The Wisdom game!

With the famous ashes starting today. and with the "Barmy Army" in place, I thought a few words about what I always appreciated in Cricket wouldn't come amiss!







So here they are!

When I was an active player (which I was, for many years, at many levels, in many countries) the Barmy Army didn't exist.
The charm of Cricket was made up of things which won't be present, or hearable in Australia .
Already we tended to play at weekends, or on Bank Holidays, apart from the Army, where we got ourselves the time off, free of liabilities, like upset bosses!
These matches, as in most Village cricket, even in the London area, were played mainly on Village greens, or at private clubs, complete with the pavillion and the bar!
The nicest sounds, after the chinking of ice cubes into the gin and tonic glasses, I recall, was the solid "plunk" of what has been described as leather hitting willow. The "chink" of a bail (or both) coming off the stumps was also audible, and agreeable. The more solid "clack" of a stump being uprooted was hearable, as was the rather annoying shout of "owzat" (a sort of appeal to the umpire that I had my leg in front of the wicket - which was NEVER true). This "owzat" was annoying, because it was never right, and only served to wake up the slightly somnolent spectators.
The "squeak" of the never-oiled sightscreen wheels, as it was pushed, was also a nerve grater, but it was a source of power, of command, and as a batsman, I always used this power, commanding opponents players to "move the sightscreen, please" - and they never refused. I recall one occasion, they kept changing the bowlers so often, that I think they lost most of their energy in pushing the sightscreen! In the end, they understood!
Of course, as a bowler of cunning spin, appeals of "owzats" were regular, always justified, and never annoying!
The gentle ripple of applause, when a beautiful cover drive, of technical perfection, simply whizzed to the boundary, was music in the ears.
Rather frowned upon, on the other hand, was the lunging sweep, or pull to the leg side, for six! This was considered "slogging" and not at all correct. It tended to pull "aaaahhhhs" and "ooooohhhhsss" from the younger spectators, and when silence reigned again - well, one could even hear the "chink" of the copper coins being put into the collection box being passed around amongst the spectators!
What a pleasure! Lunchtime, and those salads, complete with new potatoes, boiled or steamed, covered in butter, and generally smothered with salad cream!
Even now, I sometimes take time out to prepare this feast at home, although I no longer have access (central Europe is not cricket barmy) to live cricket, or even cricket on the TV.
All of these things were helped along by further gin and tonics, or for the uninitiated, by freshly drawn pints of not very frothy, warm, real English Ale -a disaster!
Very little of all this will be feasible, hearable, or sometimes payable, within the Ashes Compounds and Stadiums, but I suppose it's progress - Barmy Army with pints in plastic beakers!
As I offered my mate Chippie the other day - If the English want some Ashes, wait a couple of weeks, and they can have mine! They are the only one I think they are likely to get!
It's a one-off, unique offer of course - it's not every day I've got my ashes to give away!
(iwmpop) Mr le Marquis.