The Lords Who Flock To Lord's

In the early 2000s, the turf of the world's most storied cricket ground was set to be replaced.

- ANAND VASU

In the early 2000s, the turf of the world's most storied cricket ground was set to be replaced. Those running the show at Lord's realised this was not simply a maintenance task, as it might be at any other venue. This turf, rarely referred to without being called 'hallowed', was special not only to those who scripted sporting history on it. Generations grew up tuning into radios to listen to stories of this ground—this mystical place in the middle of London, steeped in history and seemingly in no hurry to acknowledge the present or contemplate the future.

So, the smart move was to sell the turf. Some people bought a square foot of soil and turf so that they could be close to cricketing divinity in their backyards. Others had big slabs encased in glass as tabletops in boardrooms. The less wealthy, such as itinerant cricket writers, settled for a small sphere that could sit on a desk as a daily reminder of sporting mystique.

If you grew up a cricket nut, especially in one of the British colonies, it was difficult to have a neutral view of Lord's. You were constantly told it was exclusive, not for everyone. You were reminded that scoring a 100 or picking up five wickets to get your name on the honours board there meant more than achieving exactly the same feat on any other ground. You came to believe, even with no real proof, that Lord's was special.