Take me out to the ball game you silly midwicket
Finally a version of cricket that busy people like us can appreciate. Keep your tea in the pot and stuff your googly upyour bum. :snooty:
http://www.nytimes.com/2003/06/27/international/europe/27CRIC.html
Cricket for Our Time: It’s Highly Condensed
By SARAH LYALL
ONDON, June 26 — Fiona Boddy believes herself to be a woman of unusual patience. Yet, years after the fact, she still remembers the paint-drying tedium of the cricket match she attended in which nothing appeared to happen for hours on end.
Cricket lovers acclaimed the day of play — part of a match that lasted five days and ended in a draw — as a masterly example of the sport at its tactical best (even with the breaks for rain), but not Ms. Boddy, 30, a public relations executive.
“I just sat there all day, and it was the most excruciating thing ever,” she said.
It was the promise of nonexcruciating cricket that brought Ms. Boddy and several thousand others to Richmond, West London, last week to watch the Middlesex Crusaders play the Kent Spitfires in a new, speeded-up kind of cricket that organizers hope will give this quintessentially old-fashioned sport a jolt of 21st-century excitement.
The new game, a shorter, snazzier version of traditional cricket (motto: “Twice the action, half the time!”), is being played in a monthlong tournament this summer by England’s 18 professional teams. While organizers are already praising its potential for attracting the disaffected masses, purists — and there are still many left — are horrified at what they consider the defilement of a sacred tradition.
“It’s sad to contemplate what’s happening,” said David Frith, former editor of the Wisden Cricket Monthly. “Cricket is meant to attract people who are said to be dreamy and poetic, liking the subtleties and depth of the game, but this is attracting people on the fringe who want something else.”
In the new version, the length of play has been drastically reduced, to a mere three hours, with strict limits on many times the ball can be thrown, or bowled, at the batters, who are known as batsmen. Players wait in baseball-style dugouts instead of lolling about in the nearby cricket pavilion and are required to jog, not amble, into position.
Some teams are luring spectators with clowns, pop singers, face-painting booths and even Jacuzzis; at the Middlesex game, thwarted batters were sent off, scandalously, to the strains of Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.”
“This is not decent cricket; it’s smash-grab cricket,” said Roger Jay, feeling increasingly dismayed as the game went on.
In 75 years as a cricket fan (he is 83), Mr. Jay has already weathered numerous destabilizing changes. First, there was the horror of one-day cricket, introduced in the early 1970’s as an acknowledgment that the traditional five-day international match, while still the Platonic ideal, was not practical (or even, strictly speaking, enjoyable) for most people.
Then there was the decision to replace classic cricket whites with colored uniforms for some games, a radical development Mr. Jay still derides as “pajama cricket.”
Cricket, which appears to resemble baseball but actually doesn’t, is undeniably an acquired taste. Its terminology is eccentric — the people standing in the field, for instance, are known by names like “fine leg” and “silly mid-off” — and its customs are taxing to the average sports fan. For instance, a batsman can bat for hours, sometimes scoring more than a hundred runs, sometimes scoring no runs at all. A match can last for five days, with one team scoring dozens more times than the other, and still end in a draw.
“You have to love the game to be able to stand it at all,” said Vasant Bhatt, 46, a florist in London, watching the Middlesex game.
In a recent survey, the England and Wales Cricket Board found that only 500,000 people here regularly go to cricket games. From 1997 to 2001, total attendance in county cricket matches declined by 17 percent, to 1,030,000. Last year, the shortest county match lasted a long time: 6 hours and 10 minutes.
“The whole theory was to offer a cricket product that people could come and watch who didn’t want to watch a 6-hour-10-minute game,” said Mark Hodgson, a spokesman for the cricket board. “We’ve condensed it into a shorter and more action-packed game, and hopefully some people will come along who haven’t wanted to come before.”
So far, so good. According to Vinny Codrington, chief executive of the Middlesex team, the take at the box office is generally about £2,000 — about $3,300 — for regular games. For the new, souped-up version, receipts were £20,000, not counting food and merchandise sales inside the gates.
Young women came, and so did young children, two groups that cricket is desperate to attract.
Even non-fans were hooked.
Karl Burgess, 34, is the sort of person, he said, who believes that “the best way to be involved with cricket is to flick the radio on every now and then and check the score.” Yet he loves the game, admires (in the abstract) its character-building tendency to delay gratification and came with his father and a friend to check out the new version.
Eating his packet of potato chips and drinking his pint of lager, he said he was greatly enjoying revved-up cricket, even when things looked pretty slow, at least to the untrained eye.
“You have to talk in degrees of excitement,” he said. “In cricket terms, this is exciting.”