World Cup 2015 report

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2 minute read

Sam writes:

My baby was due to enter the world on February 18th, just a few days into the tournament. Not ideal timing, but at least he wasn’t interrupting The Ashes.

In the end, he was late. Five days after the scheduled start of his innings, at risk of being timed out, things began to stir. We were just getting used to the comfortable preliminary round, experimenting with fielding positions and fine-tuning the batting order, when the situation suddenly became a bit more serious. Flashing lights, pained expressions, screaming and shouting – we were now well and truly into the knockout stages.

You can do all the net practice you like, but out in the middle it’s a different matter entirely. I proved myself a useful partner at home, picking up singles and keeping the partnership ticking along, but once in hospital I froze. All padded up with nowhere to go, I stood paralysed at the non-striker’s end as my darling wife held firm in the face of an almighty onslaught. Time and again she went down; the physio told her to retire hurt, to accept a runner, but she would not budge. She stared back at the bowler with a determined glare, took a deep breath and re-marked her guard.

The moment of triumph, when it came, was strangely muted. Despite having had my eyes fixed on this life-changing landmark for so long, I hadn’t really considered how I might react when it finally arrived. Should I look to the heavens and thank the Almighty? Get down on my knees and kiss the pitch? Or embark on a lap of honour, arms aloft, twirling my bat to the four corners of the stadium?

Nothing has been the same since. They say you never forget your first – a monkey off the back, an unsullied glimpse of a dazzling future, your place in the world secure forever. There will undoubtedly be low points – dips in form, tantrums, bad decisions, horrific collapses, entire days lost to bad weather. But a platform has been set, and now we must make hay while our son shines.


Mike Gatting wasn't receiving the King Cricket email when he dropped that ludicrously easy chance against India in 1993.


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  1. V nice writing Sam – executed your skills well and hit all the right areas. Excellent team effort

  2. Your son shines? What have you been feeding him?

    Absolutely brilliant, radioactive baby aside.

    1. Lovely report. Thank you Sam, but I think “the non-striker’s end” may stay with me for a while.

    1. You should go into the greeting card business, Bert.

      ‘Happy birthday, many happy returns, and so on and so forth.”

    2. Merry Thursday

      Your brother in pain, sorrow, etc.

      So does the little boy have a name, or are you going for that modern names-are-so-bourgeois-we-aren’t-going-to-bother approach? A patronymic, maybe (Sam Samson)? Un homage (We’ve decided to christen him Alastair Jonathan Jimmy de Graeme Stuart, Ronald for short). Or is it Charlotte, which seems popular at the moment?

    3. Stuart? I hope not. He’ll keep appealing for his toys, even when they’re obviously out.

    4. It’s Locryn. An old Cornish name. Likely to be the first of his name to play for England.

    5. When he spends hours occupying the crease, just like Trotty, they’ll be able to say, “Locryn Locked In!”

    6. Nice name.

      Although, you do realise it has “cry” embedded in it? You’ve only yourselves to blame.

  3. Congrats Sam, great report. I went through this great life moment myself in December, although I’m trying unsuccessfully to think of a cricketing metaphor for my wife’s C-section, something to do with Duckworth-Lewis perhaps, or an early declaration?

  4. It seems that you’re consistently putting the balls in the right areas, Sam.

    Well done.

  5. Mine was due on the 8th Feb and arrived on 20 Feb. Turns out, Sri Lanka v Afghanistan can be completely riveting when you’re awake all night feeding a newborn.
    Congrats on the new arrival!

  6. Ged & Daisy reporting in from Dublin, where England yet again failed to beat a mediocre underdog minnow side in an ODI, allowing a little bit of light drizzle bring an early halt to proceedings.

    We followed the score from the relative comfort of the Holyhead to Dublin arc, with no acuAl intention to venture as far north as Malahide. Still, we feel cheated.

    1. Ark!!

      Hate using mobile phone with predictive doodah for the KC appeals!!

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