It’s a summer Saturday in the maisonette. There’s a cricket club nearby. I want to go and watch and maybe get involved in a small way.
I get ready and go to the front door. I say goodbye to my parents and I walk a short distance until I see the cricket club. I clamber over a wall and walk across the green field to see a cricket ground that is tree lined with a stream running around it and a delightful pavilion.
There’s a scoreboard where the score is changed by turning a pulley to indicate what it is. I ask one of the players whether I can help out. He agrees and this is what I do for the rest of the summer. Operating the scoreboard, for 50 pence a time. 50 pence! A small fortune to an eight year old boy.
The following summer, I learnt how to score a cricket match by using a pen and book. Initially and to the chagrin of the team captain, I used a felt tip pen and made a mess of it. I like to think I’ve become much more neater over the years.
So great memories of how it all started back in that summer of 1980. This coming weekend, I’m back in the scorebox and watching, in my opinion, the best sport in the world, cricket. And with the weather set fair once again, I’m determined to carry on enjoying this amazing season. 38 years on, and some worry lines later, I’m still involved. And still determined to be involved for a long time to come.