June was a very disappointing month weather-wise for Lancashire CCC supporters.
First, a visit to Cheltenham School for the fixture against Gloucestershire.
On arrival at Cheltenham Spa station I took a taxi to my B & B and we arrived outside almost before I had chance to fasten the seat belt.
I looked around, no meter in the cab. “That will be ten pounds exactly Sir!”
Wow. The guy must have had a mind like a tachograph. Or perhaps he was just a robbing bastard.
It soon became apparent that I had chosen my hotel in haste and unwisely, as I ended up in a subterranean ex-storage room that Josef Fritzl would have rejected on behalf of his hostages.
Fortunately I bumped into Red Nigel and Helen at the ground in the afternoon of day one which added a little social interaction to the mix. The pair were there for the day only, but Nigel recommended a local curry house for me to try later that evening.
I did just that, and was accosted on my way out at 10pm by two Lancashire Members, one drunk and the other one drunker.
The latter’s conversational ability was somewhat impaired by hiccups.
“Are you going to…hic…Sedbergh, mate?”
“ Yes, I travel quite a bit with cricket, and it’s another nice new ground for me to experience”
“Well, hic… you must be… hic… Paul Allott’s bloody brother in law… hic.”
Thankfully I left before I got the full diatribe as to why this inebriated pair would not be going to Sedbergh later this month.
I will expand further on the controversy around this fixture later.
On day two it became apparent that the Cheltenham School covers had failed during the night and the grounds man had allowed water to leak under the covers and onto the wicket, right on a length.
Despite it being obvious that there would be no cricket that day, the large crowd were kept hanging on via numerous ‘ inspections’ until 2.30 pm, which is disgraceful in my view – I know beer and burgers have to be sold, but…!
No cricket was possible on day three either, but at least the grounds man had a good explanation for the cock-up:
“I didn’t expect that to happen!”
Home in disgust early on day three, then, before the game petered out to a tame draw on day four.
Next, a visit to Worcester, which has lately been one of my favourite haunts.
The weather forecast was appalling and unfortunately proved entirely accurate with only two sessions of cricket possible in four days. At least the visit was very social, and thank you Mick for arranging free tickets for Dave, Helen and myself even though these were never actually scanned. The cricket ground was actually under water by the end of the week.
Then, a first visit to Derbyshire with Higgy, despite having read Skip’s earlier Addis newsletter article about the shortcomings of the Pattonair Ground.
Not even Skip’s dire warnings could have prepared me for the ‘Derbyshire experience’.
The ground is situated on a large roundabout way outside town on the perimeter of an industrial estate.
Higgy, despite being a Derbyshire trialist when he was younger, had “no memory of this place”, like Gandalf in Moria. After a marathon trek from Derby station over a river, various bridges, the Post Office Sorting Dept. and a dual carriageway with no means of crossing, we finally approached the admission gate.
I asked the old guy selling tickets for a ‘pensioner’ concession.
“One price for all here mate. Sixteen quid!”
I decided to have a bit of fun.
“How much? How much? First I have my free TV licence stolen by this Tory government then you charge me sixteen quid to come into this place… you’re the only County ground I’ve been to with no pensioner concessions…!”
His response was suitably blunt. “Are you bloody coming in – or what?” Which I probably deserved!
On entering the ground at 10.45am to full sunshine and with a benign weather forecast for the whole day, it was surprising to see no-one warming up on the outfield, which was bereft of all human activity.
It soon became apparent that the bowlers run ups had got ‘wet’ during the night.
“Inspection at 12.30” Grrrr. That was enough for me.
Higgy and I adjourned to the nearest pub, returning when play finally started at 2.30pm.
Facilities at the ground were basic to say the least.
Two of my Red Rose pals Dave and John (of the fancy blazers and hats) decided to visit the café behind the stand for drinks during the afternoon.
“I’m sorry I can’t serve you.” said the lady behind the counter. ”We’re closed now.”
Dave: “But you can’t be closed. It’s the bloody tea interval!!”
I went in search of toilets and finally found a primordial bog situated underneath a redundant score box at midwicket. No further comment on this, except I can see why the locals wear wellies!
The game truly kicked into life on day two when Anderson and Onions were too hot for the Derbyshire batsmen to handle, with Onions taking his 700th first class wicket, Derbyshire Captain Madsen. Derbyshire 17-4 in no time in their second innings.
On day three the game was over in about an hour as Derbyshire subsided, which was especially disappointing as we had paid the extortionate entry fee once again, and this time after arriving half an hour late!
However it would be impossible to doubt the optimism of the Derbyshire fans. We overheard one talking to his pal as the last Derbyshire wicket fell after they had just about managed to force Lancashire to bat again:
“I’m not staying to watch the buggers score two!”
“Well I am. They might be all out for one!”
Clearly the second chap had watched Lancashire bat quite a lot last season.
So a Lancashire win, but I won’t be visiting the Pattonair Ground again, and if any members of the vociferous Lancashire Action Group were present, perhaps this visit to Derbyshire will enable them to learn to love Old Trafford a little more.
In the members pavilion afterwards we refused the offer of a chicken dinner for £10-95 and instead befriended a Lancashire supporter called Stuart from Welshpool who was on his own. We all ended up in a very rough pub in the centre of Derby watching the World Cup on TV.
Thanks as usual to Higgy for the accommodation and the liver workout!
And so to Sedbergh School. Lancashire v Durham. 30th June – 3rd July.
Never in my memory has…
Sedbergh School has sat quietly in the Yorkshire Dales since its foundation in 1525 and attracts boarders from amongst the children of the wealthy and privileged. The key word here is ‘Yorkshire’ for those who may not yet have latched on to the controversy aspect.
The fixture has attracted heaps of criticism from the excitable Lancashire Action Group and also some of the more conservative Lancashire Members, especially the older ones, who will be unable to use their GMPTE free bus and rail passes to travel to this fixture!
Since the game was announced, the Action Group twitter feed has been alive with sarcasm and criticism, much of which has been aimed at Paul Allott, the Lancashire Director of Cricket.
Every facet of the fixture has come under scrutiny, including the distance from Old Trafford, the lack of accommodation in the Sedbergh area, and the transport difficulties (there is no mainline station nearby and no bus service to speak of).
The Action Group have even tried comparing unfavourable rainfall statistics for Sedbergh vs. Manchester – which frankly is a piece of nonsense.
The main problem for most, though, concerns playing at ‘home’ at that Y word.
Lancashire CCC have tried to mitigate these issues by offering a free coach for members from Old Trafford, to be booked in advance, and a free bus shuttle service from Oxenholme station, near Kendal.
As it took me about 90 minutes to drive to Sedbergh up the M6, this represents no more of a difficulty than watching cricket at our other out grounds in Southport or Liverpool from where I live, so I was happy just to visit another different cricket ground.
This positive feeling was shared by pals Ken Whitworth, John, Stewart and Moira and of course the Blazer boys Dave and John were in attendance as always.
On the first morning, by arriving early, Ken and I managed to gain entry to the school grounds before the Stewards were in situ. We watched quietly from a wooden bench next to the school church as a large queue formed outside along the perimeter wall awaiting the official gate opening time.
Then, out of nowhere, we were accosted by a teacher from the school, who we recognised instantly from his tweed jacket with leather elbow patches.
“What are you two doing in here!!? Have you got tickets?”
“Yeah, mate. Do you want to see them?”
“NO! You are a security breach! Sit there and don’t move!”
Within seconds a red wheelie bin had been strategically placed across the doorway we had used to gain admission and the ground was once more watertight… ha ha, joke.
We quickly escaped to the stands before we could be put on detention, or receive 500 lines:
“I must not be a security breach at controversial Sedbergh School Cricket matches”
Day one was chilly and we were subjected to regular squalls of rain. Fair play to the umpires and ground staff though, who made every effort to keep play going. In fact, no overs would be lost during the entire match.
Shortly after play started we were joined by our friend ‘Stevie’ who had travelled up on the free coach from Old Trafford put on by the club.
This coach was late leaving Old Trafford due to 17 Members who had booked not turning up. Poor show lads.
When the coach finally arrived in Sedbergh, it had to turn around and go back to the Motorway as the required coach parking permit in town had not been obtained. Poor show Lancs!
In the Corporate Hospitality tent we saw Bumble, heavily disguised in a flat cap, toeing the party line about the fixture. ” Eeeeh, this is the best thing since sliced bread…”
On the first morning only, Sir Ian Botham was there too, hobbling around on a pair of crutches.
Ken: “That foot massager he advertises can’t be much good, can it?”
The much maligned Mr Allott, meanwhile, was prowling around the ground on his phone for much of the day and also taking the opportunity to engage with members of the crowd, so fair do’s there.
During the day at Edgbaston, England were playing India in a crucial World Cup fixture.
This may or may not explain the 17 no shows on the Old Trafford coach!
John: “India are having to play in orange today – they will be rioting in Bangalore!”
Midnight: “Just as well they aren’t playing in Glasgow, isn’t it!”
As the ball was handed to the umpire by an unhappy Durham bowler, Lancashire’s new announcer, John Gwynne of Sky Darts fame, inadvertently left his microphone switched on. We heard:
“Oh I don’t know. It must have gone out of shape or the stitching come loose or something”
Never mind the ball, he had the crowd in stitches!
During the day a Lancashire Action Group fanzine seller was ejected by the Stewards (I’m surprised they allowed him entry in the first place as he is banned from Old Trafford) and soon a tweet appeared implying that this elderly man had been rather physically turfed out.
A Steward told me later that this guy asked to be manhandled, so that he could make a video of the event on his mobile phone, but was instead simply escorted to the exit gate. He would later be allowed back in the following day on the proviso that no fanzine selling occurred.
Despite the weather, the crowd was a healthy 1500-2000, and I have to say that the ground is one of the most spectacular locations in the UK that I have watched cricket. Real picture postcard stuff.
If only the sun would shine…
On day two, similar weather, similar size crowd.
Cameron Bancroft dominated the Durham crease as wickets fell around him, you could say he was the flypaper that held the innings together.
Red Rose Dave and John were wearing their usual fancy blazers but Dave also sported a red bowler hat that reminded the writer of a certain notorious ‘Clockwork’ Stanley Kubrick film. I sincerely hope he was not trying to divert attention from Lancashire’s only true number one fan, the Morecambe Mad Hatter!
The cricket finished even Stevens and we searched Sedbergh for a suitable place to have an evening meal.
Sadly the town resembles Adelaide, South Australia on a Monday night with everything closed, so we finished up in a bus shelter outside the excellent Haddock Paddock eating fish and chips out of a tray.
The Red Lion later, where Red Rose pals Dave and John were dining more formally.
Scampi and chips this far from the sea, Dave? You will be sorry in the morning!
The local bars are staffed mainly by young academics from the school, which is by far the largest employer in the town.
John, who used to be the stadium announcer for Oldham Athletic, wasted no time in interrogating the lad who was pulling our beer:
“So, what are you studying, then?”
“I’ve finished my exams now. I’m a classically trained singer, and have a place at Brooks, Oxford later this year!”
“Brooks Oxford? Where’s that ? Can you do karaoke, then?”
Little wonder the lad decided against studying at Oldham Polytechnic.
Day three started with a better weather forecast but the first thing we noticed was the absence of Red Rose Dave from the ground, in bed with frozen scampi poisoning. Thankfully he turned up after lunch.
Soon a moment of horror. Jimmy Anderson twice aborted his run up and left the field with injury.
The news wires were obviously abuzz with enquiries and the injury turned out to be a “low-grade calf muscle tear”.
As I informed my Addis Army colleagues of Jimmy’s misfortune, they were full of sympathy.
“Surely he will be okay for the Ashes if merely his calf you would suspect.”
“Yeah, it’s not like he doesn’t have another one on the other leg.”
It would appear Anderson is in fact doubtful now for the first Ashes Test.
If anyone is expecting Jennings and / or Hameed to be opening the batting for England in the Ashes, I would recommend you don’t put money on it. Both were out for ducks in the first over of Lancashire’s second innings, symptomatic of their awful seasons thus far. 0-2!
Lancashire held a first innings lead of 56, but this was soon diluted as further wickets tumbled.
As Lancashire limped to 57-5, it was Captain Dane Vilas to the rescue, as usual.
At stumps a Lancashire lead on second innings of 260 with day four still to come.
The final day dawned with clear skies and bright sunshine and the ground was a picture.
The crowd was down on the first three days, which is normal, but the Lancashire Action Group helpfully tweeted photos of loads of empty seats, which were taken before most of the people had filed into the ground, in order to demonstrate to their readership what an abject failure the fixture had been. Never let the truth get in the way of your own agenda or a good story, eh, lads?
Lancashire Captain Vilas continued his knock before lunch reaching 85 to add to his first innings 50.
To everyone’s relief, Jimmy Anderson came out to bat at number eleven, but didn’t trouble the scorers, leaving Durham a final target of 304 to win from 79 overs.
Any thoughts of a Durham chase were tempered by early wickets and at 36-3 it was left once again to Cameron Bancroft to sand over the cracks and hold the innings together, which he managed very capably.
Lancashire’s depleted bowling attack was unable to break though sufficiently and the teams shook hands on the draw with four overs to go, with Bancroft refusing to bat on in order to achieve his personal milestone of a century, which I thought was quite classy.
So, what of Sedbergh as a venue?
Difficult to get to, for sure, but well worth the journey for me. I thoroughly enjoyed this match.
Each days play was accompanied by an elegiac report on Cricinfo by Paul Edwards which made great reading and I for one will be back next season if there is a repeat fixture. And we finally saw some cricket.
To the negative Members and the Lancashire Action Group who refused to attend I have this simple message – you got it badly wrong, lads, sorry. You have missed out.
Regards
Midnight