When
I was ten, I dreamt mainly of cricket. At thirty, I dreamt of having young cricket-loving
sons to take to cricket matches. At about forty, I had two sons. Yesterday, with
my fiftieth birthday just gone, I took them to their first proper game (Figure
95.1). It was not just any old encounter either: this was a ‘Roses’ match,
contested by counties Yorkshire and Lancashire since 1849, and whose
associations refer to the 15th-century ‘War of the Roses’. It
remains the greatest rivalry in English cricket.
Figure
95.1: The ‘Twenty20 Blast’ is currently English cricket’s most popular brand.
Copyright
© 2016 Lancashire CCC
As
a young boy, cricket meant white flannels, a game of slow-building tension, and
strategy and tactics akin to those from the game of chess. It was, for me at
least, a relaxing spectacle, something in which I could lose myself from
morning till dusk, day after day. No sport or pastime gave me anywhere near as
much boyhood peace and pleasure as cricket did.
However,
to quote L.P. Hartley (1895-1972): the past is a foreign country; they do
things differently there. We arrived at Old Trafford, home of Lancashire County
Cricket Club, on a smooth, electric ‘Metrolink’ tram, which cruised to a gentle
halt right outside the ground. I know the place well – or rather, I used to. In
the last few years, the ground has changed as much as the game itself. The new spectator
stands are state-of-the-art (Figure 95.2). The ramshackle ‘M’ enclosure, where
I watched England battle with Australia in the famous 2005 Ashes series, is
long gone, and even the 22-yard pitch runs in a different direction.
Figure
95.2: If I could have seen this picture ten years ago, I would have
recognized nothing.
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
Once
inside the turnstiles (Figure 95.3), speaking to the boys became a waste of
time. There was too much for their eyes to absorb for their hearing to kick in.
Behind the magnificent new stands, we came across a rock band on a custom-built
stage (Figure 95.4), grown men dressed as furry animals, promotional stalls, glossy
merchandise stores and multiple beer gardens drenched in the 20°C evening sun.
There was pre-match entertainment for all, and we made the most of it (apart
from the beer).
Figure
95.3: Only £46 for tram and admission combined
Copyright
© 2016 Lancashire CCC
Figure
95.4: Even the band performed at a frenetic pace.
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
At
6:30 p.m., the floodlights came on and the players – Lancashire in bright red and
Yorkshire in cool blue – took to the field. Fireworks exploded from the
boundary (Figure 95.5) and giant flame-throwers blasted fire into the air
(Figure 95.6). We could actually feel the heat in Row 11. (I remember attending
a Cleveland Indians v Chicago White Sox baseball match on U.S. Independence Day
in 1989, and I believed then that American-style razzamatazz would one day
prove irresistible to the English audience, if given half a chance to embrace
it.)
Figure
95.5: So many outdoor events these days begin with either these …
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
Figure
95.6: … or these.
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
The
greatest change, though, has been the philosophy of the game itself. Five-day
Test matches, for all their cerebral and aesthetic appeal, have been pushed to
one side. The requisite attention span seems too demanding for the present
audience. Today’s favoured format lasts a mere three hours, perfect for today’s
youngsters but way too brief for me. (At the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, I once
saw Shakespeare’s Othello performed
in fifteen minutes. Although very clever, and hilarious, most serious
theatre-lovers would have preferred the real thing.)
My
boys – along with thousands of other kids in a capacity 26,000 crowd – lapped up
every high-octane moment (Figure 95.7). They waved their freebie flags and
danced to Pharrell Williams’s Happy,
hoping that the ‘Dance-Cam’ would project their moving images onto the ground’s
two giant screens in real time. A breathless affair from first ball to last,
the cricket did not disappoint. Lancashire batted first, racking up an imposing
total of 204 in their allotted hour-and-a-quarter. Back in my youth, such a
score would have taken at least twice as long to post.
Figure
95.7: Party time in Stand ‘B’
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
After
a fifteen-minute break, Yorkshire chased the total (Figure 95.8). Only the
sublime Joe Root, arguably the world’s best batsman today, offered resistance,
scoring an unbeaten 92 runs, albeit in vain. The excitement ended on schedule
at 9:15 p.m. with a convincing Lancashire victory (Figure 95.9). By 9:25, we
were back on the southbound tram – and able to catch our breath.
Figure
95.8: The names might be different – substitute my heroes, Boycott and Gower,
with my sons’ favourites, Root and Bairstow – but their inspiration to youngsters to love the
game remains exactly the same.
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
Figure
95.9: Story of an English cricket match, as told by two young brothers
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
Some
occasions in life simply have to be
memorable. Mission accomplished.
Copyright
© 2016 Paul Spradbery
