Soviet Onion writes:

I returned from a holiday in Sri Lanka last week, and within minutes of getting home I did what I usually do after work and went through lots of pages on Teletext (does anyone else still do this?).

On page 354 I noticed upcoming cricket fixtures - the standout being Middlesex v Kent at Uxbridge. As I live not far from Uxbridge - and as I usually have Tuesdays as my day off - I decided to make that game my first experience of live cricket!

The night before, I decided to ask my dad if he fancied coming along, as he has been sitting at home for a while after having his appendix removed for no real reason. To my surprise he said yes, even though he has shown no real interest in the sport in my previous 28 years of life. I think he just wanted a few hours away from my mum.

I had to drive as my dad was unable to, due to big stitches in his side, which was disappointing as I couldn’t have a drink. I wore my fancy new Sri Lanka top which I paid over the odds for in Negombo as I am too English and unable to barter.

The place was not very busy, and we were not sure what a good seat would be from the options available, which included two stands and some chairs around the boundary.

Decided to sit on the chairs around the boundary, not in the big stand. We watched the players warm up by playing football and throwing to each other whilst wearing a baseball glove. I pointed out the England players to my dad. He hadn’t heard of them. I then had to phone my mum to check if my dad could have a beer. She said yes, so we both had one and it cost £6 for two pints of Foster’s.

When the game started, my dad laughed at the name Yasir Arafat who played for Kent. Justin Kemp signed loads of autographs for kids whilst on the boundary. Darren Stevens signed about two whilst on the boundary.

At the interval my dad had a beer and me a shandy. Still cost £6 though. I queued for a hog roast bap and they cost £4.50 each, which was a rip off, but I bought two due to lack of other options.

In the Kent innings we felt sorry for Eoin Morgan as he had to go from one end of the pitch to the other after every over. No one else moved much.

All in all a good day and next year if they return to Uxbridge my Dad said he will go again.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
7 Comments »

Spigot of 4.5 Inches fame writes:

My first match! I waited a season and a half for the privilege of turning out for the Coleshill Thirds and when the call finally came, oh I was there. You betcha. Not least because it turned out we were playing Visitors - the most prolific multi-disciplined sporting team in the history of history.

Rendezvousing at the good, proper, centrally-located and very well appointed cricket ground, we then get a lift to the secondary school on the edge of town leaving the first team to play on the real pitch. A good half hour of “warming up” by collecting fag packets, chocolate bar wrappers and broken biros from the outfield was such a great experience and I didn’t think it could get any better.

I couldn’t have been more wrong as by the innings interval I was able to tuck into my “first day at school” lunch box of tasty sandwiches and posh cookies as prepared by the lady wife, leaving me feeling both smug and full, compared to everyone else sharing a packet of Quavers and a four-finger Kit Kat between the lot of them.

Either sides of the middle and at each end of the match, various people ran about for various reasons and no one was eaten by the moles. This included a Chariots-Of-Fire-esque reenactment of the 20-metre toddle, against my son, on the school sports day grass track. I beat him. Oh yes! Who’s the daddy? Me!

A great day had by all, largely except for anyone trying to play a 45-over game in gloom and light drizzle on a rotten pitch on a huge slope. To think that I was called just before all this ‘went down’ to go and do some out-of-hours support for the company I’m about to leave. How could I have possibly gone through with that when I would have missed all of this?

Tags: match report by King Cricket
8 Comments »

Mel writes:

The scene was set. Both sides had prepared for battle. The protagonists eyed each other with a sense of anticipation - who would triumph today? I talk not of the 22 men in pyjamas, but of a far more absorbing contest.

Crowd v Stewards.

Lengthy delay at security check meant many people missed the first ten overs. 0 - 1.

Your correspondent was told that she could not use her camera as it looked ‘too professional’ (it is not). 0 - 2

Crowd begin construction of several beer glass towers, all of which were confiscated by the Stewards 0 - 3

Semi-streaker (wearing a pair of old baggy boxer shorts) leaps onto the pitch and cavorts to the delight of the Crowd. 1 - 3

Semi-streaker apprehended by Stewards and led away as Loudspeaker Man announced that we are all very naughty and if it happens again we will be kept in after school and forced to listen to Geoff Boycott talking us through his 100 favourite innings. 1 - 4

Crowd ignore this warning and a streaker (this time sans undies) leaps onto the pitch and executes a couple of perfect sliding stops to avoid capture. 2 - 4

A Mexican wave erupts with the air filled with torn-up scorecards, beer carriers and copies of the Telegraph Sport. The Stewards look on helplessly. 3 - 4

An inflatable crocodile, football, tomato and banana appear and are tossed around the crowd - the Stewards again are powerless to prevent such anarchy. 4 - 4

An inflatable pink ball lands on the outfield and a kindly, helpful gentleman climbs over and retrieves it before it interferes with play. Stewards promptly escort said kindly, helpful gentlemen from the ground. 4 - 5

Crowd erupts in a cacophony of boos and call the paternity of the particular Steward into question. 5 - 5

Common sense prevails and the kindly, helpful gentleman is allowed back to his seat and afforded a hero’s welcome from the crowd. He was even asked for his autograph.

6 - 5, and a last minute win for The Crowd.

A far more exciting, action-packed and eventful contest than that taking place on the pitch.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
12 Comments »

Mahinda writes:

So, what better way to spend a Tuesday evening than by leaving work a little early and heading over to Old Trafford to watch Lancashire Teef**kingtotallers mash up Durham Donkeymoes? This may or may not have happened.

My matchmates were to be Colin, one of our trainers, and Carsten, the sole attendee of Col’s latest training course. Carsten is from Germany (or possibly Belgium) and knew precisely nothing about cricket.

I did ask “So, what part of Germany are you from?” His reply? “I don’t know, as I do not usually go to these things. Football, maybe.” I did find out later that he works near Brussels, though and that he thoroughly approves of the French going out of Euro 2008.

We had a troupe of dancing girls just in front of us and they were by far the most energetic of the four troupes spaced around the ground. The ones entertaining stand M were probably the next best, while the bunch stationed at the non-alcoholic E stand just didn’t bother. Given that there were about a dozen people sitting in the stand, I can see why.

Even when our lot did get up and boogie, they were spectacularly uncoordinated. The moves were there, but the unison wasn’t. Easy on the eye, but hardly the Dallas Cowgirls. Apparently they were the “Lightning Crew” or somesuch, all from a local dance academy. If even a malcoordinate like myself can master a few dance numbers, surely these bright youngs things could do the same?

There was a preponderance of children in our stand… and they seemed to grow in numbers all through the first half, like Dickensian street urchins flocking towards a dandy. My theory for this is that other kids around the ground had noticed the banter between the original kids (a junior cricket team) and the dancing girls.

Some of the kids were cunningly using the NPower cards to display “69″ towards the nubile ladies. I’m sure I wouldn’t have had a clue what that meant at the age of 10. Perhaps they didn’t either.

Even Lanky Giraffe got in on the act, steaming in for a kiss - denied, unfortunately, despite his rather fetching dance moves. “They’re too young for ya, Lanky!” jeered the crowd. Not in giraffe years, clearly. At half time, all the dancing girls came together right in front of us, around a manilla jacketed chap who’d appeared from nowhere. No idea who he was, but clearly a Very Lucky Man.

They stopped serving beer just after half time. RUBBISH. But it did mean I could get the tram back to Altrincham and drive home.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
12 Comments »

Lemon Bella writes:

Indian Skimmer and I attended this match due to my brother and his drunken bidding at a charity auction. Phil Tufnell was the guest speaker at the auction and was, according to my brother, “rubbish”. If I ever have cause to arrange a guest speaker from the world of cricket, I now know not to book Phil Tufnell.

The man sitting next to us had bought extra umbrellas. I hate umbrellas because all they do is disperse the water so that one patch of you gets incredibly wet, rather than all of you getting slightly damp. However, the man was very insistent that we used one so we did. He had enough for the people behind us to use too, although I think they only used it out of politeness as well.

It rained a lot, so in the end we were quite grateful for the umbrellas. There were also some bright spells in which there was no rain. Interestingly, cricket occurred during the rainy bits and not during the bright spells.

This is most definitely the way forward. Shivering in a rain jacket is so much more enjoyable when there’s cricket to watch, and during the dry spells you can read a book or go in search of pies, so you really don’t need any cricket to watch.

It was clear that the crowd appreciated the innovative and practical way the umpires and regulators dealt with a tricky situation. Personally, I particularly liked the bit where, when a result was imminent, they took everyone off lest the crowd see any kind of “match”. “Matches” are so old-fashioned and only hold the game back.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
24 Comments »

Lemon Bella writes, or rather ‘wrote’. Sorry for the delay. The disorganisation that led to this match report’s delayed appearance is totally, totally uncharacteristic. Totally.

TOTALLY… Anyway, Lemon Bella writes:

Indian Skimmer and I went to the Kent v New Zealand match.

On the first day there was quite a lot of actual cricket and we watched it. Although, when Justin Kemp walked past in a pair of shorts we watched that for a while. We hope the ECB let Justin Kemp stay. Even if they say he can’t, we hope Kent still employ him to occasionally walk past us in a pair of shorts.

At breakfast on the second day our B&B man told us that Michael Vaughan’s time was up. We know better than to dismiss his statements now, so we’re expecting Michael Vaughan to be ousted any time soon.

It rained so hard on our walk in to Canterbury that we turned around and went to the zoo instead of the cricket. We saw a lot of bored animals lying around and scratching themselves. This is exactly what we would have seen at the cricket, so we felt justified in our decision.

In the afternoon there was some sun, so we drove to the cricket ground. They wanted to charge us £10 for parking at the ground despite there being only half a day left. This made us ANGRY so we parked at the bottom of the hill (£2.70) and walked up instead. We told a man about this and he was ANGRY about it too. We don’t know who he is, but he always seems to know what’s going on so we think he may be employed by KCCC in some capacity. We hope it’s something to do with car park pricing policies.

On the final day, we stopped for coffee on the way to the ground. There were New Zealand coaching staff in Café Nero and one of them knocked our coat on the floor. We waited around to see if Brendon McCullum would appear and order a low fat hazelnut latté with extra foam, but he didn’t.

Play was called off once ducks settled on the outfield, so we drove home and watched Stargate: Ark of Truth on DVD and ate chocolate brownies.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
18 Comments »

668 Neighbour Of The Beast sent us what can only be described as a monumental match report. You people are picking on us because we admitted that we felt bad when we had to edit stuff out.

Here’s the shortened version:

As part of this year’s getting out and seeing new grounds thing, I thought I would go and watch Durham at their most southerly fixture. Its always difficult for them this far south.

Despite the recent run of bad weather, ice cream stocks are still low. I couldn’t get either a blue bubblegum or a cherry ice lolly and had to settle for an apple one. I rode out my resentment by sitting in a deck chair. I found the blue stripy assembly and also the ice lolly rather soothing. I heartily recommend both.

Day two had all the makings of a disastrous day - time obsessed man was on my bus. I wasn’t prepared for him being around on a weekend 214 and had sat perilously close and within his firing line. Luckily for me some new-in-town Scousers had drawn the shorter straw by sitting even closer, cheerfully taking the full brunt of his continual circular time-based questions.

They have a WAGs enclosure at Hove (to exhibit them properly, or perhaps to keep them away from the knitwear fanatics?). It’s a wooden construction; a cross between a rabbit hutch and a Swiss-style chalet, with a garden furniture area. It reminded me of the time I spent a summer living in a similar wooden prefab – a ‘cricket pavilion’ as it was apparently described in the sales brochure.

Yesterday, Big Steve walked past, not looking grumpy at all and I told him I thought he was ‘just fantastic’. He said: ‘Thank you’. He must have held onto that thought because today he was just that - fantastic. I then went and visited the beach and the pier. I had several pisco sours for tea.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
10 Comments »

Sarah comma Canterbury writes:

I went to bed late on Sunday evening. It was raining.

My alarm woke me on Monday morning. It was raining even harder.

I had a shower and got dressed; went downstairs; made a coffee; ate a raspberry yoghurt; and looked outside. It was still raining.

I pottered about for a while and watched the Test match when it started.

It stopped raining but by then it was too late. The Nevill Ground was apparently awash and the game abandoned.

Stupid weather.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
18 Comments »

Matt B writes:

I was up in Wolverhampton visiting my Dad. By late afternoon the relentless excitability of my seven year-old Chinese step-sister, the listlessness caused by a new lurgy and the lure of a still sweltering sunny day drove to me escape the house for a little bit of liberty and peace of mind. My destination? A bit of willow on leather healing.

First I had to cross Tettenhall common which was pockmarked by small gangs of local teenage hoodlums congregating in alcoholic communion. But after making it through a solid-looking line of trees, I found myself suddenly at the fine ground of Wolverhampton CC.

The perimeter fencing included the usual odd advertisements for some local insurance company with cricket ball sized holes punched through them. Behind the fencing, in a particularly pleasant arc of the ground, three cars were pulled up with exceedingly elderly couples sitting in the front seats, silently taking in the day’s play - presumably doing what they’ve done for the last 100 years. In fact one of the cars consisted of three women - two in their eighties sitting on deck chairs beside the car and another inside who was at least 130.

After making sure I didn’t move behind the bowler’s arm, I continued towards the clubhouse. Turns out the opposition were Leamington CC, who I’m sure used to be in the lower Warwickshire League along with my former team Moseley Ashfield CC. Arriviste bastards.

I wanted a nosy in the clubhouse and after gently hurdling the 50cm high white fencing that was no doubt there to make the spectators in front of the pavilion feel important, I peered inside. I was to learn that the groundsman had sold his house to pay for the new clubhouse, which was to include, on the top floor, accommodation purpose-built for him. Whether he was forced into this money-saving scheme or actually wanted his own tower, I cannot say.

Remembering that a King Cricket disciple had claimed that TVs in pavilions show every sport other than cricket, I noted that a play-off between northern heavyweights Darlington and Rochdale was temptingly flickering in the corner.

A perusal of the walls revealed a 1908 combined team photo featuring the club captain’s Select XI versus a WG Grace Select XI. Totally dominating the picture was an absolutely massive man with an enormous, wild-looking face and huge, black beard. The scorecard said he didn’t get much in either innings and I wondered if the people of Wolverhampton had been subjected to one of his famed bellicose rants.

On skipping over the little fencing on the other side, I noticed a sign saying ‘This enclosure is for club members only’. I didn’t care - I was off home for tea.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
4 Comments »

The Atheist from Are You A Left-Arm Chinaman? writes:

I was excited about going to see my first match of the season. This would be a perfect opportunity to wear my sun-hat without the usual sense of shame associated with over-keen headgear. Although its powers are potent, it didn’t prevent pre-match embarrassment on the trains.

I caught the eye of a busker at Monument Station. The hat could not prevent the subsequent blushing and awkwardness. I also saw three grown men play with a remote control car in a car park. They were displaying the sort of dedication that the building of mighty, pink beer-bellies requires.

I also attempted to buy a pair of cheapo sunglasses in the Kennington Tesco. It failed me. I suggest you boycott Tesco when purchasing your fashionable shades in the future.

I noticed that many previous correspondents voiced a preference for pies. I was determined not to eat pie. It was summer; it was sunny; it was hot. This was not pie weather. Maybe a salad? Or an honest sandwich even.

The Oval disagreed.

“I think you’ll find that climactic conditions favour the pie” said the ground, “so that is all you shall have.”

Bloody know-it-all stadiums.

The one saving grace was the pie-monger’s resemblance to an old work colleague. Every Monday morning, we would gather around her office with our plastic cups of coffee as she regaled us with stories of her weekend’s sexual adventures. Her tales, if matter-of-fact in their delivery, were vivid and precise in their detail.

“He did this, which I didn’t like. Then he did that, which I did like.”

We would all try to empathise as we reflected on our own weekends of half-completed DIY projects and trips to the supermarket.

We used to wonder whether there was a bloke, in some other part of London, providing an equally meticulous account.

“She did this, which I didn’t like. Then she shut up, which I did like.”

He was probably sitting behind me. He shouted a lot. “Eh-ssex! Eh-ssex! EH-SSEX!” he would say. Sometimes, he would forget the rest of the words. Those moments were like buttered bliss.

In any case, I got very sunburnt. I also saw a nice aeroplane.

Tags: match report by King Cricket
24 Comments »