I fully realise how daft this will sound, but I promise you Lord’s looks just as beautiful in the flesh as it does on TV, which had been my only experience of the dear old place until Monday just gone.
It was a memorable day’s cricket, but if I’m perfectly honest I would have been quite happy to sit looking at the unspeakably gorgeous pavilion for six hours, with perhaps the odd glance away to the unique and space age media centre over to my left.
I have managed to reach middle age without going there, but it just seemed like too good a chance to miss. The fifth day, a winnable match, £20 for me and my 15-year-old son to get in, and some cheap train tickets. It was a Bank Holiday and only a few other people seemed keen to start a 200-mile journey at 6am.
So, scarcely being able to believe our luck, and only having got lost once on the way, we arrived at 10am and incredibly, in this age of allocated seating and barcoded tickets, were able to get in via the simple expedient of giving a nice old lady standing at a table £20.
In return, we were allowed to sit (nearly) anywhere we liked, and came back with memories that will last a lifetime.
Ben Stokes is starting to give us Poms some hope that we may at least try to meet fire with fire in the Ashes. He had smacked it to all parts for a silly and victory-enabling century on Sunday afternoon, and when he got ball in hand he took two huge wickets by force of will in the early afternoon, getting rid of the stickable Williamson. He then sent the magnificent McCullum back to the Long Room immediately with a terrifying ball to get first up: a ripping, spitting off-cutter that the new Zealand captain chopped on to his stumps.
A fair bit has been written about the more ‘democratic’ nature of the crowd, given the cheap tickets. I guess there may be something in that, although there was still plenty of Pimms flowing and many extraordinary, batty but quite endearing examples of old school ties, luminous red trousers and egg and bacon blazers.
By the way, to buy one of those you obviously need to be an MCC member and they are on sale at a special shop which us plebs were not even allowed to go into! Reminiscent – in that way only – of the Party Store in Soviet Russia.
My overwhelming impression of the crowd was of people knowing they were lucky to be at such a special place on an important day.
Many families were present, and overhearing some of the conversations it seemed many people were attending their first game of cricket. In front of us there was a Kiwi couple with their three young children. From the youngsters’ accents it sounded as though they are probably living over here.
They were beautifully behaved, with mum having shelled out a small fortune on ”Lord’s: Home of Cricket” sunhats to protect their freckles from the sun, which was quite warm for half an hour or so before lunch! Dad was trying to explain some of the finer points but Mum refused point-blank to accept my assurances that there really is a five run penalty if the ball hits the helmet. Well, it is a bit of a strange rule…
I cannot in all honesty agree with some who have described the atmosphere as “raucous”. Enthusiastic, certainly.
There was some rhythmic clapping and roaring in of the bowlers but it honestly didn’t compare with, for example, a decent turnout by Leeds United away from home or, I dare say, Melbourne at 4pm on Boxing Day.
What it was, though, was everything I had hoped and more. Gripping, high-quality cricket (ok, no proper spinners) in a unique and instantly recognisable setting. A day I may never forget.
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