And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
The present only is our own
So live, love, toil with a will
Place no faith in "Tomorrow,"
For the Clock may then be still.
The Clock of Life by Robert H Smith
Hi everyone!
After some 570,000
turns of the minute hand of my own Clock of Life and over 2 billion seconds, today is Day:23,742 for me.
My 65th Birthday !
A day for memories
of Times Past.
And perhaps just a nod toward Tomorrow.
And perhaps just a nod toward Tomorrow.
But as for Today,
well the Sandwiches are cut, the Salad is prepared (OK, it’s a couple of small tomatoes)
and the Pork Pie is in; never in doubt!!
I’m off to Lords
for the cricket: Day 3 of Middlesex v Yorkshire in the Championship.
With Nigel, a good friend from the Fitz Class of '71
With Nigel, a good friend from the Fitz Class of '71
I was at Lords on
Day:7,671 - 44 years ago today on Thursday 21st June 1973 - for my 21st
Birthday.
Was the Clock hovering somewhere
around - hopefully just before - quarter past the hour?
Peter Williams (a childhood friend from St Mark’s Primary School days), the Young Man (from even further
back than that) and I sat on the upper tier of the Compton Stand at the Nursery
End for Day 1 of England v New Zealand.
Ray Illingworth
captained England who ended the day on 240 for 9, with a steady 61 from Geoff
Boycott and a sparkling 63 from Tony Greig, the Sussex captain.
Greigy
At the Cromwell Road end, Hove
I sat looking out across the ground looking up to Father Time, who has watched over the cricket at Lords since the mid 1920’s.
Father
Time is not always a hard parent and though he tarries for none of his
children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making
them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits
young and in full vigour.
With
such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in
giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar
of a well-spent life.
Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens
I thought back – as I always do on visits to
the Home of Cricket – to the first time I ever watched a game there. It was on
Day:3,263, Saturday 27th May 1961.
Was the Clock at barely 6 minutes
past the hour?
It was Marylebone Cricket
Club - MCC (captained by Colin Cowdrey, with Young Jim keeping wicket) v The
Australians (captained by Richie Benaud).
There were
centuries for two Australians: 104 from Bill Lawry and 122 from Norman O’Neill.
Dad & I sat in
the Warner stand, which was only a couple of years old back in 1961.
50+ years on, I can
sense the hands on the Clock gathering speed for the stand has recently been
demolished and rebuilt.
Young Ric & Dad
The Mermaid Hotel, Rye in the early 1970's
My cousin Linda's wedding
Young Ric & Dad
The Mermaid Hotel, Rye in the early 1970's
My cousin Linda's wedding
Barely a handful of you reading the blog will have known Dad.
It is over 35 years since he died, but Dad's influence on me - how I see the world and value the people in it - is still as strong ever.
It is over 35 years since he died, but Dad's influence on me - how I see the world and value the people in it - is still as strong ever.
I have felt him
walking by my side every day of my life. His hand in mine on
days of Triumph and of Disaster; I’ve always tried, as Kipling wrote, to treat
those two Impostors just the same.
For what it's worth, Graham Greene, that quintessentially English novelist, was right:
For what it's worth, Graham Greene, that quintessentially English novelist, was right:
Success is more dangerous than Failure, the ripples break over a wider coastline.
As we headed back that Saturday evening to
Tunbridge Wells, we drove across South East London and out along the Bromley Road.
Though Dad & I had no absolutely idea, we were within barely a mile of Merryfield where Dianne and I would live contentedly for 30 years and more.
Though Dad & I had no absolutely idea, we were within barely a mile of Merryfield where Dianne and I would live contentedly for 30 years and more.
Lady Piper & Lord Mylo
At Merryfield: May 2017
It had been a great day at the Cricket, the game Dad & I have loved all our lives, starting out as players and then retiring to watch from the
famous deckchairs at the Cromwell Road end at Hove.
Like Dad, my club
cricket would be played on the village greens of Kent and Sussex.
My first game of
club cricket was on Day:5,479. Wednesday 21st June
1967, my 15th birthday.
If I'm to make it - as I'm determined I will - to Summer 2039 for the 200th Anniversary lunch of my beloved Sussex, the Clock will need to have been around 10 minutes past the hour !
If I'm to make it - as I'm determined I will - to Summer 2039 for the 200th Anniversary lunch of my beloved Sussex, the Clock will need to have been around 10 minutes past the hour !
It was an evening
game for Hawkenbury Wednesdays against Tonbridge Occasionals.
Hawkenbury Cricket Ground
Hawkenbury Cricket Ground
The Hedge End is on the left
A Hawks player had dropped out on the Tuesday afternoon & the Hawks Wednesday captain George Bennett – whose wife knew Mum through the Banner Farm Ladies Association – had rung that evening to ask if I’d like a game.
I cycled home from
school, collected my kit and walked the 20 minutes to the ground.
George introduced me to the other Hawks players.
The Occasionals won
the toss and batted.
I bowled a couple
of overs and a ‘straight up & downer’ gave me my first wicket in club
cricket.
When the Hawks
batted, whilst they pretty much kept up with the required scoring rate, they regularly lost
wickets.
The 9th
wicket fell on the final ball of the penultimate over with 8 runs still needed.
A few minutes before 7.30 a very nervous
Number 11 batsman on debut walked to the non-striker’s end.
Des Hitch, who was the
Hawks Sunday captain, came up & said to me:
When I say run, run like the wind, Ric.
And Good Luck!
When I say run, run like the wind, Ric.
And Good Luck!
The scorebook for
the final over records:
Ball
|
Batsman
|
Runs
|
1
|
Des
|
⁃
|
2
|
Des
|
1
|
3
|
Ric
|
⁃
|
4
|
Ric
|
3
|
5
|
Des
|
1
|
It had all come
down - as it so often does in a Lord Ric Blog – to the final ball of the game.
1 wicket left. 3 runs to get. All
results possible.
Less than one second from the ball leaving the bowler's hand to determine the result.
Less than one second from the ball leaving the bowler's hand to determine the result.
The Occasionals captain conferred with the bowler and together they tinkered with the field
placings.
Des gave me some
well-meaning advice: Play the ball on
its merits.
I looked round the
ground.
50 years on I can remember exactly what I saw as though it was all engraved in slow motion.
50 years on I can remember exactly what I saw as though it was all engraved in slow motion.
On the Square Cover
boundary a dog walker and his West Highland terrier had paused to watch the denouement.
Beyond Extra Cover
word had reached the tennis courts that the game had got close, very close. The
mixed-doubles had stopped playing and were peering through the
perimeter netting.
All the Hawks
players were standing outside the Pavilion.
And to the right of
the Pavilion on the Long Off boundary I saw a man in a navy blue jumper on a bench by the oak trees.
Sitting impassively, he was grey haired, his face tanned from many Seasons watching cricket.
Sitting impassively, he was grey haired, his face tanned from many Seasons watching cricket.
A man in a navy blue jumper
I didn’t need to
wonder what he was thinking nor seek his advice.
For I knew that Dad
would be expecting me to answer that essential question which we all face:
What’s the point of Life if you
don’t Give It A Go?
There was only one
shot in my armoury which I could play with a decent chance of scoring the 3 runs needed to secure a victory for the Hawks: the one-bounce through Midwicket
for four.
I asked the Umpire
for a new guard of Middle Stump; and turned to the legside for one final look
at the field placings.
The Occasionals captain must have guessed what I was going to try to do for he moved himself
from Second Slip to Midwicket, about two-thirds of the way to the boundary on the Bowling Green side of the ground.
And so it was that by a couple of minutes after 7.30 on the evening of Wednesday 21st June 1967, exactly half a century ago today, we had reached - what in modern day T20 they call - the Death Ball.
From behind the stumps the wicketkeeper chirruped: Come on, Boys. We can win this one!
The Umpire called: Play.
And the bowler ran in six or seven strides to the wicket
In truth, the ball was a little fuller than I would have ideally chosen, but it was on my favourite middle / middle & leg.
From behind the stumps the wicketkeeper chirruped: Come on, Boys. We can win this one!
The Umpire called: Play.
And the bowler ran in six or seven strides to the wicket
In truth, the ball was a little fuller than I would have ideally chosen, but it was on my favourite middle / middle & leg.
I swung my bat as
hard as I could and felt contact with the ball.
I looked out to Midwicket.
The Occasionals captain didn’t even move.
But then he didn’t
need to … I had got a thick outside edge.
The ball had gone
at catchable height to the right of the just vacated Second Slip and run down
to the Hedge End of the ground for 4!!
The Hawks had won.
The Occasionals Captain came over and said wryly: Good shot, youngster.
The Captain and I both realised that, although the Field Marshal (probably!) wasn't watching the Hawks that particular game, Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltlke the Elder was right:
The Occasionals Captain came over and said wryly: Good shot, youngster.
The Captain and I both realised that, although the Field Marshal (probably!) wasn't watching the Hawks that particular game, Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltlke the Elder was right:
No plan survives first contact with the enemy.
Des came up to me.
Well
done, Young Ric!
Let me buy a Birthday pint at The Spread.*
Let me buy a Birthday pint at The Spread.*
And
are you available to play on Sunday?
*Editor: As Young Ric was only 15 this was a pint of
Lemonade; obviously!!
The Spread Eagle, Forest Road
Too many Sunday evenings spent there to even begin to count !
So many, many happy memories of playing club cricket in the 1960’s, 70’s and ‘80s.
For the Hawks,
Paddock Wood and Tunbridge Wells Borderers; especially the Saturday 2nd
XI brilliantly led by Arthur Edwards, then Nigel Turner and finally by the Young Man himself.
There are famous victories
to recount, long ago forgotten defeats and - above all – friendships to cherish.
It's over 30 years since I played my last game of club cricket.
(Sorry, Pete, it was a terrible shot I got out to; one which denied you getting a well-deserved 50.)
But when I see the names from scorebooks long ago - Bishopp, Clarke, Clayton, Green, Hardwick (K & P), Hill & others - in the Fixtures I know that watching cricket in the sun with them is always going to be a Special Day.
The old friend is a guardian of memories on which we might otherwise have a damagingly tenuous hold...
Remembering what it was like not to be what we are now.
Sathnam Sanghera
It's over 30 years since I played my last game of club cricket.
(Sorry, Pete, it was a terrible shot I got out to; one which denied you getting a well-deserved 50.)
But when I see the names from scorebooks long ago - Bishopp, Clarke, Clayton, Green, Hardwick (K & P), Hill & others - in the Fixtures I know that watching cricket in the sun with them is always going to be a Special Day.
The old friend is a guardian of memories on which we might otherwise have a damagingly tenuous hold...
Remembering what it was like not to be what we are now.
Sathnam Sanghera
As for Des, he took me under
his wing and initiated me in the ways of Sunday club cricket.
A retired
semi-professional footballer for Eastbourne United, Des was an estate agent and sometime property
developer.
He was the first person I knew who owned a Jaguar, in which he often gave me a lift home.
He was the first person I knew who owned a Jaguar, in which he often gave me a lift home.
The S-type
Driven by Des; & in the 1980's by DI Jack Regan in The Sweeney
One day, Des, I'll drive a Jag. And - though it took me nearly 30 years - one day I did !!
One Sunday we were
away against Leigh on the village green where cricket has been played since the
early 18th century.
The Village Green, Leigh
The Village Green, Leigh
After the game we
joined the opposition for a couple of pints (each!) in the local pub.
The Fleur De Lis
The Fleur De Lis
By barely 10.30 we
were ready to leave.
The Jag knew its
way home and we were soon round the back of Bidborough and on through
Southborough.
As we passed
Southfields and the Cross Keys pub by Powder Mill Lane a red Ferrari overtook the Jag.
Did Des and I
really chase Stirling Moss in a Ferrari down St John’s Road at 100 miles an
hour?
Ferrari 250 TR58
Stirling Moss at the wheel
Well, #JustPerhaps we did ….
For as both cars sped by the turning to Culverden Down and the Ferrari swung right along Mount Ephraim towards Stormonts garage and the Kent & Sussex hospital, a policeman flagged down the Jag.
Evening,
sir. Who do think you are: Stirling Moss?
No
officer, Stirling was ahead of us in the Ferrari we were chasing!
It looked for all
the world that Des was Bang To Rights.
But on that Sunday
evening long, long ago the Cricketing Gods were smiling down on Des for the
policeman was Charlie Morphy who lived in one of the police houses in Dorset
Road leading up to the Hawks’ ground and who – shifts permitting – was an
opening bowler for the Saturday 1st XI.
On
your way Des. On your way.
---
Sadly, Des and I lost touch after I moved from Tunbridge Wells.
But a few years ago back in September 2011 I saw the Family Announcement in the Kent & Sussex Courier that Des had passed away, with
78 years recorded in the scorebook.
ER Hickmott &
Sons organised the funeral at St Mark’s Church.
I like to think that they used
one of their Jaguars for the hearse.
And
that there was time for one last spin down St John’s Road!
----
Place no faith in "Tomorrow,"
For the Clock may then be still.
Please … Don’t ever be tempted to leave your own Bucket List until your “Tomorrow”.
After
all ….
Why read a Lord Ric Cricket Blog, when You can star in your own?
See you soon!!
Lord Ric of Beckley Furnace
Follow me on Twitter: LordRic52
PS
On a day when inevitably I’ll
be thinking about my own Clock of Life, you and I both might like to contemplate:
Eternity
Think
of a ball of steel as large as the world.
And
a fly alighting on it once every million years.
When
the ball of steel is rubbed away by the friction, Eternity will not even have
begun.
The Picturegoers by David Lodge
With all - bar the first 65 years - of Eternity remaining
Plenty of "Final ball of the game" Lord Ric blogs still to happen !!
Plenty of "Final ball of the game" Lord Ric blogs still to happen !!
