Adieu to the cricket

No blog yesterday as there was little to report. I’m slightly baffled as to why Shahzad of Yorkshire didn’t get the call to Australia and think Rashid can also be deemed unlucky in missing out. Maybe they need to move to a fashionable county, a little further south. Derbyshire would do fine…

Anyway, tomorrow marks the end of another cricket season with the final fixture at my club. I’ve never played on the last Saturday of September before and though the weather is set fair and the ground looks surprisingly good, the weather has turned a little colder, as if mocking our attempt to play at such a late stage. On my way to work this morning I’m sure I saw a polar bear in a body warmer. I’ve made a mental note to look out a vest, extra T-shirt, long johns and additional long-sleeved sweater. When its my turn to bowl it’ll take me five minutes to disrobe…

I hope it’s a good day, because last games of the season need and deserve one. Around five years ago I played in the last game of the year at our ground and was one of the last to leave with a long-time team-mate. As we closed the gate, which swung to with a creak and closed with a clatter, we looked back across the ground. The trees were multi-coloured, their Autumn foliage in full display, while on the square, which would see little other activity for several months, a couple of rabbits were already moseying around on a good length. The sun was weak, but there nonetheless and the two of us admitted we felt quite wistful at another summer’s end. My pal is 61 and has played for the club since it began, 26 years ago. He said this year would be his last, but has enjoyed it so much that there’s at least one more, maybe ten. With well over 150 catches and over 100 stumpings in that time he is a club legend and deservedly so.

It’s strange really. As I’ve got older I tend to mark each passing year by the cricket season, rather than the calendar. Every December 31 I will normally join my family in our annual celebration of the New Year, while watching Jools Holland, playing a few games, eating more nuts and sweets than are probably wise and partaking of a couple of light beverages. Yet it is more tradition than anything, especially in Scotland.

For me another year goes by each September. Partly because my birthday comes on the very last day of the month, ensuring I am another year down the line, but also because its another cricket season gone. I’ve always said that I’d play till I’m 60, so I’ve hopefully got another eight ahead of me. My playing ambitions have all been fulfilled though, so I’ve only got the supporting ones left.

I want to see a good, competitive Derbyshire side playing bright, purposeful cricket. I’d ideally see them winning more than they lose and I’d like the wider cricket world to see us as a good, solid outfit. I’d also like to see us play at Scarborough again and would have my B and B booked for that one faster than a Mark Footitt throat ball.

For now such fancies will have to wait. I have a batting order to sort out and tomorrow will need to decide at what stage in the scheduled two twenty-over games my ‘flighted filth’ gets an airing. The the whites can get their final wash of the year before going up into the loft once more.