traditions of the game.  Not a good look though - and as for playing the `deciding game` next summer, forget it, just award the game to England, call the series squared and move on.

In other news, a mixture of highs, lows and indifferences in the world of football. In a sense, Southampton`s neighbourly diplomatic friendly 0-0 draw at home to West Ham mirrored Emma being the first British woman tennis player to win a Grand Slam in 44 years.   Before Saturday`s encounter the Saints had gone 24 games without managing to keep a clean sheet - it just felt like 44 years.  

Another high was Brechin City`s 3-1 win away at Nairn County which keeps them on track for a swift return to the Scottish League Two and Maidstone United`s 2-2 draw with Concord Rangers (me neither) extended their  unbeaten run and kept them second in the table, whilst my other neighbour`s Gillingham secured a creditable 1-1 draw away at Burton Albion.  

But that was it really - a succession of dismal failures by the plucky minnows I also follow saw Truro City lose 1-0 at home to Beaconsfield Town;  Fort William lose 10-3 against high flying Inverurie Loco Works; and Stoke Gabriel and Torbay Police FC (SG&TBPFC) lose 6-2 away at AFC Torridgeside - a nice day out at Great Torrington though.

So in summary it looks like two wins (Emma and Brechin City;) three draws (Saints, Gillingham and Maidstone;)  three defeats and one non-event.   Well, sport is supposed to be about highs and lows, to be fair.  Try again next week.

 

THE TIMES THEY ARE A- CHANGIN`..

Well, I guess the jury is in the process of returning its verdict on the first ever `The Hundred.` It will be interesting to see what the cricketing world has made of this new upstart competition that has been gracing our screens for the last few weeks.

A few posts ago (see "A Rumble of Thunder" back on 25 July) I ventured some unease about The Hundred with all its razzmatazz, its quirky rules, its obesity-encouraging sponsorship, which seemed to be the main difference between it and the established T20 format.   There was also the concern I had about its effect on the more `traditional` formats of the county championship and test cricket.

Having now witnessed The Hundred through the admittedly narrow spectrum of television, I still have those concerns but I have to admit to being converted to this new kid on the block. It seems to have brought a different level of `excitement,` drama and personality to a game which in the end is all about which team scores the most runs in order to win it.  It`s franchise cricket of course with all its rampant commercialism and its sense of immediacy.  But maybe in this frantic world, it`s what people want - rather than need - and it unashamedly plays to that demand.   

I guess what helps me come to terms with it all is that the first competition was won yesterday by the catchily named Southern Brave based at Southampton`s Ageas Bowl and led by Hampshire captain James Vince, although the team comprised players from all parts - Sussex had a decent representation but so too did South Africa, New Zealand and all points beyond the south coast.  But it was the pace of it all - helped by the imposition of time limits, the skills displayed, the phenomenal hitting, the inventive bowling, the athletic fielding that stood out, as too did the involvement and active participation of the growing crowds who seemed to genuinely enjoy the occasion. 

I never thought I would see the day when pyrotechnics and whoopy-do `music` would be allowed, not to say tolerated, within the hallowed confines of Lord`s but I suppose it`s a sign that the times really are a changin` and that maybe the success of the first Hundred competition suggests a turning point in the way cricket has to evolve if it is to survive in a sometimes cruelly competitive world.   In the end, if The Hundred and its like manage to contribute towards the upkeep of the more traditional forms of the game then it deserves to be welcomed for what it is and what it can provide in allowing people like me to carry on enjoying my days in the sun at Canterbury.

I nicked a line from Bob Dylan as the heading for this post but I`m also reminded of Neil Sedaka`s lines from `Our last song Together` - a plaintive acceptance that things change and life moves on:-

"Yesterday is yesterday. The past is dead and gone.

Nostalgia just gets in the way. Let`s stop hanging on...."

But for all that, those of my generation will no doubt obstinately hang on to our past which is full of nostalgia, if not longing, for our yesterdays when cricket, like life itself, was so much more straightforward.

 

A RUMBLE OF THUNDER ?

I`ve been watching the first few games in the brand spanking new cricket competition `The Hundred.`  It seems to be the T20 - which comprises 120 balls - but reduced to just 100 balls, so it`s difficult to detect any real difference apart from the introduction of some odd rules such as having `strategic time-outs,` a time limit for each innings and having five or ten ball `sets` instead of the more traditional six ball overs.  (This has the annoying innovation of the umpires holding up a white card at the end of each `set` rather than calling `Over` at the end of an over.)

It`s all a bit bish-bash-bosh, to steal a slogan from one of its sponsors;  there`s live music in between `innings,` there`s fireworks, a `match hero` instead of a player of the match but also the crowd bringing their repertoire of chants, songs and insults direct from their T20 experiences.  The idea is apparently to attract a younger audience to the game by introducing almost American style razzmatazz, deafening noise and ancillary `attractions` all the while the serious business of playing the game is going on.

Traditionalists - like me, I suppose - will baulk at the gimmicks but I wonder whether the England and Wales Cricket Board have made a fatal error in underestimating the power of history.  Most cricket clubs in this country have more than a century of history behind them which seems to engender a feeling of loyalty and devotion to the game which goes far beyond mere results on the pitch.

But for all that, given the extensive BBC and Sky Sports coverage and the attendances at the games so far, it is perhaps refreshing to see that audiences seem to be very much into the atmosphere and enjoyment of the occasion and what is perhaps telling is the sheer fun and enjoyment displayed by the younger members of the audience - some of them very young indeed - which was apparently one of the reasons for coming up with this version of the game;  to spread its appeal, get more young people involved and in the process generate more revenue to feed back into the more `traditional` game.  (I was interested to see that the one county which `did not vote` for the introduction of The Hundred was Kent - I wonder if they will miss out on the £1.3million promised by the ECB to each county.)

In the end, despite my reservations, I`m finding it compelling viewing - even Mrs. Snopper is mildly interested - and in a way I hope it succeeds in the longer term rather than simply being an expensive stop gap before football starts up again.  If it does succeed, I worry what its effect will be on the county game, the established T20 format and the 50-over competition.  The simple game of cricket could get too complicated and in its effort to be all things to all cricket followers it could leave its history and tradition floundering in the wake of its own desperation.  I really hope not.

Here in Kent today we have a Met. Office weather warning for heavy showers, torrential downpours, lightning and thunder and I thought I detected some thunder rumbling away down the other end of the county as I watched The Hundred unfold last evening.  On the other hand, it could have been EW (`Jim`) Swanton turning in his grave down at Sandwich.

 

A DEBT OF GRATITUDE...

I don`t take The Times - it`s a bit heavy for me and a bit big and I`m not sure I would have the stamina to plough through it all.   I`m sure that is to my detriment but I did pick up on the sad news that The Times` cricket correspondent, John Woodcock, has passed away at the age of 94.

He was know as `The Sage of Longparish` after the Hampshire village he called home.  He was said to have seen more Test matches than anyone - over 400 of them - except for Richie Benaud and his 33 years as The Times correspondent earned him the right to a lasting place in the annals of cricket journalism.   Between 1981 and 1987 he edited Wisden`s Cricketers` Almanack, copies of which adorn my eclectic bookshelves and I think it was that connection that made me pause and reflect on the strength and depth of cricket writing over the years.

So in acknowledging the debt of gratitude to John Woodcock it gives me the opportunity to give my thanks also to the many cricket writers who have provided so much enjoyment over the years and makes me wonder why it is that cricket seems to be the one area in the sporting world that provides literature of arguably the highest quality of any other.  It surely must be down to the game itself which whilst taking anything up to five days to play - and then not always leading to a result - provides ample opportunity for reflection which can then be translated into intelligent, thoughtful and considered commentary.

I`ve got a few of them on my bookshelves.  Biographies of  Harold Larwood, Harold Gimblett, Tom Graveney;  autobiographies by Ben Stokes, Robin Smith:  histories of county teams such as Somerset, Glamorgan, Hampshire; and what you might describe as collective essays about the spirit and charm of the game and its way of life by authors such a David Foot, Duncan Hamilton and David Frith.   

They are books to keep, not to throw away, to read them again if only as a reminder of and another escape into the other worldly sanctuary of the beautiful game.   And the curious thing is that however many times I get one down from its shelf, there is always something new to discover, some new perspective and yet another reason to be thankful.

 

A day of contrasts yesterday and the calm before the storm of the Euro Football Final came in the form of a visit to the sanctuary of Kent`s cricket headquarters at Canterbury.  There had been reports that the whole of the county`s first team had been isolated following a positive Covid test among one of its players.  So, with not much time before the County Championship game against Sussex was due to start, Kent had to field a team made up of second eleven players, augmented by others from leading clubs within the county.  No less than five new county caps were awarded before the start of play.

As a result of all that, the game didn`t get under weigh until 12.00noon and Kent having won the toss and elected to field, we sat there beyond the boundary at deep backward square leg, and expected the worst.   But Kent`s scratch team did really well and dismissed their neighbouring county side for 181 which included debut bowling figures for 18-year old Jas Singh of four Sussex wickets for 51.

Kent`s reply began well enough but understandably subsided a bit against a strong Sussex attack and ended the day on 69-5.   Another thoroughly enjoyable day at the cricket though - lovely weather, entertaining  play and a good crowd.  I was struck by the contrast between the four day game and the razzamatazz of the T20.   Yesterday there was no deafening music when a boundary was struck or a wicket taken - just polite, gentle applause which all added to the sense of calm and reassurance that it is possible to go to a sporting event and genuinely enjoy the occasion for what it is.

Yesterday was the start of Canterbury Cricket Week - the oldest `festival` of its kind in the country if not the world.  It has been going since 1842 and has been played at the St. Lawrence Ground since 1847.  Normally such weeks become alive with an array of marquees for the various clubs and societies that support Kent cricket and associated activities and entertainments take place around the ground, none more compelling than the famed `ladies hat competition` during the tea interval when the dowagers of the county compete for who might have the most fetching fascinator.  Sadly, this year the pandemic has meant that none of that has been possible.

I suspect that Canterbury divides opinion between those who might still be coming to terms with the death of King Edward V11 and others who might see it as a theme park for vaguely distracted gentlefolk.   Others still, perhaps myself  included, may be seduced by the surroundings and the understated grandeur of the setting, not least the decorous pavilion and the assortment of stands named after Kent heroes of days gone by - Woolley, Ames, Cowdrey, Underwood and Knott. 

As for me, I looked upon yesterday as an escape from all the hullabaloo, the non-stop noise and hype in anticipation of the Euro Final later that day and perhaps also an escape from the madness surrounding the pandemic and, more especially, the political insanity that surrounds it. 

When I began writing this piece I had intended to provide some contrast between my day at the cricket and the evening`s collective emotional extremes but in the end the almost mysticism of Canterbury took over, so at the risk of disappointing you or maybe even providing a sigh of relief I will leave it at that.  If I can face it I may return to the more frantic world of football once the dust has settled a bit. Oh, and by the way, today`s play at Canterbury is `delayed` by heavy and persistent overnight rain.   Dame Fortune may be smiling on Kent after all?

 

FULL CIRCLE...

No-one was more pleased than me to see the New Zealand cricket team becoming ICC World Test Champions following their eight wicket win in the final over India yesterday.   I have long been an admirer of most things Kiwi and before you think I`m just jumping on the bandwagon of their latest success, maybe I should explain the context for my delight at their win.

Back in the Summer of 1949 my parents took me to the old Hampshire County Cricket Ground at Northlands Road in Southampton, where Hampshire were playing the New Zealand tourists in a three day first class cricket match - the first one I ever saw.   I still remember their opening partnership of Bert Sutcliffe and Verdun Scott, their captain Walter Hadlee (father of Sir Richard) and it was a day that cemented my interest in cricket, in Hampshire cricket and in New Zealand - not a bad introduction to the truly beautiful game for me at the age of just ten. 

And in a kind of long distance, vicarious way I have followed their progress ever since - the ups and downs, the triumphs and disasters, the players who have come and gone over those 70+ years and it is in the last couple of years, of course, that they have reached arguably their highest levels of performance.   Two years ago they lost the limited over World Cup Final to England at Lord`s in what was the most dramatic way possible - a run-out on the last ball of the super over denying them the victory but they took it in good part, no histrionics, no complaints despite perhaps having cause for one or two to be lodged, nothing other than a dignified acceptance that sometimes these things happen.

And so against that background, yesterday the redemption came for them in a game that, thanks to the vagaries of the English Summer, went almost to the end of the reserve sixth day.  As ever, New Zealand were modest in their victory, India were themselves dignified in their acceptance of defeat in a game that exemplified the true spirit of cricket at the highest level.

So yesterday provided something of a landmark in my cricketing experience, not only because it was New Zealand but also because the Final was played at Hampshire`s new, spanking Ageus Bowl - not too far from Northlands Road but 70 years away from my tentative introduction to what cricket is all about.   Another full circle of life completed.

 

It was a cold, gloomy, overcast day yesterday - hardly in keeping with the alleged `height of Summer`, but the day being Fathers Day my eldest son and I treated ourselves to another visit to Canterbury where Kent were to play Essex in the T20 cricket in what had been dubbed the battle of the bridge - the one which separates the two counties as it spans the Thames.   I suppose the tussle of the tunnel might have been equally as eloquent but it all added to the hype surrounding these T20 Blast games.

Kick-off was supposed to be at 2.30pm but heavy overnight rain delayed proceedings for an hour, leading to play beginning at 3.30pm.   To be fair, the ground staff and the umpires did well to get the game under way at all, so it was a bit of a surprise that, having won the toss, Essex decided to field first.  That suited Kent rather well and they hammered the Essex bowling for 236 for 3, their highest score in the T20, thanks to 69 from Zak Crawley, 88 from Daniel Bell-Drummond and an undefeated 42 from Jack Leaning.

In reply Essex made a decent start but in the end were no match for Kent`s bowling attack and athletic fielding, reaching 169 all out to secure Kent yet another T20 victory this time by 67 runs.  The in-form Leaning not only added to his batting display earlier on but displayed his bowling prowess by taking 3-15 in two overs and also taking a quite stunning catch off his own bowling - surely a man-of-the-match all round performance.

So, despite sitting in the gathering gloom, the cold of the day had turned into the comfort of a resounding and altogether convincing Kent win.  Nice one.   But the thing about going to the cricket especially in a traditional ground like Canterbury is that whilst the game itself may be the reason to go there, there is so much more to it than that.  Even for the relatively short duration of a T20 game nevertheless it becomes something of a day long expedition and you have to be prepared for any eventuality.

So we took a selection of clothing which helped but did not quite defeat the inclemency of the English mid Summer and also enough food and drink to keep us going.  And it`s here that people have choices.   Some go the whole hog and come prepared with a considerable array of delicacies;  others prefer to buy burgers and chips from the attendant burger bar; whilst those like me go more for - how shall I say? - cordon noir?  My own sustenance on this occasion consisted of a pork pie, a tomato, an excellent Eccles cake courtesy of Messrs. Marks and Spencer, a penguin (the chocolate variety) and a flask of hot coffee.

I noticed too the attitude of the assembled sell-out crowd when confronted with the announcement of a delay before the umpires would inspect the pitch to see if play could begin.  This was met with a kind of resigned acceptance, a collective shrugging of the shoulders, leading most to invade their packed lunches and while away the time with polite discourse.   Had the same thing happened at a football match, I imagine there would have been a riot.

So, in the end another excellent, enjoyable and rewarding day successfully negotiated -  even if it was comforting to get back in the car and turn the heating up.   

 

AN EVENING AT THE CRICKET..

To Canterbury and I`m feeling privileged to have been the guest of a member of Kent County Cricket Club for the game against Gloucestershire at the sainted St. Lawrence Ground last evening.  It was the first T20 game I had attended so it was a new experience - one so much better than just watching it on the television.

As ever with Kent CCC the administration and organisation of the event was admirable given the restrictions imposed by friend Covid and his variant chums and I was again struck by the difference in attitude towards `customers` at cricket - where we were treated courteously and felt welcome - and football, where you really are felt that you should be grateful for being allowed to be there.

It was 20 overs each side;  Kent batted first and did well to reach 183 for 5 despite a faltering start which was rescued by some attractive stroke play by Jack Leaning`s invaluable 81 not out.  In reply, Gloucestershire were within a whisker of winning the game, needing just 10 runs from the last over but were denied by the bowling of unexpected hero Fred Klaassen who took two wickets with his first two balls of the final over which ended with Gloucestershire reaching 178-8 and leaving Kent winning by 5 runs.

We sat in the first row of the Cowdrey Stand, over the boundary ropes at cow corner and had a splendid view of proceedings as you can see from my photo above.  Perhaps the only thing that marred our enjoyment was the constant noise from the loud speakers just above us each time a wicket fell, a boundary was scored or a six cleared the ropes.  I called it noise rather than music because it seemed to consist of up tempo rappy style stuff which was lost on me although I understood the appropriateness of one or two snippets such as `Don`t look back in anger` as a dismissed Gloucestershire batsman trudged wearily back to the pavilion.   

For me and those of my ilk I understand the need to hype up the T20 `experience` with things like that but if they must do it perhaps we - especially in the hallowed Cowdrey Stand - could be serenaded with Mahler`s Adagietto or at least send opposition batsmen on their way with Mozart`s Lacrimosa from Don Giovanni.  That might just put the icing on a very sumptuous and enjoyable cake.

Next up, Essex at Canterbury on Sunday with a 2.30 kick-off - I`ll take my earplugs.

 

Two examples from yesterday.  The first concerned the cricket match my son and I went to see on Thursday.  It was a disappointing day - no play until 4.30, by which time  we had given up on the day and come home.   Yesterday was yet another of `inclement weather` at least here at home in mid-Kent.  But down the road in Canterbury play got under way (or is it under weigh?  I never really know - something about weighing anchors I think.)

And while we were stuck indoors here at home yesterday, down the other end of the county Darren Stevens went berserk, rescuing a dodgy Kent batting display by smashing 190 in a total of 307 which included 15 fours and 15 sixes.  He put on 166 for the ninth wicket with Miguel Cummins whose contribution to the record breaking partnership was just one solitary run.  Shades of Jack Leach?

So, we had hung around most of the day without seeing any cricket on one day and the day when `inclement weather` should have put paid to any cricket yesterday Stevens goes and does that.... and we missed it.   Is God trying to tell me something?  Or is it just irony?  Or just the luck of the draw?

The other example of the ironic world we live in came from the mountainous kerfuffle surrounding the BBC and the Martin Bashir inquiry fallout.  I won`t go on about it - it`s being done to death in the media and I`m sure everyone is now well versed in every aspect of the whole affair.   But what did strike me as at least straying into the realms of irony was the fact that, in 2016, Bashir was appointed as the BBC`s Religious Affairs Editor no less. 

Now you would imagine that the basic qualifications for such a post would be things like integrity, honesty, a devout understanding of religion and all its works and an unimpeachable background.  Perhaps the BBC thought that this appointment would be the icing on the cake of its serial cover-ups.  The more I see and hear about it all, the more I miss Line of Duty.

 

A DAY AT THE CRICKET ?

The picture above shows the St. Lawrence Ground in Canterbury, the home of Kent County Cricket Club, on a day of inclement weather.   Now it has been 604 days today since spectators were allowed into the ground and it must be all of 700 days since I made my last visit;  all due to Mr. Covid and his variant chums.

So it was with a good deal of expectation that my eldest son and I were able to return to the ground yesterday following the partial lifting of Covid restrictions.   He is a member of KCCC and is entitled to bring a `guest` with him as part of his membership and so I was privileged to be his guest yesterday.   The game against Glamorgan was due to start at 11.00 am but after our journey through the beautiful Kent countryside, parking the car, getting the Park and Ride bus down to the ground and going through all the Covid checks, we were a bit late in arriving.

We shouldn`t have been too concerned because, after taking our socially distanced seats in the open air around the boundary, we discovered that there was a delay is starting the game due to the fact that a large area of the outfield was too wet to allow play to commence.  There had apparently been some heavy and persistent overnight rain in Canterbury.  

The umpires had inspected the ground and decided that play had not been possible at 11.00am but they would make another inspection at 12.20pm.  That came and went with the decision for the players to have lunch at 12.50 and the umpires would have another inspection at 1.30.  That came and went as well - and all the while we were sat in our seats getting more and more uncomfortable in the `inclement weather` as the south west wind becoming stronger and the temperature never reaching anything that it should be in late May. 

I think it was Oscar Hammerstein who suggested that "May was full of promises but she didn`t keep `em quick enough for some.  And a crowd of doubting Thomases was predicting that the Summer`d never come."  Well, he wasn`t wrong.

So we munched our packed lunches and waited the outcome of yet another pitch inspection. That also came and went with the promise of another inspection at 2.40 and as the day wore on it became obvious that we would see hardly any cricket to speak of, so we gave up and came home.  The frustrating thing was that all the time we sat there, there was no rain at all - just that a part of the outfield had not dried sufficiently to allow play to begin.  But we learned later that it did begin - at 4.30pm - and Kent, having lost the toss and been put in to bat promptly made 70 for the loss of two wickets before proceedings were drawn to a close for the day.  

It could only happen in the hallowed world of County Championship cricket and could only happen on a May day which promised so much but delivered so little, especially having waited patiently for almost two years to be back in the enveloping surroundings of a good old fashioned cricket ground..  Maybe Summer will arrive - I hope so because despite the frustrations of yesterday I hope to be back there again in two weeks time for the visit of Northamptonshire.  Fingers crossed.  And a word of praise to Kent County Cricket Club - their hard work and attention to every detail to ensure the safety of their visitors in these trying times was exemplary.  

 

THE CANDLES FLICKER AND DIM...

I noticed a very brief report in yesterday`s newspaper that Derek Ufton had passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of 92.  The brief report was buried away right at the bottom of one of the sports pages.  In one respect it was good to see that his contribution to both football and cricket had at least been acknowledged;  but I felt, partly for personal reasons, that he deserved a little more than what was perhaps merely a passing reference.

Now you reach a certain age in life when you develop perhaps an unhealthy habit of looking for obituaries - I have recorded quite a number of them in these pages over the years (click on `obituaries` on the list of labels at the bottom) - and it becomes yet more poignant when they appear for heroes of your own youth.  And Derek was certainly one of mine.

I first saw him play football for Charlton Athletic way back in the 1950s.  At the time, my parents and I had just moved away from my boyhood village by the sea on the shores of Southampton Water to the mean streets of south east London.   An uncle and aunt of mine had a pub, The Dover Patrol, in Kidbrooke and we moved there so that my parents could learn `the licensed trade.`  Kidbrooke is just up the road from Charlton and it wasn`t long before I started to go to The Valley to watch Charlton, having been dragged away from watching the Saints at The Dell.

I enjoyed watching Charlton back then.  They had an interesting team including legendary goalkeeper Sam Bartram, a host of South African imports - John Hewie, Eddie Firmani, Stuart Leary, Sid O`Linn - a rock solid captain in Benny Fenton, pacy wingers in Billy Kiernan and Gordon Hurst....and Derek Ufton, their imperious centre half.  Derek played almost 300 games for Charlton and once for England, in a game against the Rest of the World in 1953.  After a spell of three years managing Plymouth Argyle, he was a club director at Charlton for 26 years.

And he excelled at cricket where he played for Kent alongside his footballing chums Sid O`Linn and Stuart Leary.  As a wicketkeeper batsman, Derek played 149 games for Kent, scoring almost 4,000 runs and taking 313 dismissals behind the stumps.  He became President of Kent County Cricket Club in 2001 and was for many years Chairman of the Lord`s Taverners cricket charity.

So a full and long life comes to a peaceful end.  The candles flickered and dimmed on yet another of the heroes of my youth.   Trouble is, that`s happening far too frequently these days but Derek, like me, was of his time - he did his National Service, loved the games he played with such distinction and knew the peace and comfort of his Kent village of Elham.

  He is rightly honoured and is much missed.

 

                           

AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL..

.....there might be some light?  Well, we`ll see -literally.  I promised not to post about the corona virus and I will try to keep to that promise.  But it`s difficult to avoid it sometimes and today it is just one of a number of things that can combine to bring about a feeling of frustration.  The main problem, for me at least, is that this winter seems to be going on and on - it`s a bright sunny morning here in deepest Kent but it`s bitingly cold;  the late afternoon sundowns should be getting later; maybe they are a bit but it`s a slow process. 

In short, I can`t wait for Spring to arrive but in the meantime there has been the odd shaft of light in this seemingly interminable tunnel.  And they come, not surprisingly for me, from the world of sport. 

A brief note about football;  Southampton finally managed to beat Arsenal in the FA Cup, this time with a narrow but deserved 1-0 win at St. Mary`s.  Up next, Wolves at Molineux - always a difficult place to go to.  Forest Green Rovers finally saw the error of their ways and picked Scott Wagstaff to start their away game at Leyton Orient, where they too managed a 1-0 win to move up to second in League Two.  Gillingham secured a 2-2 draw at home to Rochdale and Maidstone United maintained their target of just missing out on promotion by losing 2-0 at home to Braintree.  (I wonder how Braintree got its name?)

But it was in the wonderland of cricket that some hope for the future has been restored, not just on the field of play but also in its ambience where the prospect of sunlight, warmth and long hot days watching the beautiful game shines a little brighter.  I`ve just been watching England win the series against Sri Lanka in Galle - a tremendous example of test cricket at its best, full of outstanding individual performances and played in good spirit, all of which raised my own spirits in this tedious winter of discontent.  Makes me long for some summer days under the Canterbury sky.  Well, here`s hoping.

I`ve been intrigued to see politicians being interviewed on television from the `privacy` of their abodes and to see the libraries they have on their bookshelves.  At the risk of a passing reference to the pandemic, I saw Health Secretary Matt Hancock`s recent interviews and as one might expect the backdrop has been a pretty wide selection of his books.  I think it tells a lot about someone when you see the books they have on their shelves.  So I was surprised but impressed to see that high up on one of his shelves was an edition of Wisden`s Cricketers Almanack.

So he may not be too bad after all and if he can have Wisden on his shelf then maybe there is hope for the rest of us as we climb our way out of the tunnel of winter towards the light of Spring? 

A QUIET DEPARTURE...

So, Summer slides reluctantly into Autumn and with it the cricket season seems to shrug its shoulders and give way to football.  To be fair to the authorities, there has been some cricket to enjoy, at least on television, but it almost feels like a lost summer.  To me, cricket is summer and it`s also a part of me, so I make no apology for posting once more about the beautiful and most companionable of games.

And it was with more than a tinge of regret that I read the reports about Ian Bell`s intention to retire from the game at the end of the season, which is almost upon us.  He has been one of Warwickshire and England`s most prolific, elegant and consistent performers over a long career which began over 20 years ago.  In all, he scored over 7,000 runs in his 118 Test matches;  over 5,000 in ODI games; over 20,000 in first class county matches and over 11,000 in List A games. He scored almost 100 centuries in all competitions, along with an astonishing 160 half centuries  That`s some record and the game will be the poorer for his decision to retire.

You can`t blame him really - he`s 38 now and has said that he knew the time was right for him to go, conceding that his body could not cope with the demands put upon it any more.   I know the feeling.  I played most of my own cricket in my teens and early twenties so I know what it`s like to hang the bat up and kiss the game goodbye.   The difference is, of course, that Bell`s record is not only of the highest order but also consigns my own to the realms of pathos, if not advanced ineptitude.  

But I can at least claim to have achieved  a degree of consistency by reaching the club`s target of 100 runs and 10 wickets in each of five seasons.  It may only have been village club cricket but it was as important to me as Bell`s heroics have been to him.  And I was as proud to be asked to captain the village team as he was to represent his country.

He has had many golden days when everything went right - I had a golden game once, scoring 50 and taking 5 for 9.  In normal circumstances that may have been enough to persuade me to retire on a high but in reality it was being whisked away for National Service, followed by husband-ship and parenthood that thwarted my return to the crease.  But I still I look back on that game and those days under the Kent sunshine with such affection - it`s what the game does to you and gives you something to hold on to when the playing days come to and end.

My other sadness for Ian Bell is that his departure has been met quietly - perhaps too quietly for one of England cricket`s true heroes.  Not much fuss in the media and no-one in the empty ground at Swansea`s Sophia Gardens to see his 160th half century just a couple of days ago.  A quiet departure to a career that will long be remembered.  

STOP PRESS :  And it looks as though half century 161 might be on the cards as Bell was 46 not out at lunch today.

STOP STOP PRESS :  Hes just been bowled for 90 in his last innings.   Quite and exit !