I play cricket. In fact, in the eyes
of some people – a handful of friends and, well, more than a handful of
ex-girlfriends – too much cricket. The debate around that comment aside,
especially as I approach 40 in a couple of years…….OK, a year and a half…… the
fact is that unless you’ve been part of it, part of a club, a good club, you
just won’t understand why there is such a draw to those of us who play.
Plenty of clubs in plenty of
sports talk about being a “family” but I’ve never found this to be quite the
case so much as in cricket. I’ve played for our club for 24 years. Perhaps 25.
I’ve represented other clubs in that time too, when I was away at uni or couldn’t
get in to the Saturday sides, but across all those years, on Saturdays, Sundays
or both, I’ve represented one club throughout.
This means that I’ve grown up with
some players, seen people join, move away, seen juniors become seniors, get
married, have kids, some players become older, stop playing, and even some
players and supporters pass away, at times far too soon. Whilst cricket may have boring, lengthy
periods of not doing anything to some, these are the moments that make it
unique amongst sports. This is the time when, tea in hand, you talk, bond, muck
about, laugh, resolve all of life’s ills or simply forget that they exist – not
necessarily with like minded souls, but with a mixture of people from all walks
of life who just happen to share one thing – cricket, but with whom you can
talk about anything.
Across the years I’ve captained,
coached, committee’d, quiz mastered, umpired, scored, painted, rolled, you name
it! Aside from actually cutting the hallowed turf, which would only be
permitted once hell had frozen over, I’ve pretty much been involved in every
aspect of club life. But they aren’t the moments that stand out. The moments
that do are almost incidental to the game. Like when a young player I’d known
since they were a junior felt that they could talk to me about being bullied, or
sitting on the boundary benches talking about historic clashes with gentlemen
who stopped playing decades before I started. They are hearing a parent tell me
that they’d rather their kids played cricket at our club that other sports as
it teaches them sportsmanship, or someone asking about how to approach their
boss about handing in their notice or asking for a sabbatical. They are sitting
watching the openers put on a good stand, unable to move from our positions for
fear of angering the cricket gods!
In a world where more and more
people can only converse through a keyboard or screen, where depression and
anxiety are becoming more prevalent, where traditional support networks are neither
as common or as stable as they once were, the importance of the role of team
sport cannot be overlooked. Cricket especially affords that time to be outdoors,
to meet different people, to be competitive but in an arena where sportsmanship
is still held in a high esteem and perhaps above all to talk. In my career I’ve
had to deal with different people from all walks of life, all levels of
responsibility, seniority, all with different motivations but a small area of
common ground and shared interest. Sounds pretty familiar. In my life I’ve had different
challenges, personal and professional, and I’ve been fortunate that I have a
large extended network of support, a family, who I could rely on – whether they
realised it or not.
So, the next time I’m asked, am I
“playing too much cricket?” perhaps I ought to be asking – are you playing
enough?
