So, here we are. The first championship game of the year is hurtling towards us like...a giant hurtling thing. I’ve been quite bursting with anticipation (not a pretty sight at the best of times) over the last few weeks for the start of the county championship, even although it feels pretty odd that Mr R won’t be fit to take to the field for some time yet. As a Surrey fan I am interested to see how the team do in his absence. As a Ramps fan it’s just a little weird...a bit like Destiny’s Child without Beyoncé.
That was a strange analogy! Anyhow, you know what I mean.
Surrey have already gone through their pre-season warm ups, and I think we have to accept that this is exactly what they are and basically not panic before the main event. It was lovely to see Michael Brown return, and equally magnificent to hear that Chris Jordan is back and bowling (not to mention taking wickets) for the team. I do think that Surrey need the maestro back as soon as possible, however, looking at the rather Ramprakash-sized gap in the middle order scores. People like Ramps – and let’s be honest, Dominic Cork, Robert Croft and Marcus Trescothick – are more than just run scorers or wicket takers. They are lucky charms and bring not only years of experience with them but have that bit of magic about them: the aura that belongs to the battle scarred veterans who cheat time, and hold the seasons at bay.
Surrey will be missing their chief lion for the first part of the season, but it needn’t all be doom and gloom. The show must go on, and fingers crossed by the time everyone is fit and firing Surrey will be winning games once again.
Best of luck, lads!
Showing posts with label Robert Croft. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Croft. Show all posts
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Thursday, 3 June 2010
And now for something completely different...
I’m in the mood for a bit of nostalgia. Dad going in for his hip replacement operation today has made me reflect upon the rapid passage of time. I swear I was at high school last year. It seems like it to me, and yet I am mortified to discover that it’s approaching nineteen years since I left! I want my life back!!!
If you look at opening ceremonies for things like cricket, football and I guess the ultimate show in the world, the Olympic games, you begin to realise just how slick and glitzy and gosh darned expensive everything is. And although it looks great you find yourself looking back on it and thinking, what was the point of all that? Why not just start the games/tournament/competition and save yourself a shed load of cash? I know the last cricket world cup thingy in England was a bit of a damp squib – literally – as Alesha Dixon stood in the wings waiting to perform on a waterlogged stage, but do we really need vocalists heralding the beginning of a contest that basically has, to coin a phrase, bog all to do with singing? Unless of course we have plans for Graham Swann and Mark Butcher to enter Eurovision next year...
This is why I find myself remembering with great fondness my participation in the opening ceremony of the 1986 Commonwealth games. It looked naff then, and time has not really helped it in this respect. No pyrotechnics. No fancy gizmos. Just 5000 kids in multi coloured tracksuits, David Coleman, 3 guys in a Nessie outfit and a whole lot of doves making a giant mess of the track. My sister was in the dancing troupe and had the ignominy of wearing a yellow and turquoise baby grow.
But for all that, naff isn’t necessarily bad. For today’s young generation of twentysomethings it probably looks diabolical, but at the end of the day you can’t put a price on the happy memories of childhood. The fact that I can actually tell you which little blue blob I was on the screen indicates what a great time it was. I still have my Commonwealth Games tracksuit and trainers stored away in a bag in the attic, and although the experience didn’t provide me with any useful life skills I can honestly say that I march, wave my arms and star jump with the best of them.
You see, I belong to the generation that grew up in the seventies and eighties. ‘Jamie and the Magic Torch', ‘Chorlton and the Wheelies’, ‘The Clangers’ and 'Bod' were the mainstays of our televisual viewing. When I got older I borrowed my sister’s cerise ‘Fame' style leggings, I had Duran Duran posters on my bedroom wall and we got our thrills from ‘Jossy’s Giants’ and watching Philip Schofield and Gordon the Gopher larking around in the broom cupboard. I cheered Stefan Edberg on each year at Wimbledon whilst wondering why footballer’s hair had got bigger but their shorts had become, er... shorter!
This is partly why I enjoy seeing the elder statesmen of cricket hanging around the game: your fortysomethings like Udal, Ramps and Croft, your thirtysomethings like Jon Batty. It reassures me that for as long as they are around, I’m not alone after all!
If you look at opening ceremonies for things like cricket, football and I guess the ultimate show in the world, the Olympic games, you begin to realise just how slick and glitzy and gosh darned expensive everything is. And although it looks great you find yourself looking back on it and thinking, what was the point of all that? Why not just start the games/tournament/competition and save yourself a shed load of cash? I know the last cricket world cup thingy in England was a bit of a damp squib – literally – as Alesha Dixon stood in the wings waiting to perform on a waterlogged stage, but do we really need vocalists heralding the beginning of a contest that basically has, to coin a phrase, bog all to do with singing? Unless of course we have plans for Graham Swann and Mark Butcher to enter Eurovision next year...
This is why I find myself remembering with great fondness my participation in the opening ceremony of the 1986 Commonwealth games. It looked naff then, and time has not really helped it in this respect. No pyrotechnics. No fancy gizmos. Just 5000 kids in multi coloured tracksuits, David Coleman, 3 guys in a Nessie outfit and a whole lot of doves making a giant mess of the track. My sister was in the dancing troupe and had the ignominy of wearing a yellow and turquoise baby grow.
But for all that, naff isn’t necessarily bad. For today’s young generation of twentysomethings it probably looks diabolical, but at the end of the day you can’t put a price on the happy memories of childhood. The fact that I can actually tell you which little blue blob I was on the screen indicates what a great time it was. I still have my Commonwealth Games tracksuit and trainers stored away in a bag in the attic, and although the experience didn’t provide me with any useful life skills I can honestly say that I march, wave my arms and star jump with the best of them.
You see, I belong to the generation that grew up in the seventies and eighties. ‘Jamie and the Magic Torch', ‘Chorlton and the Wheelies’, ‘The Clangers’ and 'Bod' were the mainstays of our televisual viewing. When I got older I borrowed my sister’s cerise ‘Fame' style leggings, I had Duran Duran posters on my bedroom wall and we got our thrills from ‘Jossy’s Giants’ and watching Philip Schofield and Gordon the Gopher larking around in the broom cupboard. I cheered Stefan Edberg on each year at Wimbledon whilst wondering why footballer’s hair had got bigger but their shorts had become, er... shorter!
This is partly why I enjoy seeing the elder statesmen of cricket hanging around the game: your fortysomethings like Udal, Ramps and Croft, your thirtysomethings like Jon Batty. It reassures me that for as long as they are around, I’m not alone after all!
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