Viva Vaasy
The county championship's off to a good start, and there are even snazzy new hand dryers in the toilets at The Oval

Rory Hamilton-Brown top-scored in Surrey's first innings, with 74 • PA Photos
Fed up of writing my dissertation on Islamic philosophy and theology, I decided to go to the third day of Surrey against Northamptonshire at The Oval. Coupled with the glorious sunshine and potential to see a personal hero, Chaminda Vaas, bowl, there were few reasons not to go.
Surrey are my local team and even after their disappointing performances in the last couple of years, I still stick by them (until I head back up to university and pretend that I'm a Nottinghamshire fan - then I revel in their success).
Maybe this is a blatant example of bias or misguided hope, but I believe that Surrey could gain promotion this season. Rory Hamilton-Brown is really developing as a leader and as a batsman, while Steven Davies and Zander de Bruyn give the top order solidity, and Mark Ramprakash's return will equate to thousands of runs being scored (quite literally). The bowling unit, too, looks stronger: Yasir Arafat's arrival, along with the now-established Jade Dernbach and seasoned pro Gareth Batty, will hopefully provide the fillip needed to push Surrey on to better things.
On a day that was attritional rather than awe-inspiring, James Middlebrook's century ensured that Surrey were frustrated. Northants were better placed to secure a draw, and the Oval crowd could indulge in a spot of schadenfreude when Stuart Meaker uprooted Middlebrook's stumps soon after getting his ton. Although the pleasure would have been much greater if Meaker had done it in the 90s, the crowd were willing to compromise.
Vaas' first ball. I seem to have a strange penchant for cricketers who are try-hards rather than those who are naturally brilliant. For example, I enjoy watching Graeme Smith grind out a score more than Virender Sehwag lacerate a field and a bowler's pride. Call me bizarre, strange and odd - it is true, I am. Accordingly, I have a soft spot in the cricketing part of my heart for Vaas: his gentle throw-downs have bought him much success and I have admired him for his ability and cunning for many years. Finally, I thought, after waiting so long to see him in the flesh (geography and finance had hindered me until now) I will get to see him bowl, and, naturally, I was thrilled.
Alas, I did not sport any Surrey paraphernalia, but could have benefited greatly from some sun cream.
Gary Wilson v Michael Brown. With some unconvincing running and calls, both openers appeared desperate to run the other out. It was fascinating to watch this duel develop, but it sadly ended, and both were eventually bowled.
David Lucas fell in his first over, scuffing his leg and looking a bit worse for wear. For a moment it seemed as if he would not continue, but he battled on, not only managing to finish the over but sending down a few more, too. Relieved, the crowd soon returned to their Sunday papers with their scorecards unblemished. Phew!
A beautiful straight drive by Michael Brown pierced my eardrums and went quickly for four.
For the opening weekend of a County Championship game, there was a respectable crowd, gathered together in clusters wherever the sun was shining. A few incoherent things were shouted (mainly about Brown and Wilson's running), and some gasps were heard (again, mainly regarding Brown and Wilson's running), all adding to the atmosphere, which was, on the whole, pleasant with a decent buzz.
The fanciest clothes I saw were some Thomas Pink shirts. No banana suits or runaway nuns to be seen.
7.5. A nice warm-up for the county season. Some decent cricket was played, solid lines and lengths were bowled, and good defensive shots were played. The half mark is for the Dyson hand-dryers in the toilets. Not only are they quick - allowing you to miss less of the action - and a novelty, but you can also pretend you are a magician when you are using them. Call me bizarre, strange and odd…
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James Adams-Pace, 21, has recently come to the conclusion that not only has he not mastered any of the three cricketing disciplines, he is also not even mediocre at them: in fact, he is terrible. Indeed, as a bowler whose cricketing highlight is the solitary four he (mis)hit, he knows things are bad. Consequently he has courageously decided to dedicate his life to watching cricket instead and telling others how not to play. Nearing the end of his degree in Theology, James' life ambitions are to travel across America and to learn how to bowl a delivery that is not a full-toss.