Cricket after work

It used to be the case that, if you wanted to go to a cricket match during the week, you had to either book leave or throw a sickie because a day's play was exactly that, starting at around 11 and ending at some point in the evening, with (of course) breaks for lunch and tea.

Back in 2003, though, some bright spark at the ECB had an idea - what about reducing the length of the game? How about, say, twenty overs a side? A match could be over and done with in around three hours. What with most major grounds having already installed floodlights, matches could be played in the evening which would allow people to go to a game after work. The TV people, they reckoned, would like the idea too.

Thus was the phenomenon that is Twenty20 created. Obviously, the rest of the cricketing world ran with the idea at a much faster pace than the English, the result being that the Indian Premier League has revolutionised the professional game in a similar way to World Series Cricket a generation ago, while no international tour is complete without some Twenty20 games.

In England, it has proved to be a very popular format; the record attendance at Lord's for a domestic fixture (not including one-day finals) is for a Twenty20 game (the London derby between Middlesex and Surrey, of course). Now I've been to Lord's for first-class county games where not much happens for several hours and there are only a few hundred spectators (in such circumstances, they don't bother opening some of the stands); it's a world away from the exciting atmosphere of a sell-out crowd at a T20 game at the same venue.

Perhaps inevitably, T20 has been accompanied by efforts to jazz the game up - although efforts to do this were already under way, coloured kits having been adopted for the fifty-over format a decade previously. Talk of doing away with the county format for T20 came to nothing, although most of the county teams went for new names, hence the Leicestershire Foxes and the Kent Spitfires (Warwickshire have gone a step further and rechristened themselves the Birmingham Bears). Some counties didn't bother (Somerset are still just Somerset) while Middlesex experimented with being the Crusaders and then the Panthers before going back to being Middlesex (more daringly, they became the first high-level men's professional team in any British sport to play in pink shirts).

They actually won the T20 Cup back in 2008 (the club's only trophy since the glory days of Mike Gatting), although the normal state of affairs has been a failure to get out of the group stage. For 2015, it has been a case of normal service with the club languishing at the bottom of the South Division of what is now the NatWest T20 Blast.

Still, just because your team is not doing too well at the moment doesn't mean you withdraw your support. Dad and I try to do an annual pilgrimage to Lord's, and in recent years our focus has been on Middlesex's T20 games (it's the after work element that I like; provided I can leave the office on time, grabbing a pastie on the way, I can get to my seat before play begins). Last Thursday they were hosting the Sussex Sharks at the Home of Cricket, and we were there among a crowd of just over 18,000.

St John's Wood Tube station was heaving, and the reason wasn't because a load of Beatles fans wanted to go to the zebra crossing on Abbey Road. There were guys up from the City in their suits (and, in a couple of cases, the MCC 'city' ties which are more discreet than the club's traditional egg-and-bacon neckwear), families in replica one-day cricket shirts, old blokes in Panama hats and groups of friends who had to meet up at the station because only one of them (usually the last one to arrive) had the tickets. Not a big game on paper, but a 6:15 start on a weekday evening guaranteed a big crowd. It was a warm day, too, although there was some cloud-cover at the start which quickly cleared for a lovely summer evening.

Sussex - sorry, the Sharks - needed to win the game to go to the top of the division. Visiting teams always seem to up their game when they come to Lord's, a phenomenon observable in the county game as well as internationally; having such a prestigious venue as your home ground can be a curse as well as a blessing! The visitors won the toss and elected to bowl first. Middlesex's batsmen did not exactly set the world on fire, averaging six an over during the power-play (the first few overs during which only two fielders are allowed in the outfield) although the odd boundary did result in some fire in front of the Mound Stand - there were some gas-bottles lined up between boundary and stand which shot out jets of flame whenever a batsman hit a four or (more rarely) a six - not that we in the stand really needed that, as it was a hot day in any case and the heat from the fire-blast wasn't exactly welcome!

Other razzmatazz came in the form of some gymnasts in pink leotards doing jumps between overs, a football-style mascot waving at the crowd (yes, Middlesex has one of those), loud music (between overs) and on the big screens there was shown a series of dance moves based on umpires' hand-signals performed by people who resembled extras from Eighties work-out videos; could this be the next big dance craze? Probably not.

On the field, Middlesex somehow made it to three figures (highest scorer: England one-day captain Eoin Morgan) while the visitors' fielding was superb; this is an aspect of cricket that has really improved over the past twenty or so years. How do they manage to throw it to within a yard of the stumps while running near the boundary? Practice makes perfect, I guess.

During any cricket match at a big venue, there comes a point when the average (adult) spectator would like a drink. Beer is overwhelmingly the beverage of choice for the cricket-watcher (it is not for nothing that Marston's Pedigree has been marketed as the England team's official beer for several years), and although the rules on bringing booze into the ground are a bit more liberal for domestic games than they are for internationals (officially you're allowed to bring in two pints but they're not as hot on searching bags at the turnstiles) most fans head for the bar at some point. But when to go? At a Test match you don't get out of your seat until the end of the over but at T20 there's more of an 'anything goes' approach, especially in stands that aren't behind the bowler's arm. 

Down at the bar, the staff had hit on the novel idea of pouring pints in advance to speed up sales, and what with the match being broadcast on TV they'd put up a screen at the back of the bar so punters wouldn't miss anything exciting (and in the fast-paced world of T20, you could miss something exciting - a boundary, a wicket - very easily); I caught at least one Middlesex wicket - a well-taken outfield catch - in this way.

Middlesex's innings ended on 133 for 8, and after a quick (ie. barely enough time to queue for both the gent's and the bar) the Sussex reply started; from the off, it was obvious that they were the better team with 12 runs being scored off the first over. England international Luke Wright raced towards a fifty (he was eventually out just short, at 47) and we got chatting with our fellow-spectators; not just Sussex fans (they'd got the train up from Brighton for this) but groundstaff from the County Ground at Hove; one of them was a former professional while another didn't actually work for Sussex but ran the pub that the groundstaff like to drink in; they had a spare ticket so they invited him along!

As the beer flowed, the crowd became more raucous, although they'd been loud to begin with, albeit in an excited rather than a rowdy way; this, I thought to myself, was a snapshot of the modern-day English at leisure. Cricket, beer and sunshine; what more could we have asked for?

Sussex, of course, won the game at a canter, knocking off the winning runs with five overs to spare for the loss of just three wickets. Satisfied with our latest Lord's experience (if not the result, which in the context of such a great atmosphere didn't seem to matter so much), we made our way home, getting the bus across to Camden so we could hit the Northern Line and avoid the crowds at St John's Wood.

A key ritual of the London summer, going to a cricket match at Lord's, had been completed.

A day at the Test match

The last day of a Test match is always a tempting proposition if the weather is nice and there’s the prospect of an exciting day’s play. Earlier this week, the Test match at Lord’s between England and South Africa went to the fifth day and that was not a prospect that I – or my Dad or my brother Alex for that matter – could turn down.

Sorting my things out for a day at Lord’s, I pack a sunhat and an umbrella along with my lunch. It’s an all-day event and you never know what’s going to happen weather-wise at a cricket match!

Making my way to the ground, I pass a bookie’s on Camden High Street. Out of curiosity, I pop in and ask what the odds are on England winning the Test. The man behind the counter checks his computer and quotes me odds of 20/1. I decide to put a couple of quid on England.

One bus ride to St John’s Wood later, I have no problem getting a ticket – as no-one knows before the game whether it will last for five days, the fifth day tickets are hardly ever sold in advance. Everyone’s excited, and there are more than a few people here who really should be at work. But no-one’s telling on anyone here. More than a few men in suits can be seen wearing the distinctive MCC tie, while others are more casual in an array of brightly-coloured t-shirts. Unlike at a football match, English and South African fans mix freely and exchange much banter. Everyone’s happy to be here.

Contrary to expectations, the sky looks very grey – so grey, in fact, that the floodlights are on as the players come out. Once inside the ground, we have some tea or coffee and decide that the Edrich stand (opposite the Pavilion) is the place to be. We have a panoramic view of the ground, and on the outfield we can see where the stands had been placed for the Olympic archery events which were held here. The groundstaff have done a fantastic job to get the place ready for a Test match so soon after that.

As the groundstaff prepare the pitch, and we use our binoculars to spot famous ex-players who are now part of various commentary teams, everyone’s talking about what looks like being an exciting day’s play. But just how long are we actually going to be here? England are over 300 runs short of the target with eight wickets left – the match can only end in a result by them scoring all those runs or (more likely) losing all their wickets in the process. They could be all out before lunch, although most people are estimating that the end will come between lunch and tea. Either way, we’ll get to see something.

As play starts, spectators continue to flood in, and when the stewards open up a whole section of the seats that had previous been reserved (we know not who for), everyone moves across. Although most of the fans in our area are English, we’re now in front of a family of South Africans who become increasingly vocal with the fall of each English wicket. In front of me, a middle-aged man dressed in a white linen suit, dark shirt and an MCC tie takes a seat. Why, I wonder to myself, isn’t he sitting in the Pavilion with the other MCC members?

It is now declared to be beer o’clock, and Dad heads down to the bar to get the first round.

By the time lunch comes around (after two hours of play), the sun is breaking through the clouds and I have taken off my jacket and donned my sunglasses and sun-hat. Cricket must be a unique sport in having intervals between periods of play that are named after meals. Why is this? It must be something to do with the fact that the game lasts all day, and tradition dictates that the players are actually given something to eat during the intervals. Plus, the spectators need to eat at some point as well. We tuck into our sandwiches, and I head down to the bar to get three more pints of beer.

Someone wonders out loud why this famous old ground is called Lord’s (with the apostrophe). Alex is on hand to explain that it’s named after Thomas Lord, an eighteenth-century cricketer who helped the Marylebone Cricket Club to acquire a suitable playing venue when they were formed in 1787, although not at the current site. The ground continues to be owned by the MCC (to all intents and purposes still very much a private club) to this day – something of an anachronism in the modern age.

By now, the sun is shining and the man in front has shed not only his jacket and tie but also his shirt, as well as rolling his trouser-legs up to his knees. I wonder if he really is an MCC member.

England may be staring defeat in the face but they’re not dead yet. Our batsmen – by now we’re down to Matt Prior and Stuart Broad, capable enough with the bat – continue to chip away at the total. Up in the Edrich stand, we’re cheering each run that is scored; for the most part, the crowd is gloriously partisan.

As the afternoon wears on, a Mexican wave goes round the ground, several times. As has become customary at Lord’s over the past decade, the MCC members in the Pavilion – sticklers for tradition – do not take part, and are loudly booed by everyone else.

With less than ten minutes to go to tea, another wicket falls. The new man in is Graeme Swann – a favourite of England followers thanks to his deadly off-spin, his attacking style with the bat, the fact that he’s one of the funnier sports stars who has a Twitter account and his hilarious video diary of the 2010-11 Ashes series. It’s safe to say that England fans love Swanny, and we love him even more when he dispatches the second ball he faces to the boundary with an unconventional reverse sweep. By the time tea comes along, he’s already got 12 runs.

Most of the spectators opt for something a bit stronger than tea, and Alex heads down to get three more pints while the talk is of whether England can actually win this. The target has shrunk to 120, and the English fans, who had previously been talking of our team pulling off a miraculous victory in order to wind up the South Africans, are now starting to talk seriously about it.

As play resumes, it’s clear that Prior and Swann don’t think it’s a hopeless cause – between them, they hit 60 runs in the next half-hour. The crowd goes wild. ENG-LAND, ENG-LAND is the chant. As the target continues to lower, the smiles broaden and we start to hope that, despite it all, we can win this. After all, cricket’s a funny old game and stranger things have happened. I wonder how long that bookie’s is going to be open for this evening.

But the run-rush can’t last, can it? Swann perishes on a suicidal run-out, and minutes later Prior is given out caught – only for the big screen to show that he was out to a no-ball. Prior, who’s walking back to the Pavilion, is reprived! England are 60-odd runs short, but we’re still in the game! The crowd are loving this.

But then, Prior’s out – for real, this time. The next man in is also the last man, Steve Finn. In the papers this morning, he was quoted as saying that he believed England could win this. But he’s out first ball.

And that’s it. The South Africans behind us pop open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot that they’ve smuggled into the ground for this moment. We all stand and applaud before making our way to the exit.

Were we sad that England lost? A bit, but it has to be said South Africa did deserve to win as they were the better team. Did we enjoy ourselves anyway? Of course! As Allison pointed out afterwards, the men of the Young family ALWAYS have fun at Lord’s!