A
trip to another club might happen early in your club career, or it could even
be your first match. It normally involves a flustered captain trying to marshal
the troops as eleven bedraggled souls enter the car park one by one. That is,
if the skipper is lucky. The meet time for an away game is often under or over
done by a good hour. Sometimes a 5-mile trip will involve a meet at 11.30am for
a 1.30pm start, whereas I have known of clubs travelling the distance of the
county and meeting at 12.00pm. In my experience, this ends badly...
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| Convoy Leader... |
Every
club in the world has the following within their ranks:
Mark Thatcher – named after
the ex-Prime Minister’s son who famously got lost in the Sahara Desert, most
sides have an individual who always pretends that he knows where he’s going. In
reality he doesn’t have a clue. Never, ever let this man lead the convoy as he
will reduce your warm-up and stretching time. He has been responsible for many an
opening bowler’s torn hamstring.
Mark Thatcher Mark Two – this guy will
get the name of the venue that you’re due to visit wrong, taking you completely
to the wrong place. Three gentlemen at our club went to a ground at Batchworth
once instead of Datchworth, a mere 25 miles away. Ex-England cricketer Chris
Lewis once ended up in Newport in South Wales instead of Newport in Shropshire
where an England training camp was taking place. This was no fewer than 150
miles in the wrong direction.
Ayrton Senna – his last
words on leaving the clubhouse will be, ‘I know where it is lads, just follow
me.’ It’s at this point that, instead of leading the convoy, he jumps the
lights outside your club and tears off into the distance at great speed,
leaving three or four cars behind him stuck at a red light, without a clue
where they are going.
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| "I'll lead the way...." |
The Rip van Winkle – 15 minutes
after the meet time this man is woken by a telephone call from his screeching
skipper demanding to know where he is. Often this’ll be a man who doesn’t drive
or is so hungover that he couldn’t possibly get into his car. Faced with the
option of going with ten men, the skipper has no choice but to wait for him at
the club, meaning that the whole team turn up late for the game.
The Fat Bastard – despite you
running horrendously late for your away game, this bloke knows he isn’t going
to get fed until tea. He therefore punctuates his journey with a visit to the
drive-through of a well-known fast-food chain. This again causes lateness,
which means further stress and anxiety for your skipper.
The People Carrier – many a
clubbie in lower XIs is picked due to the fact that he has a big car. No matter
what his form is like, the fact that he has a seven-seat people carrier and can
get kit into his automobile means his place in the side is safe.
The Snail – despite
running late due to a Rip van Winkle, this man has no concept of urgency. The
scenic route or taking a highway full of roadworks is his usual method of
travel and will still drive at 28mph despite the skipper urging him to put his pedal
to the metal.
The Tearaway – often a
youngster who has just passed his driving test, this man is the antithesis of
the Snail. Terrifying his passengers, the last thing they want to do is play
cricket after a journey with this chap. One of my ex-team mates once threatened
to fight ‘a tearaway’ after he clocked 140mph on the A1 on the way back from a
game.
The Clueless Skipper – this is a man
without any concept of a major event taking place en route to your game. A game
in West London will always involve a quick look to see if any football match is
taking place at Wembley, or, for a visit to a Hertfordshire ground, you’ll need
to see if a concert is taking place at Knebworth House. Needless to say, this
guy’s blood pressure went through the roof as eleven of us tried to navigate our
way through 100,000 people going to an Oasis gig back in the 1990s.
The Alzheimer’s Skipper – as a 12-year-old,
I was a scorer for a club in North London. Imagine my sheer panic when I
suddenly looked around the opposition clubhouse and found out that my team had
all left without me. My mother, who was due to pick me up from the home
clubhouse, was none-too-impressed either when all of the cars returned back
there sans me. A phone call was made
from the club in question to our club and things were sorted out. Luckily, the
chairman of the club offered to pay for a taxi, which he kindly did, but not
before the skipper received a major bollocking for leaving a kid behind.
The
introduction of satnav systems have helped the club cricketer vastly in this
regard, but they can’t eradicate lateness. Do yourself and your skipper a
favour and arrive 5 minutes earlier than the meet time. Your place in the
batting order might depend on it.
The above is a free chapter from The Definitive Guide to Club Cricket. Your copy can be ordered here...
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