For the Love of (Finals) Cricket

GH on the allure of finals cricket.

Perhaps some of you were playing in or, as I was, watching their club in finals at the weekend. Good news is that we at the Yarras have two teams through to grand finals next weekend. Good news also from John McEncroe, a reader of Cricket Et Al, who will be playing in his first grand final for Main Ridge CC on the Mornington Peninsula, and who has emailed me a wonderfully flavoursome account of the Cougars’ C3 Grade semi-final against Sorrento at the weekend, which he’s generously allowed me to quote. Turns out that John and I are the same age, and of very similar dispositions where our cricket is concerned.

A recent run of low scores, poor decision-making, decades-old technical deficiencies and loss of confidence had delivered me to training on Tuesday night (only the second such occurrence this season what with work, travel etc), in an attempt to arrest the slide and formulate some sort of plan to stick around for more than 3 balls.

Advice was sought and freely given. A few observations and adjustments made, and a simple plan developed in my mind. At least I had a plan. And that made me less anxious.

It may sound odd that at 58 in C3 Grade that anxiety is a factor. But it has always been the case with me. I relive the last dismissal until about Wednesday and then start worrying about the next one.

I had begun to think it may be time to hang em up. Wondering if it is all worth it. After all, a man has got to know his limitations.

But I love it.

Ah, John, I hear you. In one of his books, my friend Martin Flanagan sought to describe himself in his athletic youth: ‘What kind of footballer was I? Scared, mostly.’ I have never been scared exactly, and I dare say John hasn’t been either, but nobody at all serious about cricket goes without some performance anxiety, so integral to the game is the psychic wound of dismissal. And at a certain age, the accumulated scar tissue becomes hard to ignore. It was during a grand final some years ago I got as close as I ever have to quitting. Having spent a week building myself into a state approximating readiness, I got out first ball in the first over of our innings, and watched us getting smashed all over the park. I sat in my dressing room corner afterwards wondering what I was doing to myself every week, composing my retirement speech. Next day, I got runs, took wickets and we almost burgled a win. Retirement was staved off, and remains so. Anyway, John continues:

So yesterday was a gorgeous day. An early visit to the supermarket to buy a dozen eggs, two loaves of fresh white bread and some ibuprofen meant that curried egg sandwiches were sorted for Tea, and that I had sufficient ibuprofen in my system to render a nose-bleed potentially fatal.

I had my two younger sons in the team with me (aged 25 and 22) which, if I'm honest, is both an absolute delight and an extra layer of pressure not to under perform.

The ground was the colour of hummus dip with the synthetic grass pitch the only green to be seen. Lightning quick.

We were up against Sorrento which, fairly or unfairly, is a club that every cricket and footy team wants to beat - the Collingwood of local sport.

An incorrect call at the toss by the Sorrento skip had us batting first.

We made 280 in our 40 overs (and I and my 25yo son both made runs).

We extracted a few early wickets and from 3/28 after 10 overs Sorrento were always going to struggle. My son removed the openers and I mopped up the tail.

We prevailed and so, at the age of 58, I will be playing my first ever GF next weekend (against Mt Martha).

I was reading your piece this morning, nursing an aching back and sore knees. This time last week I was wondering why I do it and was it all worth it. Having toiled all day in 38 degrees last Saturday I was physically and emotionally exhausted.

If I had dedicated as much time to any other pursuit as I have to cricket I'd be an expert at it. Music, literature, science, surfing, gardening, cooking.....I could have my own YouTube channel.

But cricket? I just love it I guess.

I hesitate to tell John this but I played eight grand finals at the Yarras before I won one. Then again, what a day. The finals medal hangs on the back of my door; the photo of my premiership side sits above the doorway. In advance, I had reconciled myself to never winning a flag. It was fine, I told myself - I had loved my cricket, enjoyed the community and companionship, would not have changed anything. Afterwards, I realised, I had been wrong about that: winning a trophy with my friends was even better than I could ever have imagined. A few days later I was walking into town thinking through the events of that game, and tears formed in my eyes.

The experience affected the way I interpreted cricket too. I had always been critical of those top-level players who, though heavy with honours, ‘stayed too long.’ But, as I could now see, of course they did; they were holding out for that one more win, that set of memories to go with it. What does retirement offer? A restful blankness? In many ways, I have been staying too long - like John, at 58, I contemplate how else I might have allocated to other things the cricket time of my life. But as one premiership medallist to one prospective, John, take it from me that it’s worth it. And good luck to all of you out there this weekend in search of a flag.