I came across an entry in my diary for 24 August 2000 which had me completely…
…forgive the pun…
stumped.
17:00 Children’s Society, Regent’s Park
I couldn’t remember a thing about this event. It certainly wasn’t a Z/Yen thing.
Following some archaeology on the old e-mails, I ascertained that this was some sort of a match between The Children’s Society and Cable and Wireless; but still nothing came back to my memory.
It was clear from the e-mail trail that both Nigel and Chas had been involved with this match, so I wrote to both of them to see if they had any recollection of this event.
I needn’t have worried – yes they did.
Their replies were so comprehensive…
…and amusing…
…that with a little bit of sub-editing they made a very jolly two-hander for the King Cricket website, which published the piece in January 2018 – click here or below to read the piece.
To my mind, this is one of the wonderful things about Ogblog – an opportunity to re-engage such memories. Sometimes an event that was not so memorable for me might have been, for some reason, especially memorable for someone else.
Nigel – still shouting from the rooftops about the August 2000 match, perhaps?
Janie (Daisy) and I weren’t there for the tense ending of that match either. But we were nearby – there in spirit if not in body.
We had been eagerly following the match all day.
But that day was also the birthday of Daisy’s mother, The Duchess of Castlebar. I had bought tickets for the three of us to see a Bach concert at the Wigmore Hall for that evening.
Janie had quite recently acquired a taste for chamber concert halls and baroque music, perhaps a year or two earlier. The Duchess tended to prefer large scale concerts of the Proms variety; we mostly booked those for her. But the Proms don’t get going until a bit later in the summer and it was the 250th anniversary of Bach’s death that year. So Bach at The Wig it was to be.
Anyway, that afternoon the Lord’s Test Match was beautifully poised and/but for reasons I cannot recall – had there been a lot of overnight rain? – the day’s play had been delayed and was playing out until quite late.
The Duchess is an avid follower of the cricket as well as a music aficionado. We called her to let her know that we were on the way to collect her. We could all listen to the ending of the cricket match together on the car radio on our way to The Wig.
As we drove to the Duchess’s residence, England wickets fell and the match seemed to be drifting in The West Indies direction. Daisy and I anticipated a dark mood and we were not disappointed.
Thrown it away, they’ve thrown it away…
…said The Duchess. We set off for Marylebone (the southern end thereof).
The Duchess explained to us, as she had several times before, that Denis (Compton), Ted (Dexter), Colin (Cowdrey) Ken (Barrington), Geoffrey (Boycott) and players of that ilk – whom she had met together with her late husband in the good old days- would not have thrown it away like this.
We arrived at The Wigmore Hall. England hadn’t lost a wicket for a while. Was it possible that they could snatch victory from the very jaws of defeat?
Daisy parked up – it was a warm sunny evening so we sat in the car with the roof open and the car radio on, listening to the denouement of the cricket match.
The Duchess Of Castlebar
Try to imagine the scene, dear reader, as it must have looked to passing tourists who understand little or nothing about cricket. A distinguished-looking septuagenarian with her family sitting in a car leaping around in their seats, oohing and aahing every 45 seconds or so as the commentator spoke.
Then, those same seemingly dignified folk whooping for joy for a while, before sealing up the car and entering the Wigmore Hall. Tourists: meet the English.
Basically it was an organ recital of JS Bach works by Jennifer Bate. When you click that preceding link you get some eye candy as well as the organist in question, as Jennifer Bate shares her name with a subsequent Miss England and sporting WAG.
Click the pic to read about the organist Jennifer Bate
It was a fine concert of mostly well-known Bach organ works. An example of one of the pieces (Bach after Vivaldi as it happens) can be seen and heard below.
A slightly sad coda to this Ogblog piece was the discovery that Jennifer Bate died in March 2020, just a few weeks before I wrote this piece.
Here’s another video of her playing one of the pieces we heard that night; Concerto in C BWV 595 (Ernst arr. Bach).
The first ever picture of The Heavy Rollers, taken, quite brilliantly, by “that joker of a supervisor steward”, Paul Guppy. From left to right starting with, in the green shirt and shades: Nigel, Charles, Jeff, Me (with Hippity & Henry The Duck), David. I have often wondered about the person two seats to the right of David. Did he not want to be seen on camera? Was he having a Sneed-snooze?Had he existentially expired?…
…or perhaps the chap with his head down had just heard one of Paul’s terrible jokes
…at some point a decision was made to make it two days rather than one for 2000. That decision was as yet unmade in early December 1999, when Nigel wrote:
Whatever your reasoning-to see Charles take money off Jeff, Ian’s mascot/s, the cuisine, the cricket even….the time has come to believe in the future. Things can improve.
England v West Indies, same place, Thursday June 15th and possibly 16th too?
Let me know,soon.
Nigel
I cannot see my reply or even any e-mail replies on the e-mail trail, yet somehow we must have all communicated to Nigel our considered opinion on expanding the adventure to two days: YES PLEASE!
We were all working together a lot in late 1999, so my guess is that everyone had the opportunity to discuss the matter with Nigel and for all the arrangements to be communicated by means other than e-mail. An extraordinary thought 20+ years later.
In the absence of a swathe of photos and documentary evidence, memory evidence is thin. The traditions described in the above two pieces (1998 and 1999) would have been pursued without doubt. We will have stayed at Wadderton, certainly on the Wednesday and Thursday night. David will have done the honours with the picnic on both days. Jeff will have done Edgebaston [sic] betting sheets. I would have trained home on the Friday evening.
One strong memory I have of this episode was a moment of fame for one of my mascots, Henry the Duck.
Same location, same two teams, four years later
I’m pretty sure it was on the TV highlights we saw at Wadderton on the evening after the first day’s play. I’m guessing it was when Graeme Hick was out for a duck, the camera panned to Henry for a few moments and Michael Holding said, words to the effect of:
that just about sums it up.
Traditions take a while to settle, of course. Even The Heavy Rollers. So there was some fragmentation and controversy that summer.
No-one has ever managed to establish why Nick “The Boy Malloy” Bartlett wasn’t there. Nick is convinced he wasn’t invited. Nigel insists that he would only have needed the nod from Chas and Nick would have been an automatic pick. There are rumours that some indecision might have been involved. The truth will never be established.
That event might inadvertently have kicked off the short spate of ill-conceived attempts by senior Children’s Society folk to join The Heavy Rollers and the resulting accusations of elitism.
On Day Five of the fifth test, Jeff Tye called me in the morning and suggested that we “walk up” and see the day’s play together, as it promised to be potentially historic – indeed it turned out unquestionably so. As I explain in the above piece, to my regret since, I let work get in the way. Jeff was smarter and/but went to the Oval on his own that day.
How or why they reached their decision to invite me to join them in 1999 is shrouded in mystery and secrecy, other than to say that I was working very closely with Charles, Nigel and Jeff at that time; I suspect cricket came into the casual conversation quite a few times.
My diary suggests that I originally planned to make it a day trip on that Thursday but reworked my plans into a three day visit to the West Midlands, the first two of which revolved around several meetings organised by Charles and (separately) Jeff and Nigel at The Children’s Society’s West Midlands Conference Centre, Wadderton.
Wadderton, The Spiritual Home Of the Heavy Rollers
Wadderton – Photo by Charles Bartlett
In the early years of The Heavy Rollers (and, heck, 1999 was only the second year of this great tradition) the overnight meal and chat at Wadderton before the match was a quintessential element of the experience. So was the enjoyment of a David Steed picnic at the cricket (see example in headline photo), lovingly prepared by David (who ran Wadderton) and schlepped by him and several others of us to Edgbaston.
Those who rolled in 1999 (and the nicknames I gave them all some years later) were the following:
Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett;
Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks;
“Big Papa Zambezi” Jeff Tye;
David “David Peel” Steed;
Nick “The Boy Malloy” Bartlett (like me, a 1999 initiate);
Me “Ged Ladd”.
Only one 1998 character was dropped from the original 1998 five; Paul “Fifth Beatle” Griffiths. The who, what and why of Paul’s “dismissal” should be told by someone far better able to explain than me (Nigel). One of the reasons, as I understand it, was Paul’s inability to engage realistically with the prediction betting game.
The Prediction Betting Game
Ah, the prediction game! One of the several traditions that appears to have emerged almost fully formed in the earliest incarnation of the Heavy Rollers. Jeff was the curator of that game originally, handing out sheets asking attendees to predict, at the start of the day, an array of different scores and match factors achieved at various intervals in the day. 50p per line, placing a theoretical five to seven pounds at risk, although most people would end up merely a pound or two up or down. It’s not about the money, it’s about the bragging rights. Actually, come to think of it, it’s not even about that. It’s traditional, so of course we do it each year.
Within two or three years, I had taken up the prediction game mantle from Jeff, as my mental arithmetic and precision in applying rules was deemed, by the majority, to be superior to that of Jeff; not the highest benchmark I have ever exceeded, but there we go. I think I might even have carried forward Jeff’s traditional mis-spelling of the word Edgbaston as Edgebaston the first time I did the sheets. Below is the earliest version that survives in electronic form – 2004 -but this e-template was created in 2002.
The Steed Picnic Followed By (As Night Follows Day) The Steed Snooze
The headline picture (one of Charles’s many superb efforts) depicts an example of a David Steed-style picnic (actually Jeff Tye brought this picnic, in 2003 as it happens), set out atop the fence at the front of the Priory Stand. In those days, the Priory Stand’s front row extended pretty much to the boundary, making those seats an excellent front row view and an opportunity to chat with unsuspecting fielders who might be standing very close indeed to us, guarding that part of the boundary.
The coloured clothing is kids playing Kwik Cricket during lunch
Beady-eyed observers and cricket historians will observe, to the right of the picture, a plastic cup filled with lightly coloured liquid that resembles, in look, white wine. It is white wine. David always ensured that there was plentiful wine for the picnic. In those early years, I think it was still permissible to bring alcohol into the ground. Latterly, when such permission was revoked, various “drinks muling” operations were devised. David’s best was un-shelling wine boxes and disguising quite large quantities of wine as picnic coolers at the bottom of his hamper.
Most would take some wine with the lunch. Some would also be partaking of beer; some would stick with beer, some would only drink wine.
Most of us, if we are being honest, would be a little hazy on the details of the sessions of play after lunch. But David could be relied upon to go a step or two further, having an extended snooze – sometimes dropping off even before the resumption of play after lunch. It was part of the Heavy Rollers tradition. It would have been rude of David not to snooze. It would have been even more rude of us not to observe the snooze and incorporate the only uncertain aspect of it (the exact timing) into the prediction game.
That Particular 1999 Heavy Rollers Event
I especially remember socialising at Wadderton on the evening before the event. It was possibly the first time that I had spent significant social time with Nigel and Jeff. I had got to know Charles a year or so earlier and therefore better – not only through work events at Wadderton that had required overnight stays and evening time together, but also through the early Z/Yen & Children’s Society sporty socials, including cricket, tennis & even ten-pin bowling (Ogblogs to follow).
One aspect of the night before which sticks in my mind is seeing a “big match build up” piece on the TV – I think it might have been on the local West Midlands news – but this was excitingly unusual for me as I had no TV in those days. I would sometimes see TV at Janie’s place but I don’t think I’d previously experienced that feeling of watching a news/magazine item on the TV and thinking “I’ll be there witnessing that tomorrow”.
I remember little, in truth, about the day itself, other than the impressionistic view that I had a superb time and very much hoped that the experience would be repeated…
…although I’m not sure that I would have imagined in my wildest dreams that the tradition would be sustained into a third decade.
I used to buy a programme in those days (I gave up on that some years ago as I tended barely to look at them after I while – I still have my 1999 one.
I do remember wanting and advocating for bowling changes far too frequently. Every time I said “I think they should have replaced so-and-so” – more than once Andy Caddick -that bowler would go on to take a wicket…or two.
I also recall wondering out loud whether Nasser Hussein was desperate bringing Mark Butcher on to bowl before lunch, only for Butch, naturally, to take a wicket. Jeff Tye in particular found my low-grade captaincy ideas hilarious.
One tradition that was not formed from the outset, but which flowed from/after the 1999 gathering, was the idea that one day of Heavy Rolling at the test was insufficient for our cricketing appetites and that we should aim for two henceforward.
I suspect that most of the others stayed at Wadderton after that 1999 day at the test and I’m not too sure how I got my luggage and myself back to London. I suspect that David Steed had arranged a mini-bus of some sort to take the group back to Wadderton and arranged for my luggage to be brought on it. I vaguely remember being dropped at Five Ways and wending my way back to Birmingham New Street and then home from there.
When I say “home”, I was staying at Janie’s that summer while “The City Quarters” were being refurbished. That explains why I recall watching highlights on the TV at the end of that day – another rare treat for me at that time.
The Aftermath
I wrote to most of the Rollers at 9:00 the next morning:
To: HINKS NIGEL; BARTLETT CHARLES; TYE JEFF Subject: 1 July 1999
also to David by post
Just a quick note to thank you all for the good company yesterday and especially to thank Nigel for organising it and David for making the splendid spread. It was a super day out.
Sun is shining today – easier wocket – here’s to 350+ for England. (Hope springs……..)
See you all soon.
Ian
Charles wrote the following response to all the e-mailees at lunchtime:
Having just heard that England are 45 for 6 I think 350 is a trifle optimistic!..
Charles
In a vain attempt to extricate myself with my dignity intact, I wrote the following missive at 7:30 a.m. on the Monday:
Gentlemen
Like I said – 350+ 1st innings (226 NZ + 126 Eng = 352 – which is more than 350) – there’s creative accounting for you. Anyway, England won and the naysayers were confounded.
Ian
Nigel responded pithily:
(Never)Trust an accountant!
The Heavy Rollers tradition of post-match e-mail bants was now well and truly formed. Although, given my dire prediction skills in 1999, the biggest surprise is that the elders of The Heavy Rollers didn’t give me “the Fifth Beatle treatment”, but instead, thank goodness, invited me back again…and again…and again…
Image “Diving For A Tie” produced in collaboration with Dall-E
The headline is a little deceptive, because Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett and I were not in Barcelona the City, but we were, along with a great many Z/Yen people and one or two other Children’s Society people, in Barcelona, the tapas and wine bar in The City.
Twenty years later, at the time of writing, Barcelona is still there – click the image for a link.
I had spent the whole day in the City. My diary says we had a PAYE inspection that day. I think it might have been that magnificent day that the inspector challenged us for claiming that we had an expenses procedure dispensation (which of course we did have) as he could find no record of us ever having been issued with such a dispensation. Linda Cook went to the archive files and dug out our dispensation letter which happened to have been issued by “Phil”, the very tax inspector who was before us that day. He almost apologised, claiming that files had been lost in an office move. He didn’t stay long after that.
But of course you don’t win tax inspections; the best you can hope for is an honourable draw or a tie.
Which brings me to the World Cup Semi Final.
But before that I need to explain why Charley The Gent was at our offices that day. You see, Teresa Bestard, who was one of Z/Yen’s first employees and who had done a great deal of work for The Children’s Society under Charley’s auspices, was leaving Z/Yen that day.
Teresa was (is) a Catalan with roots in Barcelona and Majorca. She chose the Barcelona tapas and wine bar as a suitable venue for her leaving do.
I arranged to meet Charley and Tony to go through some business stuff at Z/Yen around 16:00, so they could conveniently join the leaving do afterwards.
On arrival, Chas did ask me if I was aware of the Australia v South Africa semi-final score. I wasn’t. He told me. I said it sounded close, but edging towards South Africa. Chas said he fancied Australia for the match. He wanted to bet. I said I don’t like to bet. He suggested a one pound stake. I accepted, with the proviso that if the match was a tie, both pounds would go to The Children’s Society.
Chas doing his Children’s Society cricket captain bit, back in 1998
We were not expecting to follow the latter stages of the World Cup Semi-Final, but Barcelona had other ideas. They were pumping the match out on big screens throughout the bar.
Great…
…said the cricket tragics, e.g. me and Charley. Teresa did not seem well pleased. She was already vocally irritated with us for a supposed slight; we had invited Mary O’Callaghan along to the event. Teresa saw this as Z/Yen inviting Teresa’s replacement to Teresa’s own leaving do. Actually we had hired Mary before we even knew that Teresa was leaving and had asked Mary along to several events to meet the team before she joined; this was the one she could make.
Some neutrals, such as Jacqueline Goldberg, Michael Mainelli and Linda Cook, used the language of indifference towards the cricket, but in truth couldn’t help but become more and more interested in the final overs of the match, as it became clear that the result was on a knife edge and the match was a real thriller.
I hope The Children’s Society made good use of the £2 it scored from that bet. The charity benefited from our subsequent charity matches to a much greater extent than this wager.
Below is a video of the highlights/denouement of that match:
Teresa’s leaving do went on for hours after the cricket finished and everyone relaxed into the wine and tapas. It was a very good leaving do for a very special member of the team.
But I’m afraid the cricket tragics amongst us will remember the evening primarily for that astonishing tied World Cup Semi Final, as we lived every moment on those big screens in Barcelona.
This was the first time that Janie (Daisy) ever visited Lord’s.
It was my second ever, and last, visit to Lord’s in the 20th century. It was also the only time I actually bought tickets for Lord’s that century, having been taken as a guest on my sole previous visit there:
Unaccustomed as I was to buying tickets for Lord’s back then…oh boy have I made up for it since…and probably a bit slow of the mark for the World Cup to boot, I ended up getting Lower Compton seats some rows back. All has changed since (he says, 25 years later), but back then the Lower Compton was a wind tunnel affair through which you got a somewhat restricted view and in particular had no clear view on a scoreboard.
Who knew that it can be really cold in London at a cricket match in June? Who failed to learn from this 1999 experience?
Once I became better acquainted with Lord’s for a while I would book the Lower Compton front row, which avoided the wind tunnel and tended to have a decent view. But never again did I make the mistake of buying tickets in the middle or rear of that stand. The new Lower Compton is SO much better.
Returning to 1999, we nevertheless had a great day, despite the ordinary seats. It is so difficult not to have a good day at Lord’s. It was even, somewhat surprisingly, a good match, with Neil Johnson & Murray Goodwin keeping Zimbabwe in the hunt for most of the match. All the Cricinfo resources for this match can be found here.
…again to play with Barnardo’s, but this time also with The Children’s Society.
I know that Ian Theodoreson and Bob Harvey gave us and their Barnardo’s charges every encouragement to make these evenings happen, but I have a feeling that neither of them made it to either evening.
Anyway, it was a very jolly evening and a great chance for people to get to know each other as well as mess around a bit playing cricket.
Not only did Barnardo’s still supply a bunch of dudes who knew what they were doing – see photo above…
…The Children’s Society was also blessed with some half-decent cricketers, including Chief Executive and glove man Ian Sparks:
Ian Sparks on gloves, Harish Gohil at bat; presumably this was warming up pre contestCharles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett – starting as he meant to go on
I can’t remember in detail the playing conditions we came up with for this particular evening, but sort-of having three teams in an after work round robin in August was never going to work brilliantly as matches. I have a feeling we played sort-of eight a side with additional supply fielders from the sides that weren’t batting.
No slide rule – but the Barnardo’s score book and my own trusty light meterReservoir Dogs but without the ultraviolence? Kevin Parker (striding, front left), Rupert Stubbs (hatted, central), Michael Mainelli (arms folded in disgust, right).Spot the ball (obviously going uppishly to backward square leg, that’s me batting)Mainelli looks relieved to have been dismissed.
I still think the whole idea had started with Kevin Parker and some of the Barnardo’s team he was working with – I wonder if I can extract a confession from him.
With thanks to DALL-E for collaboration with the images
This is the tale of a memorable moment, a short and sweet vignette, that went on to help forge many years, indeed decades of friendship and kinship over cricket.
The Sweet Anecdote Of That July Day
I had arranged to spend the afternoon with Jeff Tye at a Children’s Society project in Mitcham; one that Jeff had chosen to be a pilot in our seminal performance measurement and recording project, MART.
I think I had already arranged to visit my parents in Streatham that evening, so I think there was an element of opportunism in the choice of project, although I recall that Mitcham was one that Jeff was especially keen to involve.
I had arranged to pick Jeff up from Children’s Society HQ, having spent the morning with another client relatively nearby (Regents Park).
Jeff was a relatively new client to me then – I think I had only met him a couple of times before this day. I remember rehearsing in my mind a way to broach the question of possibly putting the radio on with test match special as we drove from Clerkenwell to Mitcham. I ended up with a form of words along these lines, just before starting the engine:
Please feel free simply to say no, but would you mind if I put the radio on with test match commentary as we drive from here to Mitcham?
Jeff beamed from ear to ear.
Oh my goodness, I’d been wondering all morning whether or how to ask you exactly the same question. I’m so pleased you asked me!
I thought Jeff might give me a hug, he seemed so pleased.
As we drove along, Jeff explained to me that almost everyone I knew and was working with in that charity was fanatical about cricket, not least: Ian Sparks, Edward Bates, Charles Bartlett, Nigel Hinks and himself.
He also explained that he and several others (including Nigel and Charles) had recently spent a day at Edgbaston watching the first day of the test series.
Jeff and I did our bit at that Mitcham project. When we came out, the sun was shining on a glorious summer’s day. I had arranged to drop Jeff at Tooting and then go on to my folks.
Janie, with Nobby, at his last resting place
I had recently acquired Nobby; my wonderful souped-down Honda CRX, which was convertible by dint of removing its solid roof. Jeff was keen to enjoy the benefit of that, even for a short drive.
You’ve got to take advantage of that feature when you can. How many times have you taken the roof off? [Once before, I think was the answer. Perhaps twice.] Anyway, you’ve got to show off that feature to your parents by arriving at their house with the open top.
Of course Jeff was right. So there we were – big Jeff – quite clearly oversized for a small car like Nobby – in the passenger seat – me – in the driving seat – driving along Tooting Broadway and Tooting High Street, listening to the cricket.
South Africa were only four down and nearing 200. I stopped at some traffic lights. Then a crescendo from the radio:
…the umpire’s given him…
Jonty Rhodes, LBW, b Angus Fraser.
Jeff and I both cheered and (to the extent that you can leap when wearing a seatbelt) leapt in the air. Passers by must have thought that we were a pair of lunatics.
The Traditions Forged
Those summer weeks of 1998 were, for me, a reawakening of my devotion to cricket. We had arranged a second game of cricket with the Barnardo’s people; I re-engineered it to include Children’s Society folk as well as Z/Yen and Barnardo’s
Of course, I cannot write the story of the actual origins of The Heavy Rollers. That story can only be written by one of the people who attended Day One of the Edgbaston Test in June, witnessing a rare example in those days of England batting long.
In fact – let’s name names here – the true Heavy Rollers origins story can probably only be written by Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks, who can also relate tales of proto-visits to matches with colleagues before the 1998 outing that is deemed, by all the leading authorities, to be the first actual Heavy Rollers event.
It’s hard to believe that the Heavy Rollers tradition will be quarter-of-a-century old this year, as I write in January 2023.
When I look at the names connected with the, for me, seminal summer of cricket that was 1998, I am still in touch with so many of them. Not just the Heavy Rollers, but also Kevin Parker and Ian Theodoreson who initiated the playing of cricket tradition that was later adopted even more wholeheartedly by the Children’s Society gang. Even Angus Fraser, who took the wicket that made me and Jeff leap. is still in my orbit, through my Middlesex and Lord’s activities.
I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.
Quintessential Harris shot, late 1990s: the uppish leg-side hoick
Between 1984 and 1998 I pretty much didn’t play cricket at all. Perhaps the odd knock around when I was in my mid twenties, then there were the dog years of the early 1990s following my catastrophic back injury in the summer of 1990. After that, my cricket “career” was limited to a bit of watching and the odd umpiring stint…
…until the summer of 1998.
That summer, Z/Yen was still doing work with Barnardo’s and had also by then got heavily involved with The Children’s Society. Thus it transpired that our main client contacts, especially at the latter, were keen cricketers.
But the initial challenge came from Barnardo’s and I think it was Kevin Parker who initially picked up the challenge. The idea was promulgated with the blessing of Barnardo’s senior folk, Ian Theodoreson and Bob Harvey, but sadly not their presence.
So like buses, no cricket for years and then two matches came along in a row. The first of them was just Z/Yen and Barnardo’s.
Z/Yen – a tiny company with about 10 employees in those days. Barnardo’s employed several thousand people, a great many of whom worked at the Barkingside campus.
Barnardo’s had quite a lot of people who knew what they were doing for a cricket match…
One of the Barnardo’s IT team, if I recall correctly
…whereas Z/Yen didn’t. I press-ganged a few likely folk and we tried our best against adversity, but adversity…by which I mean Barnardo’s…were destined to win.
By the time we got to this first match, I think that the plans for a second match, which ended up including people from The Children’s Society, were already in place, so I think we all saw this first one as a bit of a warm up.
But Micky’s one and only experience of cricket had very little to do with warm up. Micky is from Belgium and fancied having a go. He’s that sort of “have a go” chap. Back in 1998, he wasn’t exactly displacing a queue of Z/Yen people who wanted to play…
…let’s be honest about this, we were struggling to get a team together; hence the cunning plan to bring in The Children’s Society enthusiasts for the next one.
…I thought Micky might be safest patrolling the boundary.
But Micky did no warming up or keeping warm exercise ahead of the ball coming vaguely in his direction about 20-30 minutes into the match. He set off enthusiastically around the outfield only to pull up with a hamstring tear some 10 yards shy of the ball.
So when it was Z/Yen’s turn to bat, we not only had to explain the way batting works to Micky, we also had to provide him with a runner and explain how that arcane aspect of the laws of cricket works too.
Not ideal.
Yet still a good time was being had by all.
My other very clear memory is my own experience batting in partnership with a gentleman named Nigel. He was Karen Moore’s partner or husband, so qualified to play for Z/Yen on those grounds. He might otherwise have seemed like a ringer.
Nigel was no cricketer but he was a fitness instructor and had a Mr Motivator manner and clearly was a talented all-round sportsman.
I was scratching away, barely able to put bat on ball…
…well I hadn’t played for 14 years or so…
…until Nigel came to the crease, only to start whacking the ball using just hand-eye and natural talent.
Come on Ian, you can do it…
…Nigel hollered encouragingly and convincingly from the non-strikers end. And strangely, feeding off Nigel’s ill-founded confidence in me and the freedom that added to my game, I started to score some runs and contribute well to our partnership.
OK, we couldn’t turn the game around, but we had a decent knock – perhaps I put on 10-12 – which I remember making me feel well chuffed.
I think the match took place near Barkingside – I think Fairlop – perhaps Old Parkonians – my diary is silent on detail.
Postscript: my memory has served me well. I wrote this up for Now & Z/Yen at the time thusly:
Z/Yen defied all the spread bets by coming a close second in a cricket competition in late July, against Barnardo’s, at Fairlop. Z/Yen highlights included Jane Beazley taking a wicket, Michael Mainelli scoring 16 runs “baseball style”, Michel Einhorn pulling a hamstring and a stunning undefeated partnership of 36 runs in three overs between Ian Harris and Nigel Moore.
None of these stunts were enough to prevent Barnardo’s from deservedly winning by 23 runs. Unlike our good friends at Barnardo’s, Z/Yen took the obvious precaution of bringing some children along with us, only one of whom succeeded in getting a black eye trying to retrieve the ball. It was an amazing summer evening, which showed the weather characteristics of spring, autumn and winter during the two hours of play. The weather improved once we retired to the sports centre for beer and cake. Watch out for the next similar event; it was a smashing evening.
The full stack of pictures (from both matches) might help savvy locals to work it out:
25 years ago, I got very excited when I scored a rare (or relatively rare) book in a second hand bookshop. Latterly, if I want such a book I sit on my backside for a few minutes, possibly only a few moments, find the book on-line, part company with my money and wait for the nice delivery person to bring the book to my door.
Back then, I made occasional trips to Hay-On-Wye and kept lists of books that I particularly wanted.
One such book was the original Boundary Book – a collection of essays about cricket from 1961. Not the oft-found “Second Innings” Boundary Book – also produced as a Lord’s Taverners fundraising machine – I acquired a copy of that easily enough and would always see multiple copies of that one in the Hay-On-Wye shops. It was the “hard to find” original I wanted.
I particularly remember the unlikely circumstance in which I found the book. Not in any of the shops that had decent sports/cricket sections (where I was repeatedly told that the original Boundary Book was hard to find), but in a small, generalist bookshop that had caught my eye for some other reason. I asked, almost as an afterthought, if they had any cricket books. “Possibly”, I was told, “there’s just a shelf or two of sports books over there”.
There, on one of those sparse shelves, was my long-sought-after book. Not only a copy, but a copy in excellent condition, with the dust jacket in well preserved order and even the original cricket bat bookmark on a piece of ribbon. £3. I thought about it for a fraction of a second and eagerly bought the book. “Ah, you found a cricket book”, said the shopkeeper. “Believe it or not, I found the very one I was looking for”, said I. He smiled, probably thinking I was just being polite…or trying to be funny.
I didn’t really know what I would find in the original Boundary Book – other than a collection of essays written just before I was born. But for some years I had longed to satisfy that archetypal book-lover’s quest, to track down a particular desired book. In any case, I had the sense that some of the best essays that Lesley Frewin gathered for his charity fundraising cricket books project over the years will have been in the first of those books…and I was right about that. There are many truly excellent essays in that original Boundary Book.
One essay in particular was to have a profound effect on me and my future following of cricket – an essay by Stephen Potter (the One-Upmanship fellow), called Lord’smanship.
It was that essay, in which Potter confesses to being a member of Middlesex CCC (MCCC) but not a member of Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), that caused me to plan to join Middlesex as a life member on my fortieth birthday, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Now I am a life member of both MCCC and the MCC. But I still like Bach and I still have a beard and I suspect that the sound I would emit saying “MCCC” would still be indistinguishable from “MCC”, especially if I were to say it after two or three G&Ts.
