A Bat And Ball Game

A life-long cricket fanatic who finds the game a cruel mistress, James Fisher heads to the MCC Academy at Lord’s to brush up on his skills

- 

THE only thing I hate about cricket is that I am unfathomably bad at it. Reader, I am very, truly, Bambion-ice-skates awful. Cricket has often been described as a cruel game; those long hours in the field, getting out first ball, bowling for 15 overs for absolutely no reward—these are just a few of the many mental and physical horrors that can occur on the pitch.

However, for me, cricket’s greatest trick, its most cruel joke, is that I spend almost every waking hour reading, watching, listening to and playing the game—yet despite my intense passion, I am still terrible. Like the most deranged of scorned lovers, I keep coming back, knowing that the great willowand-leather scorpion is guaranteed to sting me in the face yet again. I don’t really bat, I can’t really bowl and my fielding is dubious at best. I can sledge, I suppose, but then it’s difficult for the batsmen to hear you when you’ve been stuck on the boundary to minimise the damage your ineptitude might inflict upon the scoreboard.