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I’m not sure whether it’s the result of my parents raising me as an only child, or whether it was being captivated by the bowling techniques of a pudgy blonde spin bowler back in the early 90s.
Whatever the case, for some reason or another I have been an obsessed cricket nerd since my adolescence, so much in fact I even played (I rate myself quite the all-rounder), donning the whites for an Auckland club and loving every minute.
Now when one is an only child your options for self-amusement are rather skint. In the school holidays it was either playing Scrabble with my cat (she always won too, the shifty bitch), or watch cricket. I chose the latter.
And so I watched. There I lay, sprawled out on the lounge floor amusing myself all summer, while other 14-year olds were discovering fun things like cigarettes and Street Fighter 2.
Fast forward past the teenage career failings of a rock-star and professional athlete and into my early 20s, you would find me on the terraces at Eden Park, overlooking the Blackcaps and smiling like a Cheshire cat.
No matter what life has thrown at me, my desire to watch Test matches, one-dayers and now Twenty20, has never diminished.
The 2006-2007 Ashes series features in the highlight reel of my yet to be concluded life. I’d just moved across to Australia and convinced a cousin to support my life’s dream of watching Shane Warne bowl. This series was to be his last ever on Australian soil, and nothing was going to stop me witnessing history.
That sweltering second day of play was incredible. England were at the crease and I watched Warne take not one but two wickets. I celebrated by purchasing an Aussie cricket cap to wear for the ride home.
It’s the small things that make me happy.
I try but always to no avail to get friends and co-workers to come to matches with me. The last one I attended was earlier this summer, to watch Warne’s Melbourne Stars play the Sydney Sixers at the SCG, but it was only after bribing a girlfriend with free alcohol and the promise of heading out for some dancing after the game that she agreed to come with me.
More often than not the conversations go something along the lines of the following:
Me: Will you please come to the cricket with me, my shout.
Girlfriend: No way.
Me: But it’s so fun! A day out in the sun, the buzz of the crowd, it’s amazing!
Girlfriend: You really need a boyfriend.
So due to not being that desperate to be loved up, old Nigel no mates here often just stays at home, reluctantly enjoying the magic on the big screen. This often coincides with commentating to myself and numerous social media updates.
But guess what? I still have the best time!
I had a conversation yesterday with one of my friends about cricket, her stating that cricket players are not athletes, me trying to explain the mental and physical exhaustion they are under when performing, her in turn bursting into laughter several times. We concluded that she will attend a one-dayer with me. Whether she can make it to tea break is yet to be seen.
Ok so this post still has not really deciphered what exactly it is that thrills me about cricket, so I’ll throw in some keys points on what gets me going.
A team winning or losing off the one remaining ball. A six being smashed for the win. That sound of the stumps being cracked. A sneaky sweeping shot. That shared moment of laughter between batsman and bowler when there is a near miss. The lingering dismissal of being caught out after an ill attempt at a high ball. Brendon McCullum.
If you love cricket I’m sure you nodded in agreement at a few of the above.
Finally, if you are heading to a match be sure to let me know.
Bring on tomorrow!
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