I very often take in the whole of the first day of the cricket season at Lord’s, most often with Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett, e.g. last year…
…but this year the date didn’t work for either of us – in my case because I needed to be in Westminster until about 14:30 that day.
I thought that Escamillo Escapillo might be able to join me for a couple of hours later that day, not least because his beloved Lancashire would be at play, but he too was committed elsewhere all day.
But I had arranged to play tennis at Lord’s that evening, so I packed a good book along with my tennis kit and work necessities and headed off to the ground as soon as my work commitments allowed me. I got to Lord’s just before 15:00; with some 45 overs still to play, that would be nearly half a day of cricket before my tennis.
Result…
…by which I mean, a result for me.
Not a result in the match, obviously, which is designed to last four days (he says for the less cricket aware who might have stumbled across this piece in search of enlightenment).
I dropped my tennis things in the dressing room and took to the middle balcony for a while, but I was wicked cold in the shade there and enviously eyed up the sunny spot at the junction of the Grandstand and the Compton Stand, where I had re-read The Price Of Fish last season, as reported on King Cricket:
From that very spot, in the bright, chilly-yet-tolerable sunshine, I was able to take a picture of Jimmy Anderson bowling to Eoin Morgan. Not bad, I thought at the time, for a second division fixture in April.
For the uninitiated, I should point out that the pitch was located on the northern side of the square, so the southern stands (pictured) were unpopulated, whereas there was a fair crowd in the Grandstand and its fellow north-side stands.
When the sun cruelly abandoned my sunny spot, it immediately went from feeling bearably chilly to unbearably chilly, so I relocated back to the pavilion, taking up a seat in the unusually but unsurprisingly crowded Writing Room (north side, behind glass).
There I read a bit and bumped into some friends/acquaintances, not least Phil. I would previously have described Phil as an Australian with whom I occasionally play real tennis, but he turns out to be a Lancashire supporter who was born in Jimmy Anderson’s home town of Burnley. Phil went to Australia as a child and relocated to the UK some years ago. Phil kindly bought me a soft drink and we chatted cricket for the first time – our previous conversations having been diverse but, in the matter of sport, solely real tennis related.
Phil will henceforth become known as “The Burnley Bradman” for Ogblog and King Cricket pseudonym purposes.
After stumps, I needed to warm up a bit – we had taken our soft drinks on the balcony of the Bowlers’ Bar. So I read inside for a while and then did a long stretching session before playing tennis.
I had, perhaps foolishly, consented to play an additional hour after my 19:00 scheduled hour, as one of the 20:00 fellows had pulled out at short notice. Two hours of singles is a bit much at my age, especially as the 20:00 dude turned out to be a 29 year-old who had played to a pretty decent level when at University.
Actually the two hour slot worked out pretty well for me. The first hour was against a relative newbie to whom I had to give an infeasibly large handicap. He is clearly very able, just inexperienced, so it made for a fascinating battle which ended up just about even-stevens, with him pipping the first set 6-5 and me just ahead 2-1 in the second when we stopped. The second match, against the youngster, I thought I did surprisingly well, given his age, provenance and the meagre handicap I was allowed; I won 6-2 6-5, the second set being a real nail-biter.
