I am never more terrified of the elderly than when taking guard in the first game of the season. Squelching across a demoralisingly wet May outfield, I wonder whether I should stretch my hamstrings or do a few shoulder circles. Physically, the chances are it’ll do more harm than good, but at least I’ll look like I know what I’m doing.

The departing bat shoulders past me and grumbles something about the groundsman having ‘had a day off’ – a bemusing remark considering that he was run out. The aged opposition players are disarmingly friendly. They clap me in, and their even more aged umpire graciously gives me middle. I glance around, pretending to take in the field before tapping my bat. The
umpire lowers his arm, and my season has begun.

Like many getting back into amateur cricket, I played as a boy.
In an irredeemable insult to my West Yorkshire hometown, my secondary school didn’t have a cricket team; I played for my dad’s club instead. For a couple of years, it was the best thing I could imagine. Then, the charms of fine-leg to fine-leg wore off, and I realised that I was spending most of my Saturday standing in a drizzly field being shouted at by men. So I quit.

It was over a decade until I held a bat again.
The long-established symbiotic relationship between cricket and the pub was a key factor in my reconciliation with the sport. The other was Ben Stokes. 2019 was probably the biggest moment for English cricket since I sat on the hard shoulder with my dad, listening to Kasprowicz glove Harmison to Jones in 2005. As those antics inspired me to take up cricket as a child, so too did
Stokes’ heroics persuade me to give the sport another try fourteen years later.

The start was inauspicious.
If you imagine the cast of Dad’s Army unsuccessfully trying to hit a Windball while falling over, then you’re most of the way there. But from small acorns, somewhat adequate amateur cricket teams grow, and it wasn’t long before we had a handful of friendly fixtures and even a tour under our belt. We christened the club ‘The Arbour XI’ after the park we first played in and after
the number of players ordinarily in a cricket team – truly revolutionary.

I realised I wasn’t good at cricket.
If memory (and PlayCricket) serves me correctly, my first two outings for the Arbour XI elicited scores of 0 and 4. The bizarre lack of TV coverage means you’ll have to take my word about the Goweresque grace of the four I stroked through extra cover. It also means there’s no video evidence of me being promptly bowled out by an 11-year-old on the next ball. Wandering back
to the pavilion, I was surprised to find I’d thoroughly enjoyed the experience of being skittled by a child.

The training was an unexpected high point.
I’d dreaded the nets as a youth. Jaunty glasses and heavy feet made the prospect of having balls launched at me by a tall, sullen boy far from appealing. I was, therefore, delighted by the change of pace that Arbour nets brought. Gentle medium pace, combined with insightful coaching tips like ‘try not to get bowled’, were most welcome.

Over the following months, sessions gradually became better organised, techniques became tighter, and by the start of our first season as a registered club, I had been promoted to the top of the order. If you’d told me this while I was fishing at a Windball in our local park, I’d have laughed at you and then fallen over.

It’s not just how you play; it’s who you play with.
We all want to win. Some (Colin) more than others, but to an extent, we all share that common goal. But one thing that unites almost all of us (except Colin) is the importance of team spirit, enjoyment, and not neglecting the reason we came back to cricket in the first place.
“Inveterate free-drinkers to a man, they wander about the country playing-villages. They belong to the school of thought which holds that the beauty of cricket is that, above all other games, it offers such magnificent opportunities for a long drink and a smoke in the shade.” – P.G. Wodehouse

Want to join us? Get in touch.
If you fancy dusting off your whites or want an excuse to spend a few hours in the sun with a cold drink, we’d love to have you along. It doesn’t matter if you last picked up a bat in school or you’re just here for the incisive post-match debrief; there’s a spot for you in our XI. You can find us on Instagram or Facebook, or drop our skipper a line to find out more.