A gentleman’s love for stick and ball is understood.
In the case of cricket, it’s sublime.
Is it that cricket is quintessentially social? Is it that it’s played in those heavenly late spring and early autumn months? Or is it simply the pastoral quality of the game which reminds us of gentler, less complex and safer times?
It’s all of these and more.
Cricket is philosophical, Arcadian, unhurried. It’s agreeable and idyllic. It offers second chances. It smiles wickedly at the self-assured and awakes the contented from barely-concealed slumber. It levels. Cricket envelopes you in its magic.
For those less discerning and accustomed to today’s pre-packaged, pressure-cooker entertainments, cricket is foreign.
And yet, quietly, humbly, it continues it’s 400 year legacy.
Seek out a game. Take a picnic hamper and a friend.
Have the game as a picturesque backdrop and read a good book. Drink chilled champagne.
And when the occasional crack of leather on willow reminds you where you are, know that you are in the halcyon days of your life.
Enjoy your culture.