Not too often I write about cricket. The cricket on the radio in the background can be ok provided the commentators don't start yelling or get overexcited. I find it quite soporific.
My mind switches from a hot Aussie day with everyone trying to find shade while the match is played, to a game on an English village green, with polite clapping and dozing off in the sunshine.
Then there are memories of childhood cricket games in the back yard with so much energy expended and biffing my brother on his scone with a stump.
I had interesting responses when I wrote about my brother going to the Ashes in England earlier this year and various cricket grounds, and in another about Henry Blofeld.
I have recently read that the marvellous Bellerive Oval in Hobart, Tasmania has had night lighting installed, possibly the last of the major cricket grounds to do so. As I noted in a post, it must be in one of the best settings in Australia.
I listened a bit to the cricket in Adelaide yesterday. There was, guessing here, a West Indian commentator. He was amusing, clear speaking and knowledgeable. I did not catch his name. Who was he?
And to throw in a bit of depravity, I think Shane Warne is hot.
This is where I may get things wrong. A month or so ago Sheffield Shield cricket was being played. It is an interstate competition and very few people were going to see it, in spite of tickets costing less than $10. I believe one game at the Melbourne Cricket Ground with its capacity for 100,000 spectators, had less than two thousand.
Full of knowledge about cricket, I have the answer. Forget about charging. Throw open the gates to all and sundry and play these games at friendly local cricket grounds. A Sheffield Shield match played at the glorious Junction Oval might even have me sitting in the Blackie Ironmonger stand. Just give me a nudge if I snore.