PAUL EDWARDS distributes his awards for the domestic cricket season which include the silent heroes behind the scenes and a fateful trip to Windsor Park
The future of county cricket must rest in the hands of its ardent following
The details of what has happened in this cricket season are of small account when set against the simple fact that we have had a season at all.
At the time of writing, we do not know which of four teams will win the T20 Blast. There is a chance no side will win a meaningful competition: the weather forecast for Edgbaston is horrendous; on the reserves day it is merely poor. But I do not give a rogue algorithm about the matter. As far as I’m concerned the four teams can go to Stratford and play pooh-sticks on the Avon to decide things. Or they can have a food fight. Maybe we shall all be holed up in Birmingham until Bonfire Night.
I’m not bothered. At least there has been cricket played, quite a lot of it in fact, and much of it was very good indeed. I’ve praised the ECB a lot recently so I won’t bang on about them again. What I’m more concerned about are the junior cricketers who were inspired by Ben Stokes, the Ashes and the World Cup last year, only to see the prospect of there being nothing but nets with dad – or mum – to which they could look forward this summer.
Most of them have now had games. Age-group cricket has been given priority and local leagues, sometimes very local indeed, have continued. We owe a great deal to the amateur officials who arranged fixture lists and the umpires who stood in the matches. And since this weekend marks the end of our revels for six months, let me hand out a few awards. There’s no money and no trophies and no set categories but there is a helluva lot of gratitude and that’ll have to do.
Tom Lammonby has been one of the young players of the year
This was played just a week ago by a batsman whom I thought could show me nothing fresh. Alastair Cook’s 172 against Somerset in the final of the Bob Willis Trophy was not without error, nor could it have been achieved without the cold technique we know of old. Yet, it was also filled with artistry and grace, particularly so in the cover-drives. Heaven help us, the old boy even played an on-drive to the newish ball. Sandwiched between a fine hundred from Eddie Byrom and an even better one by Tom Lammonby, surely the young player of the year, Cook’s century was a lovely reminder of cricket’s capacity to revive our time-served eyes and I’m not sure the first-class season could have ended in a better way.
Matthew Fisher delivered a ripper to Jack Burnham in the second innings of the game at Chester-le-Street and it brought the batsman to his knees. It also removed his middle and leg stumps so Burnham may not agree with my judgement. The very best and most ferocious yorkers do such things. The batsman moves his feet rapidly to leg in a hopeless attempt to jab down on the ball but finds in an instant that he has also lost his balance. So while Burnham’s stumps disappeared rapidly towards Gateshead, he could do nothing but fall over, pick himself up and amble away.
Siri, show me a Yorker pic.twitter.com/flHU4k7JYV
— Peter Miller (@TheCricketGeek) August 3, 2020
Ah, this is a lovely one and there will be no apology for mentioning it again. During Lancashire’s game against Derbyshire at Aigburth (my only outground of the year) Jack Morley, a slow left-armer playing his first game, had Harvey Hosein caught behind by George Lavelle for 84. It should be said that Hosein had batted beautifully for over four hours but my delight stemmed from the fact that this was a classic leftie twirler’s dismissal: dipping, turning, dragging the batsman forward and catching the edge. There are moments when you wonder whether cricket still exercises its old magic upon you. Then you see something like this and there is no doubt.
Here it is a pleasure to salute the county media officers and stewards who have striven mightily in bizarre circumstances to make the lives of journalists and broadcasters as easy as possible. We have filled in our questionnaires and we have had our temperature taken many times yet never have we been greeted with anything but courtesy and an understanding that these are strange days for everyone. To my amazement, I’ve been admitted to every day’s cricket I’ve wanted to see.
That’s very easy, too. On July 11, I travelled to Windsor Park to watch Chorley play Littleborough in a friendly match. It was the first game played on the ground in 2020 and it was also my first sight of cricket in the flesh since the previous September. Over a hundred people turned up and none of us needed to say much about how good it was to be watching the cricket again. It was something we all understood. Many of my beliefs about the English game were wrapped up in that afternoon in Lancashire: its rootedness in locality, its collective spirit, its absence of pomposity. I remember, too, that many other friendly matches were played on the same day. One game, indeed.
Club media officials have helped with access throughout the season
Not really an award but that’s fairly easy, too. No members or paying spectators have been admitted this season and I’ve missed them every day. Amid the tidal wave of hogwash we’ve heard since Covid-19 began, one of the most trivial opinions was that no one would miss a crowd at County Championship games because there was never a crowd anyway. Along with that, came the view that most people were socially distanced at four-day cricket anyway.
Well, you only had to sit in a completely deserted ground to understand how much warmth, atmosphere and love a few thousand people make. At T20 games the difference was more noticeable but not so much as one might think. Fours were struck and almost no one applauded; appeals echoed around the great stadia. If anyone reading this is normally to be found supporting their county clubs, please be assured that you were missed in 2020.
And that’s it. This is the last of these pieces but maybe I’ll be back next year. It is the habit of columnists finishing their final column for a while to say that it seems no time at all since they were writing their first. Such an expression of surprise is not available to me this week. It feels like far more than half a year since I was thinking about old games and old players and facing up to the brute fact that no news was likely to be bad news. We have all learned a great deal. Many thanks for reading and particular gratitude to those who made comments, whatever those comments might have been. I especially enjoyed the observation that my view on a particular matter was “frankly, nonsense”. Thank you, take care, stay safe, and as all cricket folk say to each other at this time of year: Winter Well.
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