In The Summertime

Cricket is back. Thank goodness.....

Looking back on recent events, it seems to me that one of the biggest, single challenges during lockdown was finding things to do when stuck indoors all day, every day, in order to fill up the time between waking and going to sleep. I defy anyone, unless they have an iron will, not to become nocturnal and eccentric to a greater or lesser extent, when the only prospect for human interaction is the occasional wave across the road to a friend or acquaintance during the permitted hour’s daily exercise. Even then, it becomes ever harder to find the motivation to move from your couch to walk or cycle when the only purpose for doing so is the act itself. Tynemouth’s a wonderful place to live, but the only directions you can go are north or west. Cycling the same paths for the sake of cycling loses its appeal after a while.

 Undoubtedly, I became lazier, more gluttonous and intemperate after I began working from home the start of April. Once I was furloughed, life became a tawdry version of suspended animation, where television seemed to be my best friend and constant companion. Ordinarily, that isn’t me. I crave discourse and action, or at least I used to. Now, as we emerge hesitant and blinking into a new normal of masks and hand sanitisers being de rigeur in all social situations, in my case I know it to be true that I must gorge myself not on junk food and craft ales, but on human interaction, fresh air, sunlight, a change of scenery and exercise, even if my return to 6-a-side football showed that even a bloke in an induced coma would have quicker reactions than me. Putting on weight and seeing my psoriasis become appreciably worse without exposure to natural Vitamin D can crush the spirit, even before factoring in the unexpected and terrifying aspects of social anxiety about the end of lockdown. However, I think I’ve cracked it; providing the weather remains largely clement, and especially dry, cricket, like it did in 2015, will save me from the worst ravishes of anxiety and depression. In fact, it is already doing so.

 The news that recreational cricket was to be allowed from July 11^th onwards was enough to make my heart dance with joy. While local leagues sorted out what form competitive cricket could take (a kind of geographically specific mini Benson & Hedges for all the various Banks competitions in the NEPL, two cups for the tragically truncated NEMWC and local mini leagues in the NTSCL, though no news appears to be sad news as far as Northumberland is concerned), there were preludial friendly games to bring the game back slowly. At Tynemouth, on a gloriously sunny Saturday, an impressive crowd of over 200 gathered in a responsible, socially distant manner that observed the protocols required by the ECB and those idiots in government, to watch a mixture of first and second teams, captained by Matty Brown and Martin Pollard, play a very watchable competitive 40-over contest that was just shaded by Matty’s team.

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Apart from the participants, the result did not matter; what was important was to see the whole club community gathered together to celebrate the sport we love. In the case of the Tynemouth Bad Boys, it was a case of a great pre-season gathering, spent getting screamingly drunk and talking incessantly about golf for the most part. Perhaps that’s why I fell asleep in the bar and then again in Northumberland Park on the way home. Then again it could just have been the Moretti. And the Punk IPA. And the Estrella. And the shots of Sambucca. Anyway, it was lovely to see everyone again, especially those who dragged their carcase out of the pit to play in Sunday’s Thirds v Academy game, where youthful endeavour proved Emma Micawber wrong; experientia doesn’t always does it. It was another game to enjoy for the sake of it, though the Don’s batting masterclass gave me a few pointers for the season to come.

Unfortunately, there were no Stewart Poynters, or Mike Jones, to be had the following weekend; both on Durham duty. While the seconds travelled to Benwell Hill, the firsts locked horns at Preston Avenue, where the home side prevailed by one wicket, meaning JED Carr was spared the ordeal of trying to win the game for the second time. Of course the man who kickstarted Ben Stokes’s career in a County Under 17 game, had effectively won the game for Tynemouth when proving himself to be a contemporary Malleus Scotorum when dismissing Caledonian Captain Kyle Coetzer with a delivery that Wasim Akram would have been proud of. Shame Jimmy managed to accidentally make himself unavailable for the delayed 2019 Smithson Cup final at Jesmond against Newcastle the day after, as we turned out a side including more Academy lads than first teamers, so it was always going to be tough.

 Having missed the undercard of Alnmouth and Lesbury beating Percy Main off the penultimate ball in the Plate final, it seemed after 10 overs that this would not be so close a contest. Newcastle had reached 135/1 at the halfway point, mainly through the kind of hitting that was once the preserve of Jacques DuToit, by Kieran Trevaskis and an immense 80 from 31 balls, including 10 sixes, by Ollie Hairs. At this point, wicketkeeper captain Matty Brown took off his pads, passed them to Euan “Tynecastle” Stenhouse and brought himself on. He took 4/17 and was ably assisted by David Mansfield’s more than decent 3/20. The final total was 198 all out which was clearly impressive and obviously enough to win this game, but far less severe than it might have been. Indeed, when looking for positives, not one of the Tynemouth lads hid in the field; there were no recriminations and positivity was the key word.  In reply, Tynemouth totalled a decent 151/9, with Matty Brown, Ben Debnam, David Mansfield and Tynecastle himself, all getting solid 25s.

 As could be expected, Jesmond was glorious in the sun and I’d estimate about 300 showed their support, showing that the absence of the world’s greatest game has made the heart grow fonder. Of course, the bar did a roaring trade, as did The Punchbowl afterwards, where the Two By Two Snake Eyes IPA was liquid nectar as ever, not forgetting the fabulous Cuban street food concession where many of us gorged on magnificent meat treats. It was also a great pleasure to catch up with my dear pal David, who has been given a clean bill of health after a traumatic time for him and his family. Thanks for your time mate; until the next one eh?

 So, what lies in store when the real stuff begins this week? Firstly, Tynemouth Bad Boys play Belmont Tigers in the Just Sport Cup on Thursday, before the firsts host Newcastle on Saturday in a 40-over Banks Game and the Thirds welcome Blagdon Park 2s to the development pitch. As I alluded to earlier; I want to get out and about. I’ve got my mask for public transport, so I’m hoping to tick off some of the NEPL grounds I’ve not visited, specifically Crook and Willington this Sunday and Philadelphia the week after. That will leave me with Lanchester and Castle Eden as realistic targets, though not Shotley Bridge, as they have opted against playing competitive senior cricket this year, which is a shame. As the season is scheduled until September 20^th, I can put football on the back burner until then. After that, I’ve got 10 Northern Alliance grounds to visit, which should take me to the end of the year and the prospect of another assault on the SPFL in 2021, forecasts of a second wave notwithstanding. That’s the future; cricket is the present and I’m going to immerse myself in it.