Well, that's it.
As trailed in last week's blog entry, yesterday saw my last day as a regular cricketer. After nearly 35 years of playing competitive team sport (including my footballing days), I'm no longer an athlete. 35 years of honing my body to a finely tuned instrument of sporting prowess can be laid to one side with due reverence and dignity. No more will I have to put myself through the punishing training schedules and fitness regimes. Next time you see me I will probably be a little overweight, the proud possessor of a beer belly, and most of my hair will have gone. Don't be shocked. Just smile and remember me as I once was.
I would be lying if I said yesterday wasn't an emotional day for me.
It was a day when most thoughts began with "This is the last time that I'll..." and were followed by mundane and trivial things like "pack my cricket bag", "run in to bowl", and "drive home from the match".
Regular skipper Steve Tranter asked me to captain the side with the proviso that I opened both the bowling and the batting. This was a wonderfully kind gesture though it did little to steady my lower lip.
We were batting second and as I strapped on my pads, Steve surprised me by revealing that my son was going to open the batting with me. My son and I had never played together before so I was a little choked. I think I managed to blurt out "Thanks Steve" before I hastily turned my face away to concentrate on tying up my boots.
After a brief but hugely enjoyable partnership of around 15, I'm afraid Dad let the side down and perished first. A trademark looping dolly to square leg did for me and as I left the field for the last time it seemed strangely symbolic. Last match of the season nearing Autumn, and the old man shuffling away with a smiling backward glance over his shoulder at the youth who remained. Circle of life and all that. I hope my son's future years playing cricket are as enjoyable as mine have been.
The opposition came together and applauded as I left the field (Thanks Swindon boys), and I don't mind admitting I shed a tear or two.
Steve had arranged a post match meal for us all at local Indian restaurant. It was a lovely evening and an incredibly generous gesture on Steve's part. It gave us all a chance to have a chat and laugh about events from this season and seasons past. I will never forget it as a perfect end to the day, the season, and my career. The only downside was having to leave at all and it provided yet another difficult moment for me as I waved my team mates away into the night.
So all that remains to be done are some very important Thank You's. A big Thank You to Steve Tranter for all he arranged on the last day. Thanks also to Gilly for arranging to video some of the day's events.
I want to thank all of the players I've ever played with. Everyone of you has helped make the journey an exciting and enjoyable one. Thanks too to all those I've played against. Without you there would be no game.
Thanks too are due to my family (especially my long suffering wife) who have had to put up with Dad being away from the house pretty much every summer Saturday over the last 20 years.
Finally, I need to say a big THANK YOU to Stewart Gill and Glyn Martin. Twenty five years of playing cricket in five different clubs has brought me into contact with an awful lot of players. Stewart and Glyn were with me through most of it, and were there with me at the end. Thanks boys.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Journey's End
The first thing to say this week is that the Mighty Penn Fourths have won the league! A fantastic achievement. You can read the full match report here.
However, this blog focuses on the personal side of our cricketing adventures and this week it is very personal.
I've had it in my mind since the start of the season that it would be my last as a player. There are lots of reasons for this and for cathartic purposes as much as any, I detail them below.
1. The Injuries and the Pain. My achilles tendons tighten up like fraying bow strings the days following a game and I literally can't walk properly down the stairs first thing in the morning. After 25 years of slamming my right foot down on the popping crease, my knee joint feels as if it is made of shredded slate. I'm not going to start on the infuriating gluteus maximus injury that STILL hasn't healed and leaves me unable to run properly (see 16th August post. No need to feel guilty Dev).
2. My Type of Player. Batsmen and slow bowlers have a greater longevity than medium (OK, slow medium) pacers like myself. If you bowl medium pace and you want to continue playing a decent standard, you have to be still fit and still quick like Chris Asbury, a class above like Chris Rudge, or naturally talented and obsessed by the game like Stewart Gill. I am none of these things.
3. Youth. We have been blessed this year with 13/14/15 year olds who have bowled in our team and bowled superbly. Tim Howard, Jack Cooper, Michael Hingley, Zak O'Neill, Alex Haynes, James Thomas, George Nock and a few others I probably haven't mentioned are excellent prospects for the future. All of these young players can do the job that I do in the bowling department and it makes no sense at all for me to be hanging around blocking their path.
4. Lack of Options. I've looked at ways of extending my playing days in a different role. I've always fancied keeping wicket but I fear the aforementioned knee will not bear all the crouching. I could shorten the run up and bowl dastardly leg cutters but it's a bit late in the day to be changing my bowling style. I've thought about continuing just as a batsman but erm... I'm not good enough.
5. Time and My Son. My son is playing cricket for the Under 13s and playing well. I've enjoyed watching him, umpiring his matches, doing the scoring etc all season and having played for 25 years myself, it's about time cricket in our house started to focus on him. This year, with both myself and him playing has meant an awful lot of summer weekend time away from home.
6. Finishing on a High. There is a lot to be said for ending one's playing days as a title winner.
7. The Time is Right. This is an indefineable one. It just feels like the right time to go. I don't know why, it just does. Maybe it's a combination of all the things listed above but I have that feeling you get after reading the final page of an enjoyable book. Sad that it's over, but invigorated by the experience.
So there we are. Next week's final league match will probably be my last ever match. That will be an odd feeling I'm sure.
I read today about how some believe that participating in sport is more about the journey than the destination. I think that's a good way of describing it. I've had a fantastic and immensely enjoyable 25 year journey and the final station stop is slowly creeping into view, just a week away.
I need to leave it there as the national and international press have collected outside my house and the neighbours aren't happy. Don't believe it when they publish the 'Exclusive'. You blog fans read it here first.
However, this blog focuses on the personal side of our cricketing adventures and this week it is very personal.
I've had it in my mind since the start of the season that it would be my last as a player. There are lots of reasons for this and for cathartic purposes as much as any, I detail them below.
1. The Injuries and the Pain. My achilles tendons tighten up like fraying bow strings the days following a game and I literally can't walk properly down the stairs first thing in the morning. After 25 years of slamming my right foot down on the popping crease, my knee joint feels as if it is made of shredded slate. I'm not going to start on the infuriating gluteus maximus injury that STILL hasn't healed and leaves me unable to run properly (see 16th August post. No need to feel guilty Dev).
2. My Type of Player. Batsmen and slow bowlers have a greater longevity than medium (OK, slow medium) pacers like myself. If you bowl medium pace and you want to continue playing a decent standard, you have to be still fit and still quick like Chris Asbury, a class above like Chris Rudge, or naturally talented and obsessed by the game like Stewart Gill. I am none of these things.
3. Youth. We have been blessed this year with 13/14/15 year olds who have bowled in our team and bowled superbly. Tim Howard, Jack Cooper, Michael Hingley, Zak O'Neill, Alex Haynes, James Thomas, George Nock and a few others I probably haven't mentioned are excellent prospects for the future. All of these young players can do the job that I do in the bowling department and it makes no sense at all for me to be hanging around blocking their path.
4. Lack of Options. I've looked at ways of extending my playing days in a different role. I've always fancied keeping wicket but I fear the aforementioned knee will not bear all the crouching. I could shorten the run up and bowl dastardly leg cutters but it's a bit late in the day to be changing my bowling style. I've thought about continuing just as a batsman but erm... I'm not good enough.
5. Time and My Son. My son is playing cricket for the Under 13s and playing well. I've enjoyed watching him, umpiring his matches, doing the scoring etc all season and having played for 25 years myself, it's about time cricket in our house started to focus on him. This year, with both myself and him playing has meant an awful lot of summer weekend time away from home.
6. Finishing on a High. There is a lot to be said for ending one's playing days as a title winner.
7. The Time is Right. This is an indefineable one. It just feels like the right time to go. I don't know why, it just does. Maybe it's a combination of all the things listed above but I have that feeling you get after reading the final page of an enjoyable book. Sad that it's over, but invigorated by the experience.
So there we are. Next week's final league match will probably be my last ever match. That will be an odd feeling I'm sure.
I read today about how some believe that participating in sport is more about the journey than the destination. I think that's a good way of describing it. I've had a fantastic and immensely enjoyable 25 year journey and the final station stop is slowly creeping into view, just a week away.
I need to leave it there as the national and international press have collected outside my house and the neighbours aren't happy. Don't believe it when they publish the 'Exclusive'. You blog fans read it here first.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Dev the Saboteur
This short post completes the Dev Trilogy.
Those of you that read the comments appended to my 30th August post, will notice that Dev offered to buy me a number of pints based on the number of wickets I took in Saturday's match.
Just to protect his investment, Dev decided to pour a large jug of water on the line of my run up just before the match started.
At the time I normally come on to bowl, Dev was practically begging our Skipper not to bring me on. He succeeded. Dev himself came on we bowled them out with no contribution from myself. I did take a catch and asked Dev if that counted towards our (very one sided!) bargain. No deal.
I returned to the clubhouse anticipating a dry evening.
Whether the disconsolate expression on my face inspired sympathy, I do not know, but waiting for me by the bar was a grinning Dev, holding two pints of cold lager.
Good effort mate.
Those of you that read the comments appended to my 30th August post, will notice that Dev offered to buy me a number of pints based on the number of wickets I took in Saturday's match.
Just to protect his investment, Dev decided to pour a large jug of water on the line of my run up just before the match started.
At the time I normally come on to bowl, Dev was practically begging our Skipper not to bring me on. He succeeded. Dev himself came on we bowled them out with no contribution from myself. I did take a catch and asked Dev if that counted towards our (very one sided!) bargain. No deal.
I returned to the clubhouse anticipating a dry evening.
Whether the disconsolate expression on my face inspired sympathy, I do not know, but waiting for me by the bar was a grinning Dev, holding two pints of cold lager.
Good effort mate.
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