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Great flicks, the Harry Potter movies. The kids love them. So does the missus. There’s a rollercoaster of a plot running around in the background, larger than life characters that have become household names and some seriously amazing effects.
A good old fashioned tale of good versus evil that can suck you in but doesn’t get too cerebral. And the longest one is all over in under three hours.
But if you’re fair dinkum about your Hogwarts and all that, the good wife and daughter tell me you’ve got to read the books. Books require time. They require you to care for the main protagonists and understand where they belong in the grand scheme of things.
There are no visual or audio pyrotechnics other than those you construct in your mind’s eye but they’re yours and yours alone. The journey a book leads the reader on gives you the rewards only patience and a deeper understanding of the fleshed out plot can provide.
There’s nothing wrong with either medium. They’re both wonderful forms of entertainment and, if you’re so inclined, the joys of one can lead you to those of the other.
The boy is eight. His father has played and watched cricket for more than 30 years and, while he has always loved it, he won’t be deflated if the young bloke doesn’t follow the old man and take up the game down the track.
Doing well with the bat or ball is a thrill and there’s nothing like sharing a premiership with your mates but God knows you have as many bad days as good if you’re a club cricketer.
That translates to plenty of arvos watching other blokes bat when you could be at the beach or skiing or anything other than grinding your teeth and cursing yourself.
But the game can provide the kind of absorbing narratives that only the great sports can.
It’s a teacher and a leveller. It’s a talking point among mates. It can provide examples to live by in that sort of Rudyard Kipling “Treat triumph and disaster just the same” style, especially Test cricket.
Tests require time. They reward patience and a deeper understanding of the fleshed out game.
And while he sits with him in the hospital ER after the boy came a cropper on his mountain bike, Dad hopes his little fella learns to love the game, whether he pulls on the whites or not. They don’t usually play cricket on gravel tracks.
Or on bloody bikes, thank Christ.
The trouble is there’s a hell of a lot vying for his attention in 2014. Generally they are sedentary pursuits involving electronic devices to the point of obsession. What the hell is ‘Minecraft‘?
Spontaneous backyard or street games seem to have no intrinsic attraction to he and most of his mates. Unless it’s organised and scheduled.
And yet the karate and athletics and Hot Shots tennis and gymnastics and Milo In2Cricket and soccer and the rest are paid up, given a burl and discarded as interest wanes. Maybe he finds it all boring, with the queues and unimaginative coaching, but more often than not he’s drawn to the latest flashy thing to try.
But AFL AusKick and T20 Blast cricket seem to keep him in and enthused.
There’s no pay TV at home so his non-ABC3 choices, in terms of sport, are limited in the main to NRL, the A-League and Test and one-day cricket.
But none can keep him as absorbed as AFL and the Big Bash League.
The Renegades were up our way, you see.
Played a couple of practice matches against the Darren Lehmann Cricket Academy at Ballarat’s magnificent Eastern Oval after a clinic on the Friday before, where a young bloke named Tom Cooper and his mates signed the kids’ hats, played a match with them and, most importantly, were clearly keen to ensure the little ‘uns had fun.
In the Golden Point Cricket Club rooms, coaches Simon Helmot and Lloyd Mash gave a short batting seminar to a group of local coaches. They were outgoing, enthusiastic and engaging. Got ’em! Two generations. Hook, line and sinker.
So off we went last Saturday. Down to gate two at Etihad Stadium where the boy and 21 other excited kids in their T20 Blast shirts and hats were given matching black shorts and marched into the Melbourne Renegades members area before the Sydney Sixers BBL stoush.
Best seats in the house in the front row at fine leg next to the Renegades’ players’ race and drop-in nets. Before you know it dad’s pointing out the players to him, his sister and his mum.
There’s Murali – “he took the most Test wickets of all time with his funny action.” And there’s Brett Lee – “He hasn’t aged in years,” says the wife with a smile.
There’s Steve Smith having a hit in the nets without pads – “See how he makes a number nine with his elbow up when he drives?”
Oh and there’s Nathan Lyon – “He twists his body around lots when he bowls, Dad,” observes the daughter.
“Where’s Tom Cooper, Dad?” asks the boy, scanning Etihad for his new favourite player. “He’s injured, mate.”
Next thing you know, a Renegades hat has been bought with big sister’s pocket money along with a flag.
The little bloke has disappeared with the other kids and there are half a dozen or so lunatics on motorbikes going around on a ramp on the other side of the ground.
Mum and dad have a cold mid-strength beer each, there are fireworks and flames shooting skyward and the bloke in charge of the music coming from the speakers surrounding the playing area has clearly got the middle-aged, formerly flannelette-wearing grunge dads in the house in mind as his taste is superb.
As the freestyle motocross blokes follow each other for one last pass of death-defying backflips and the young lady from ABC3 revs up the crowd, the 22 kids sprint out of the players’ race and onto the ground, closely followed by the Renegades and Sixers.
Each of the cricketers make their way to the kids who are jumping out of their skins.
Murali bends down to talk to the boy at mid-on, has a quick chat, signs a way-cool Renegades 59FIFTY flat-peaked cap and pops it on his head.
The little fella removes it and stands there looking at his gift with wide-eyed wonderment, blissfully unaware he is supposed to be getting off the ground.
American sports business consultant Dan Migala, who has been assisting the Big Bash League clubs with their marketing strategies since their inception, believes that such is the cleverness of BBL fan engagement, U.S. sports franchises would do well to mimic them.
“One of the mantras we have worked on with the BBL is to . . . deliver entertainment that also happens to have a cricket match involved,” Migala told The Financial Review.
Guilty! Three overs into the Sixers innings and the young bloke is back and dad has become acutely aware that he’s barely watched a ball bowled. There’s just been too much going on.
Less than three hours later and the kids’ first live game of big time cricket is done and dusted.
They’ve seen Lee bowl around 150 clicks, their nostrils still full of the smoke from the pyrotechnics.
They’ve seen Moises Henriques bat and field out of his skin, and roared with laughter when that poor bastard in the crowd dropped a catch (and a year’s supply of beer) and fell over the fence and onto his head.
They’ve seen Steve Smith bounce a six off the window of a corporate box, and watched some insane motocross. All the while continuing their education in the heavy riffing of Queens of the Stoneage and more.
Brett Lee’s match-clinching over at the death was completed half an hour ago but the kids are still down at the fence clambering for autographs from some patient cricketers, most of whom could walk down Swanston Street without being recognised.
Even the coaches are signing caps. Among the Sri Lankan blokes getting their selfies with Murali and the young fans desperately calling out to the Renegades’ rock star, Dwayne Bravo, the kids are in.
Hook, line and sinker.
“With minor league baseball, for example, exit polls show that up to 90 percent of fans can’t necessarily remember the result of the game. But they have been entertained,” said Migala.
Not far off the mark at the Renegades v Sixers clash last Saturday. Guilty!
Great stuff, the BBL.
The kids love it. So does the missus. With the Renegades needing a win to keep their finals hopes alive, there was a rollercoaster of a plot running around in the background, larger than life characters that have become household names and some seriously amazing effects.
A good old fashioned close game of cricket that can suck you in but doesn’t get too cerebral. And all over in under three hours.
With dad hoping like buggery the joys of one game can lead his kids to those of the other.
(The young bloke was wearing his new Renegades hat under his bike helmet when he stepped off.)
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