Page 5 - Bray Celebrity Cricket Programme Final

His field was sold to a local builder who erected a house bought by a Mrs Shirt, who I fancied like mad—but that is another story, and nothing to do with cricket. Percy Bailey became a nobody overnight and we went back to the lamp-posts.
Given that kind of experience it is not to be wondered at that I am elated about becoming the owner of a cricket pitch. It has been the ambition of a lifetime. I got some experience of the power of being a ground owner last season when the pitch was just a lawn. Then, in spite of atrocious conditions, I played several fine innings helped, I confess, by a personal interpretation of the rules which is the privilege of an owner/player. For instance, playing my children and needing 279 to win, I hit the first ball I received into the river.
‘That’s out,’ said Andrew delightedly. ‘Not so,’ I said. ‘But those are our rules; in the river or break a window is out,’ he said. ‘Ah, but it’s not out if it hits the willow tree before it goes into the river,’ I said. ‘Who says?’ said Andrew. ‘I do,’ I said, and resumed my innings.
To give you a better idea of this paradise on earth I have to describe the setting as I strike out to take first knock. I come out of the French windows, down the terrace steps and take guard facing the river. The green shed with the broken windows is the wicket, Gunn and Moore are at mid-off and mid-on, while Geoffrey Boycott looks ravishing at deep point. The river is behind the bowler’s arm, this being the only cricket pitch in the world where long-on requires a boat or, alternatively, the facility to walk on water.
A ball in the river is six and out except if it is caught by the occupant of a passing pleasure cruiser, in which case the game is abandoned while we all race down to the nearest lock to retrieve it.
Visiting batsmen find it difficult to adjust to these unique conditions, but their problems are slight compared to the bowler’s. The wicket is atop a small plateau approached at the bowler’s end by a gentle slope which suddenly sprouts into a small mountain. Thus the last few yards of the bowler’s run are up an almost vertical face and, if he is not careful, the delivery stride is likely to end with the back foot halfway down the mountain and the front foot on the plateau. This is a somewhat inelegant and painful position which has been known to make the bowler’s eyes water.
Some players, anticipating the difficulty beforehand, have tried delivery while running up the mountain with the result that the ball
I had made 120 or so without much further bother when I flicked the ball to square leg where the cat was fielding and broke the shed window. ‘Out,’ said Andrew. ‘Not so, it hit the cat first,’ I said, making up yet another new rule. I went on to make 623 before declaring.
EL PARKINSON
A