Here's a little piece I wrote for the December issue of Panic magazine... nice to be back at the wicket, by the way. I intend to get back to this on a regular basis with a bit of Ashes banter, so see you at the popping crease.
Winter is here, the mornings are frost-bitten and Christmas is looming. So naturally my thoughts at this time of the year turn to… cricket.
Yes, the greatest of summer sports (in my mind the greatest of all sports) is the focus of attention in the bleak mid winter as England battle Australia for the Ashes down under.
Like all great sporting events, the Ashes provokes fierce rivalry and produces sublime moments of drama. But the great thing about cricket is that it’s the most eccentric sport you can imagine.
For starters, there aren’t many sports that last for five days without any guarantee of a result. And there can be few other athletic endeavours that rely so much on prevailing weather conditions.
Rain, wind, sunshine and humidity all have major effects on cricket and not just on whether the game takes place or not.
Cricketers are always “exploiting the conditions.” A bit of moisture in the air can make the ball swing so bowlers will try to make this happen to befuddle batsmen. Dry, sunny conditions will make for a flat pitch on which the batsmen can bully the bowlers and try to hit them out of the ground.
I love the fact that this means something to me and other cricket fans but to many it will sound like complete balderdash.
This is what is so great about cricket; it’s a whole different world of strange terms, complicated rules and obscure customs, something that is utterly steeped in history and tradition, but which is also always changing.
Cricket is WG Grace’s beard, blazers with egg-and-bacon ties and portly chaps in whites running around on English village greens. But is also Hawkeye technology, relentless physical and mental exertion for hours on end in blistering heat and facing a very hard ball being chucked at you at speeds of up to 90 mph.
In games of cricket, you’ll hear talk of the key test, the wagon wheel, following on, carrying your bat, maidens, ducks, golden ducks, slips, silly mid-ons, silly mid-offs, short legs, fine legs, square legs, gullies, googlies, Chinamen, flippers, wrong uns, spinners, seamers, swing, reverse swing… you get the idea.
People say football is the beautiful game, but in my mind cricket is truly beautiful as well as strange, maddening, frustrating, fusty, erratic, sometimes boring and often exhilarating.
That’s why I love it and will be staying up into the wee small hours of cold December and January nights to see if England can retain the Ashes in Australia.
Yes, the greatest of summer sports (in my mind the greatest of all sports) is the focus of attention in the bleak mid winter as England battle Australia for the Ashes down under.
Like all great sporting events, the Ashes provokes fierce rivalry and produces sublime moments of drama. But the great thing about cricket is that it’s the most eccentric sport you can imagine.
For starters, there aren’t many sports that last for five days without any guarantee of a result. And there can be few other athletic endeavours that rely so much on prevailing weather conditions.
Rain, wind, sunshine and humidity all have major effects on cricket and not just on whether the game takes place or not.
Cricketers are always “exploiting the conditions.” A bit of moisture in the air can make the ball swing so bowlers will try to make this happen to befuddle batsmen. Dry, sunny conditions will make for a flat pitch on which the batsmen can bully the bowlers and try to hit them out of the ground.
I love the fact that this means something to me and other cricket fans but to many it will sound like complete balderdash.
This is what is so great about cricket; it’s a whole different world of strange terms, complicated rules and obscure customs, something that is utterly steeped in history and tradition, but which is also always changing.
Cricket is WG Grace’s beard, blazers with egg-and-bacon ties and portly chaps in whites running around on English village greens. But is also Hawkeye technology, relentless physical and mental exertion for hours on end in blistering heat and facing a very hard ball being chucked at you at speeds of up to 90 mph.
In games of cricket, you’ll hear talk of the key test, the wagon wheel, following on, carrying your bat, maidens, ducks, golden ducks, slips, silly mid-ons, silly mid-offs, short legs, fine legs, square legs, gullies, googlies, Chinamen, flippers, wrong uns, spinners, seamers, swing, reverse swing… you get the idea.
People say football is the beautiful game, but in my mind cricket is truly beautiful as well as strange, maddening, frustrating, fusty, erratic, sometimes boring and often exhilarating.
That’s why I love it and will be staying up into the wee small hours of cold December and January nights to see if England can retain the Ashes in Australia.
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