Dances With Chazzwazzers

Thanks for bearing with the brevity of recent blog posts. It’s been a busy ol’ week and today’s been no exception. A snatched moment between shifts brings this week’s pie review.

The Green Man Pie courtesy of my mate Top Chef Neil is, in itself, well worth a trip to the scenic village of Eversholt in Bedfordshire. A substantial dish filled bubbling to the brim in a deep, rich gravy with succulent, chunks of prime steak allied to the greatest supplement possibly in the history of cooking, mushrooms, makes for a first class filling. Add to this the wispy brown pastry and this is a glorious pie to beat all comers.

Anyway, back to work now. Travelling was never this much effort…

http://www.greenmaneversholt.com/Home.html

I, along with several million other subscribers, pay over fifty quid a month to Sky. I do this because I love my sport and because Sky holds the viewing rights to the sports I love. The coverage, for the most part, is excellent. Today was even better.

The County Championship. Somerset vs Warwickshire. Live on telly. Magnificent.

Why don’t they show more of this?

It’s ideal for the old ‘uns, the unemployed, the revising students, the people between shifts at work, travelling Antipodeans, youngsters home early from school, even skiving office wallahs throwing sickies. There’s a huge audience out there.
Why is not enough live county cricket shown on television?
How many times on days off, with an hour or two to spare have I been greeted with repeats of inconsequential football matches, random and incredibly tedious ‘adventure sports’ shows or, God forbid, speedway.

If the person in charge of scheduling on Sky Sports is reading this; please can we have more County Championship on your channels? You’d make a lot of people very happy. And wrench some afternoon viewers away from the ‘other cricket’ on ITV4 too.

The build up to the Ashes continues apace. The release, by Cricket Australia, of their Ashes Tour Party this morning will further add to the already fervent anticipation of the highlight of the summer.

The 10th July will be here before you know it.

Meanwhile, closer to home, with the Mighty Elstow due to begin their season this weekend, some Aussie news of our own. Matt Sampson from Nambor, Queensland has taken time out of his world tour to turn out for us at The Warren this summer.

Matt is a big hitting, fast bowling allrounder, who among other things, is a dead ringer for a young Andrew Sachs.

We’re still working on his nickname. Matty or Matto? Sammo or Delilah? Manuel maybe? Either way here’s to a great summer of cricket and lots of Caaaaaaallld Ones.

Welcome to England Matt. Good on yer.

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The pictures are a cryptic clue to remind any oblivious Englishman or woman reading this what day it is today.

Have a momentous day.

“There is a forgotten, nay almost forbidden word, which means more to me than any other. That word is England”
Winston Churchill

Following on from last week’s riotously successful Monday’s Big Question, where I asked you to name your favourite plait/platt (before seamlessly and in the same breath answering it for you); a precedence has been set. We move on to this week’s head-scratchingly searching examination.

Who is your favourite associate nations cricketer?

I know, I know. It’s something you’ve given a lot of thought to down the years. That question again: Who is your favourite associate nations cricketer?

Still stuck. Here’s some leading contenders.

Andre Leslie of Germany. A likeable German leader.

Hamid Hossan of Afghanistan. The Nangarhari Jack Brooks.

Dwayne Leverock of Bermuda. In Bumble’s immortal words, “Goooo on the big lad!”

Alan Lewis of Ireland. Used to play cricket for Ireland, now just annoys everyone as an international rugby referee.

Dotun Olatunji of Nigeria (No picture available, sadly.). The Lagos Lara.

Then there’s this man:

Ryan Ten Doeschate.

Currently plying his trade in the IPL for Kolkata Knight Riders, the Port Elizabeth-born Dutchman is a sensational cricketer. Pyrotechnically wonderful, his big hitting and quick bowling has endeared Tendo to fans all over the world. As if this wasn’t enough, Ten Doeschate has just started a sideline as a literary critic. Yes, really.

http://ryantendoeschate.wordpress.com/

Have a peek at the great man’s work. It makes for fascinating reading. Indeed, as with DWC, it’s WordPress, so you can follow his blog by clicking the bottom right corner of the screen when given the option to (Do the same with DWC if you haven’t already. Thanks!).

What a player. What a critic. What a guy. And right there, surely, is the answer to this edition of Monday’s Big Question. Have a splendid week.

If yesterday’s ‘travelling moment’ was a touch contrived for the purists, here’s something a little more authentic.

This was taken on a Sunday afternoon in January at Cottesloe Beach in Perth, Western Australia. In a bar. On the sea front. You can imagine the rest.

You’re undoubtedly correct.

I am nursing a Caaaaaaaaaalld One and supposedly contemplating the meaning of life. I am, however, probably ogling the bunch of splendid barmaids, deep in the moment, oblivious to the fact that months later people all over the Internet will be laughing at how hucking fuge my nose is.

China, my old mucker and co-campaigner of the sorties to Sri Lanka and Australia sent me this, along with some other shots from my time in the lucky country and a typically entertaining piece of correspondence. Salisbury’s finest is off to Columbia tomorrow to begin his four month South American adventure and to meet his future wife.

Buena suerte y buen viaje mi amigo.

They’re known as ‘travelling moments’. Those special parts of a journey or a holiday that enliven the senses, instantly opening a new box file in a part of your brain that will only ever passingly be re-opened by a sniff, sound or sight of something reminiscent of the original moment.
These typically include the first glimpse of a renowned landmark or a sunset somewhere, the sound of haunting tranquility or the hustle and bustle or, yes, maybe even the unmistakeable smell of those Tuareg campfires.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1ksngBjmWA

I don’t whether you’re meant to get this at home, does it count? I reckon I experienced something approaching a ‘travelling moment’ earlier today.

An early errand in the delightful April morning. The last throes of an endless winter are evident in the chill breeze and on the conquered frosted roofs of the passing cars. Meanwhile, the sun blazes defiantly, ushering in the belated season upon the tardy woodland and rolling brown frustration of farmers’ fields.
The commuter-less roads are on half-day as the exec cars sweep past. Foreign lorries mope along on, belching fumes haplessly while the middle lane is pockmarked by patchy pilots on their bi-annual weekend use of the big road.

Job done, I’m sallying back to base. As an early Blur album rambles to its murmured conclusion, my mind is invigorated by thoughts of a handsome omelette and the huge pot of black coffee that I’ll never get round to luxuriate in. From the depths of this relaxation comes the sound of a soaring synthesiser which in turn is joined by organ, bass guitar and drums.
Galvanised by this unfolding musical brilliance, my senses heighten, my right foot gets heavier and my beloved old Golf matches Rog’s vocals by cranking into life and giving it the big one down the fifth-full motorway.

A ‘travelling moment’ with little travelled. There’s not much that can match the exhilaration of a sunny spring morning in dear old Blighty.

A call from Kiwi Geoff yesterday afternoon. “Hello mate. I’ve just got the club a sponsored pie warmer.”

I nearly dropped the phone.

He’d done it again. When the far-sighted Kiwi Geoff pitched up in the late summer of 2006 little did we know how seismic the great man’s impact would be on Elstow Cricket Club. Not for us a wailing, soothsaying, messianic figure, heavy of Biblical beard, Puritanical robes brandishing scorching scriptures. Instead a mild mannered, bespectacled genial chap in accountancy slacks and sweater, a laid back exterior belying a fiercely driven character and someone who continues to give his all. This, here, is the very vision of the thinking man’s visionary.

That the club are in the great shape we are is mainly down to Geoff. He has done more than anyone else to advance the cause of Elstow CC. The youth structure he put in place continues to pay great dividends, from the tiniest tots starting out on their life’s cricket adventures to the talented teens starting out in first team cricket who will be this generation’s Matt Stevens and Dave Riddle. Through his tireless fundraising we have a terrific nets facility well used by the club and community and an AstroTurf pitch for our junior cricketers. Thanks to Geoff the club have attained ECB Club Mark status, as well as heaps of new equipment and loads of other stuff besides.

But this tops the lot.

A pie warmer, yesterday.

Legacy, certainly in a sporting sense, has been oft discussed in this country since last Autumn. While the politicians and activists continue to use the topic for political gain, less than a year on from the Olympic Summer it is far too early, surely, to properly quantify this. At The Warren, however, we are already benefitting from the legacy of our visionary.

The Elstow Pie Emporium will be open for business soon. The start of our season is just over a week away. Dear reader, I implore you, if you haven’t already made the journey to Bedfordshire to enjoy an afternoon’s cricket with us, please do so. The cricket may not be up to much, but you’re guaranteed your welcome will be as warm as our pies.

Three weeks on and I haven’t yet got round to compiling that Roll of Honour from my travels yet. This may still happen. One of the trip’s heroes was undoubtedly Professional Yorkshireman Gareth. I’m very grateful to this gentleman for, among other things, putting me up for a few days, shouting me brews, giving me lifts (via Barney, another top bloke) re-tweeting some of my blog posts, sneaking Roast Beef & Yorkshire Pudding parcels out of the Press Lunch Room and for introducing me to one of the principal characters of Miles Jupp’s Fibber In The Heat*.

Stout fellow that he is, Gareth’s generosity doesn’t just stretch to Backpackers-battered travellers. He has signed up to run the Leeds Half Marathon on 12th May. Gareth will be running for Marie Curie Cancer Care. Earlier this year Gareth raised loads of money for Cancer Research by giving up beer for a month in January. Having survived that Herculean task, he is looking to do similarly great work once again.

Sprinting around the roads of his beloved Garden City will probably be motivation enough for Gareth, but, what will spur him on to an even faster time will be the difference he’ll be making to this important charity. Please help Gareth and Marie Curie Cancer Care by clicking the link below.

http://www.justgiving.com/garethcopleystourofleeds/eurl.axd/9154f7cd23376a4dbb25c91c4e9fb76d

Your generosity will be hugely appreciated. Good on yer!

Tha knows.**

*A real tour-de-force of travel writing, especially cricket based travel writing. Highly recommended.
**For your kindness, here’s the man who helped inspire a legend;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0X0222Iwhk

For those of you who’ve bothered to check the big result from last night, it follows here. I’ll be honest, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.

Blue Square Premier League: Luton Town 2 Newport County 2

Relief for me, but for my promotion chasing friend Welsh Andy, frustration. It was about to get worse for our man though. For, back across in his homeland, a diabolical happening was unfolding at the Cardiff City Stadium. There’s little in life as parochial as Welsh football. There’s no love lost between any of the traditional sides but the others (Newport County, Swansea and Wrexham) are united unequivocally in their hatred of the team from the capital.

Real hatred. We’re talking Montagues and Capulets, Judean People’s Front and the People’s Front of Judea, Smiley and Karla. That sort of hatred.

Last night, that team from the capital, Cardiff City won promotion from the Npower Football Championship to the Barclays Premier League. This means, for the first time in over fifty years, top flight football will be played in Cardiff.

I probed my mate for his reaction this morning. His text message, quoted verbatim, gives you an insight into the level of hostility I mean.

“I’m entering therapy as we speak!!!!! Hundreds of Blues, or Reds, or Dragons, or whatever ghastly manifestation they’ve mutated into are coming out of the woodwork!!! Damn them all the way to Merthyr Tydfil I say!!! Praying that their thugs appear at every ground next season, tear the place apart, and get themselves relegated to the Newport and District Amateur League.

I think I’ve said enough!!!

Last night’s result was pleasing as it gave pride all round my friend. Neil (Another name for County’s striker Chris Jolley, Ed.) is hitting form at just the right time. Please, please let us go up- it would wipe away the pain caused by those arrogant muddy funsters (Ok, I’ve paraphrased a little there, Ed.) from the wrong side of the M4!!!!”

Nothing does astringent bitterness as sublimely or as beautifully as a Welshman with the right hump. Close your eyes.

Now imagine Richard Burton (or, for you older readers, David Lloyd George) saying that.

Magnificent.