I Don't Like Cricket... I Love It!

GROWING up we didn't have much in the way of stability. Dad's job in the army meant we moved around a bit: so much so that the school I finished up at was my eighth such institution (five primary and three secondary for the curious/nosey).
In that time we went from Townsville to Canberra to Brisbane to Toowoomba to Queanbeyan to Caboolture to Brisbane before I kicked on at boarding school in Toowoomba. They're all very different cities with very different climates.
But the more things changed the more they stayed the same.
Up until 1997 Dad's parents lived in the same place in Mildura; we always had a pet of some description (generally a dog); and weekends in summer would always see the same scene repeating itself in the lounge room. Dad would be sprawled out on the couch and simultaneously reading a book, listening to the radio and watching the cricket with the volume turned down. Often while asleep. Alter this finely-tuned balance and Dad would pipe up that he was watching/listening/reading that.
Just quietly, from the research I've done it seems this scene was repeated throughout the country.
All this is a long-winded way of saying that from a young age I've been indoctrinated with cricket. Where most would have been upset at the "bloody cricket" being on the tv yet again, my main concern was that I couldn't hear the commentators because the radio was on.
I couldn't hear the commentators last Friday either, but not because a close relative had turned on the radio to stop me from hearing what those esteemed gentlemen had to say about Ireland getting walloped by Australia. Indeed, I didn't have a radio to listen to.
Reason for this was that I watching a game of cricket at Lord's, the home of cricket.
This had been a goal for me since I began travelling to this side of the world two years ago, and while it wasn't the Ashes Test I was hoping for at the time (courtesy of a media officer not approving my application for a press pass), the MCC (Marylebone Cricket Club) against county champions Sussex would do nicely.
I arrived just after the first over of the season, which contained the first wicket of the season when James Kirtley forced Nick Compton to edge to slips. All this is worthy of nothing other than the fact that I was sitting in the Denis Compton stands (Nick is the grandson of the late England great).
There was still room for the surreal though: early on I was reading an article by Times cricket writer Christopher Martin-Jenkins about the start of the English season while son Robin Martin-Jenkins fielded in front of me at deep fine leg.
There were around 50 people in the stand I was in, scattered around like someone had thrown a handful of dice. Behind me a group of Sussex lads cheered on their mate Chris Nash, applauding his every dive, throw and stretch with a gusto only long-time mates can do without embarassment.
There was probably another 100 or so in the stand to my right, while the MCC members took up their seats in front of the pavilion. Some MCC players - who included Steve Harmison and Matthew Hoggard in the numbers - sprawled out on the home team's verandah while up in the media centre a handful of journalists enjoyed an Alistair Cook century on an otherwise uneventful day.
Actually, that's not true. The MCC lost three wickets in the last session, but by that stage I was gone; off to listen to people bitch about the fact they were seated in the front row of a comedy show (three even walked out after the first act).
But that's another story for another time...

For an alternative view on the first day check out this BBC report.