On International Day of Happiness, we asked our team of writers to explain what makes them happiest about our great game. Here's what they had to say...
Happiness in cricket - for me - is a fast late outswinger which pitches on off stump, arcs away from the batsman’s expectant prod, whips past his edge and soars into the keeper’s gloves chest high, 20 yards back.
It's a beautiful sensation, the pace and movement generated not by bat or racket or club but solely from the rhythm of the run-up and the slickly co-ordnated biomechanics of the body.
It doesn’t even matter if it doesn’t get a wicket. The feeling of power is enough to provide deep satisfaction. However as I haven’t achieved this for over two decades - and even then only fleetingly - I have to just enjoy its production from other practitioners.
March 20 is also the first day of spring – the new season really is fast approaching now. Time to scan The Cricketer fixtures wallchart. Going into the garden shed and sorting your kit out on the grass, which is finally dry.
The first trip of the summer to The Oval, my local county. Watching the present crop of stars, then exploring the pavilion – so much rich history.
Taking pride in the cricketing development of your offspring.
Playing for your club when the group is a great crew.
Visiting new and attractive grounds – who is going to Newport, Isle of Wight (Hampshire v Notts from May 20–23), or Wellbeck Colliery (Notts v Hampshire, June 9–12) this year?
The anticipation of this summer’s World Cup, and Ashes.
Becoming absorbed in a riveting passage of play on television.
A spell by a skilful bowler like James Anderson, when he is probing a batsman’s weaknesses; or when a quick is straining for every ounce of pace (Wahab Riaz v Shane Watson at the 2015 World Cup immediately springs to mind); or a brilliant spinner like Rashid Khan going through his repertoire. Watching a batsman like Joe Root eschew slogging and find the boundary through classic strokeplay, as he did in the second T20I in West Indies.
The simple camaraderie that comes with playing a game of club cricket.
Standing out in a grass field with 10 other people and knowing we all share a common love of it – though I sometimes wonder about our grumpy fast bowler or the reluctant teenager – and that nothing much else matters until we come off the field at the end of the innings. Call it refuge from all the important things in life.
The stark reality is that most people I know either don’t understand, and a few even actively dislike, cricket. That’s hugely frustrating, and a barrier to the game flourishing. But in a way it does make it all the more special for the lucky ones of us that do.
International Day of Happiness is celebrated on March 20
At a grass roots level, community. My team back home in Wiltshire has been a little bit of everything to its members down the years - an emotional crutch, a source of inspiration, a hangover miracle cure, a drinking companion, a crowdfunding initiative, a close friend - and its 100 or so members are all the richer for it.
We've muscled through bereavement, raised thousands for charity, hosted huge parties for the entire village, engaged local schoolchildren, provided solace for those down in the dumps and given each other a reason to get to the end of a working week when we need it most.
Cricket requires so much of its community at village level, and when that community steps up to the challenge it is a most remarkable sight.
At a professional level, the anticipation before the first ball of a day's play. This is true at any ground and in any form of the sport, but particularly so at Lord's on the first morning of a Test, with the soothing background hum and ritualistic popping of corks on the strike of 11 providing a happy underscore.
No entity survives many hundreds of years without a tinge of the unknown.
Cricket's multiple variables make it a unique spectacle almost every time you play, attend, switch on, tune in, stream or follow; whether it be in your back garden or via ball-by-ball commentary.
A bunsen burner, a green top, a road or a sticky wicket; a run-fest, a bowlers' paradise or turning square; wicket-to-wicket, swing or spin. A five-day washout or slip-slop-slap.
It is the chasms between these dynamics which make the sport captivating, unpredictable and frustrating in equal measure. And few would change it for the world.
The first leave of the season. There’s something so beautiful in its simplicity.
Once all the build-up is done and dusted, all that’s left is for the cricket to get underway. In trundles the bowler, searching for that corridor of uncertainty. The batsman judges the line and length, there’s a minor shuffle toward the ball before the shoulders ascend and the bat is held aloft.
The gleaming Dukes cherry whistles through to the keeper’s gloves and summer has begun. Happy days.
What makes you happiest about cricket? Tweet us @TheCricketerMag
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