AuthorGarry White

The Vanishing Sport


I took my kid to winter nets last weekend. He has turned ten now, and this marks his first exposure to a hard ball. To ease them in gently the coaches intersperse the hand-smacking cherry with a tennis ball and one of those “Incrediball” things. They swing so much that even I can project one with the “Sultan of Swing” menace of a slightly older Jimmy Anderson. Give it a go. You won’t be...

One Watch Down. And Now My Next Watch Begins.


One-nil down. Where do you go from there? If you happen to be the England cricket team in Australia, usually only further down. All the way, crashing through the basement into the hard earth beneath. For a short while, much like with the England Football team before a major tournament, I allowed myself to believe. Australia are not all that I thought. We were showing blemishes of form and...

In Keeping With Tradition: A Tribute To Chris Read


There is a scene in an old episode of The Simpsons where Principal Skinner is addressing a new intake of students and Bart scuppers it by unfurling a banner with the message – “Skinner is a wiener”. The Principal of Springfield Elementary looks up forlornly to the heavens and mutters “you’ve lost them Seymour. You’ve lost them”. He knows immediately that regardless of what he does throughout the...

Our Dear Old Blowers


I suppose that Henry Blofeld has often divided opinion. You could almost describe him as the Jeremy Corbyn of the commentary box – a sobriquet that is deliberately facetious as I think it would be stretching credibility to suggest that Blowers is hiding even a hint of red under the bed. He might have a picnic hamper, perhaps, and maybe a jeroboam or two, but Mao’s little red book? I...

40 Not Out … And That’s Just The Waistline


I turn 40 this week. Don’t worry, this isn’t a Brian Johnston style appeal for cake. I won’t suddenly be sending out “thank yous” to Mrs. Cholmondeley in Upper Piddle for delivering a rather nice chocolate sponge with strawberries on top. But cake or no cake, these type of milestones do tend to focus the mind – firstly on where the last 20 years have gone and more critically on where the...

A Codger’s Comeback


Sooner or later we all fall prey to the pitfalls old cricket club sages warned us about. You know the kind of people? The unreconstructed types that played cricket every Saturday and Sunday for 40 years despite being married with 6 kids. When asked for their secret they’d simply reply that they “tell the wife, straight…” These people are always a curious combination of Geoff Boycott’s boorish...

The Golden Age Of Umpires


I am conscious of my own personal preponderance to wallow in nostalgia of late. Something I should give up based on the adage that nostalgia ain’t what it used to be. Too many backward glances down the old barely lit paths of the mind – at best a dodgy incursion into loose slabs and hidden potholes. It’s fun in moderation but gets a bit Victor Meldrew if you linger too long...

What Are Your ‘Stolen Moments’?


My childhood was eons ago. It was a world before the internet, blanket media and instantaneous access to information. A world that my kids think is somewhere between the Jurassic period and Victorian England. A dystopian world where dinosaurs routinely knocked down buildings and feasted on mangled chimney sweeps. My oldest son once participated in a school project that featured a picture of a...

The Ghosts of Cricket Past and Future


Back in those hard hitting and intoxicated days before Christmas and the New Year – a mere stitch back in time when the elastic on my trousers was relaxed and my liver chipper and fighting fit – I wrote a morose piece on Why Red Cards Have No Place In Cricket. I promised or threatened, depending on how you look at it, to write a follow up on why day/night Ashes Test Matches are akin...

Red Cards Have No Place In Cricket


“Say it ain’t so Joe” the little kid may have said to Baseball legend Shoeless Joe Jackson. Or Ray Liotta, depending on whether he had seen the movie “Field of Dreams” or not. What we do know is it has been repeated multiple times in a million schmaltzy Baseball books and films. I am beginning to know how the kid felt. I am experiencing the same dream shattering unease about Cricket and the...

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