Michael Parkinson: Maidenhead and Bray Cricket Club bicentenary (10 Aug 1998)

10 August 1998

Maidenhead and Bray Cricket Club

Michael Parkinson

THE sun shone, there were girls in their summer dresses and the beer flowed as if we were taking it from the Thames (after a while it wouldn't have mattered if we had). It was the perfect start to the bicentennial celebrations at Maidenhead and Bray Cricket Club. A large crowd turned up. Normally our spectator Cyril sits in splendid isolation.

That is not entirely true. He is accompanied by his charming companion and together they have seen every ball bowled, home and away, for the past decade or so. For this alone they deserve a medal. But their greatest achievement is to have survived everything the English summer threw at them.

Armed only with blankets, umbrellas, balaclavas, foot muffs and a thermos they have endured conditions that would have defeated a stout-hearted penguin. They didn't turn up for the showbiz game on the Sunday. Cyril doesn't like 'comic cricket'. Fortunately a lot of other people do and we had the sort of crowd you don't see at county grounds.

This was no doubt due to the attraction of celebrities like Rory Bremner, Chris Tarrant, Rolf Harris, Gary Lineker and Carol Vorderman. There is a lesson here for the counties. More people might watch Middlesex if Vera Duckworth opened with Justin Langer or Mike Atherton and David Frost changed jobs for a season.

Think of the people who would pay to see Anna Ford crouched in the leg trap. Consider the fear it would instil in batsmen particularly if she was allowed to take a drink onto the field. Imagine how a dull passage of play would be enlivened by the presence of Rolf Harris playing his didgeridoo at deep midwicket. I think I will pass on these observations to that nice Lord MacLaurin.

Janet Bairstow, David's widow, brought the kids. Jonathan, aged eight, was the star. He took a marvellous catch in the deep, bowled good line and length and had to be removed from the crease when batting by a snatch squad assembled by his captain who is also your correspondent.

Before I had written out my batting order he had approached me and said he would like to bat at four. I told him he was batting at eight. "Please can I bat at four?" he said. I told him he couldn't. "But I always bat at four," he said. I said I wasn't impressed by this information. He was determined to press his case. "But if I go in at number eight they'll think I can't bat," he said. I was about to ask him who he thought he was then I looked at him: ginger nut, blue eyes, freckles and couldn't help but smile. Chip off the old block. Little Bluey.

That was Sunday. On Tuesday MCC were the visitors. Mark Nicholas their captain, Barry Richards and Mike Proctor in their ranks. Chris Cowdrey captained the President's XI and the game was given first-class status by the presence of our two spectators who settled their chairs in their usual position at deep long on (when the bowling is from the river end).

They were invited for tea which nearly didn't happen because of a misunderstanding between the Hind's Head, who did a splendid lunch, and Derry the Dealer who masterminded the bicentennial celebrations. Whatever the ins and outs of the cock-up the consequence was that 30 minutes before tea there wasn't any.

Whereupon Del Boy nipped in his van down to the local supermarket and persuaded the manager to sell him next morning's sandwiches. If they put Derry in charge of the Millennium Dome chances are it would be finished a week tomorrow. In the end it is men like Derry and Jamie Sears and all the other Bray stalwarts who keep local cricket going. We have reached the age of 200 (actually it's about 50 years more but who is counting) because every generation has produced enough enthusiasts to guarantee handing it on to the next generation.

Their reasons were not difficult to understand last week. With the sun shining and the ground resplendent, Bray is one of God's special acres. But it wasn't too long ago they wanted to put houses on it and might have done without the opposition of those who sought to protect not only a green space but a strand of our heritage, a deep rooted part of our culture.

It is the same all over the land. I started playing the game at Cudworth Cricket Club and you could see Grimethorpe Colliery and muck stacks in the distance. I've ended up at Bray alongside the Thames with an ancient church at deep third man (when bowling from the road end). Different as could be imagined, but what they have in common is they survive not because of any Government policy (if they had waited for that they would have been long gone), or the help of an enlightened council, but because of bloody minded citizens with an instinct for preserving something good, beautiful and full of character.

Never mind the romance of it. In practical terms local clubs nowadays have an important part to play in teaching the game to children who are missing out in an education system which gives scant regard to the game of cricket. At Maidenhead and Bray we offer professional coaching for the children at the club and the money we raised in bicentennial week provided some of the funding which is a way of celebrating the past and, hopefully, ensuring the future. In any event it gave a neat symmetry to the occasion. The dream is that in another 200 years' time a team from Maidenhead and Bray will welcome MCC. Will MCC have a mixed team by then? Is 200 years too soon?

Presenting the club with a commemorative MCC shield, Mr Nicholas recalled my antipathy towards MCC. He thought it might be a wheeze to persuade me to drape myself in an MCC flag and pose for a photograph. As a fellow columnist and therefore understanding how desperate we can get in our search for something to write about, I did so. What Mr Nicholas makes of it is a matter between him and his imagination. I think it will make an ideal Christmas card.

As president of Maidenhead and Bray Cricket Club I was grateful to MCC for recognising and celebrating our special day. Which is not the same as saying I want to be adopted by Colin Ingleby-Mackenzie. I haven't asked him but I imagine the feeling is mutual. However, I will be sending him a Christmas card.

There was one moment that encapsulated the entire celebration and put the job of being president of a local cricket club in true perspective. I was looking across the field to the church, drinking in the beauty of a very English day, when I was approached by Barry Richards. "Excuse me Mr President," he said, "But I have to inform you there is no toilet paper in the gents' loo." Then I knew my place.

Another anecdote from a friend of Alan Revill's to add to a growing list. While playing for Berkshire on tour Alan took part in a jolly at the team hotel to celebrate the award of a county cap to Brian Cheeseman, who had just made a maiden century against Devon.

Much wine was taken and near midnight Alan's reputation as a marvellous catcher close to the wicket was put to the test by Cheeseman, who bet him he couldn't catch a cork exploded from a bottle of champagne.

They cleared the hotel lounge and Revill took his position, crouched at short leg. Cheeseman shook the champagne and released the cork which hit his team-mate straight between the eyes before he could move. Without flinching Alan picked up the cork, threw it back and said: "Sorry bowler."

Source :: Electronic Telegraph (https://www.telegraph.co.uk)