(click v CUCC Crusader to watch film and read full post)
First game of the season today- has been for some time- in Cambridge against the university 2nds- the Crusaders. The mob I play this game for use to tour here for a week’s pre-season; play the colleges. 15 years ago I met a Motherwell shirted -or was it Clyde?- bald, drunk Scotsman in a college bar after a game. He was aggressive, abusive and great fun. Irvine he said his name was.
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The plan to play cricket in Pakistan this winter is in umbrae. To blame? Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab. Why? A foreign education, a brief-very brief- study of Arabic at a lifestyle college* in the past, my sometime residence in the families London home, my current residential proximity to an infamous Mosque, multi-citizenship and part moslem parentage- all this added to a previously declared desire to ‘travelplaycricketwrite’ in Pakistan has finally brought me under the gaze of MI5. A detention order under the 2006 Terrorism act is imminent.
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click Up before the beak to read and watch….
With gentle persistence writers, bloggers, etc choose their words to portray themselves as likable, admirable, lovable even. If people like what they read, they might actually like, admire, love you, is the rationale, I think. The aim here is different; to prove I’m a conceited knave, quarrelsome and disagreeable sod. These failings spill out in my run-ins with that paragon of modern virtue: the Middlesex County Cricket League and its disciplinary panel.
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Saturday, September 26, 2009
Click No Cross, No Crown, to watch and read…..
Hard Times. Hard Times. We live in hard times -we’re told daily- and with winter, ever closer each morning, day dreams of a season abroad won’t go away. On hard, flat decks overseas, the first ton? Sri Linka, Windies or India, ideally. But comfort zones won’t do. My gonzo cricket writing pretensions (a unique fancy) tell me Pakistan. Yes I dream of Pakistan. I dream of Pakistan. No one else in the world of cricket wants to go there. Ideal then. Can tell tall tales about my exploits there and eat all the Nihari I can stuff my face with. If I’m down the Old Kent road in January, my dreams will have bitten the dust. Again.
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Saturday, September 5, 2009
At home; last league match of the season. Golden week before. 2 ball duck day after. 3 ball duck today. Still it’s been a goodish season. I have blogged more failures than success. Failure is better for the soul and better material. I was their leg spinner’s league wicket 50.
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Saturday, August 29, 2009
Click v Winchmore Hill to read full post and watch vlog
Golden Duck. Third of the season, on second last game of the year.
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Thursday, August 27, 2009
End of season anxiety disorder has taken hold. The symptoms? A nothing to look forward to glaze in your eyes and jambes lourdes brought on by fear of the unanswerable: what’s the point of winter? Another brilliant Finchley deck; bowled by a thirteen year old on it. After the game, the kid bowled for another hour in the nets. And they say youth is wasted on [...]
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Saturday, August 22, 2009
Eascote at home. Terrorised by the Eastcote express. They had a young fast bowler who charged in and bowled everything; bouncer, yorker, slower ball, round the wicket, over it. I was dazed. I had no idea where, what he was going to bowl. Yet fear of that ball, the one at your bonce, to anticipate it, beat it, duck it, swerve it , is indescribable. Fright and joy all in a short breath
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The best attack I’ve ever faced in a mid-week friendly. Two bowlers with 2000 wickets between them; Desmond Haynes and Jimmy Adams amongst them. It was testing stuff.
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Saturday, August 15, 2009
Where to start? First the back story but please try to get to the end of this very long post. There’s a good punch line
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