This proves that the climate gods should not solely cricket followers, however that they’ve senses of humour, too.
I inform a lie; not *each* yr. The one yr to buck the meteorological pattern was 2020 when cricket, together with every little thing else, was cancelled attributable to a once-in-a-century pandemic.
As I say, extraordinarily humorous climate gods.
The County Championship season began final week and, simply in time, the Baltic climate rolled in. The week earlier than? Superb sunshine and temperatures not simply hitting double figures however roaming tentatively into the 20s. Beautiful scenes. Cricket climate.
Then got here the movies of the various counties’ disgruntled execs rising garbed in an unholy variety of jumpers, thick thermal socks, gloves, and nearly each different sartorial protect towards what was frankly offensively chilly climate.
Durham County Cricket Membership posted a video of their hardy lads coaching in a literal snowstorm. Lancashire, Derbyshire, and Northamptonshire all posted fairly however hardly Barbadian pics of frost-swirled ovals, whereas Kent’s pre-season slip cordon was all bobble hats and cable-knit sweaters.
When our cricketers start to thaw out and the climate begins to perk up, I implore you to go down and absorb some county cricket. It’s magnificent, deliciously archaic, of a genuinely glorious commonplace, and one of the crucial nice methods to spend a lazy, heat afternoon.
A few of my fondest sporting reminiscences come from Previous Trafford (the cricket floor, that’s – I’m not a philistine). From an completely gripping 2019 Cricket World Cup group match between New Zealand and the West Indies, to numerous Lancashire T20 video games, it’s at all times ace.
However one purple rose-tinged sporting reminiscence is particular: a day spent watching nothing a lot occur in a county match between Lancashire and Hampshire.
Below blazing skies, all of us however had the bottom to ourselves, free to wander across the stands with ice-cold pints in hand earlier than ambling by the pavilion breezily, smiling on the historic members of their fits.
At lunch, the bottom employees cordoned off the wicket and allowed us onto the grass for a stroll on hallowed turf. Minutes earlier, Jimmy Anderson had been fielding proper *right here*, we thought earlier than tucking right into a picnic.
It was bliss. Attempt it out.