The Criggit
The Summer of Cricket has begun in Australia and it's almost over for the English
Follow Stadium Obsessive on Instagram and Facebook for more football tales
Grab your Stadium Obsessive merch from Sidekick on Etsy
As an Aussie, I obviously couldn’t not have a word about the cricket - so lets just get this out of the way first:
Bairstow was definitely out (but I accept that Starc’s catch the day before was definitely not out, even though he didn’t drop it - so we’re even)
Stuart Broad is still and always will be a shit bloke (but damn is he charming)
So is David Warner, without the charm
Watching clips of ex-England greats slating the current team has been giving me life
Sandpapergate was a national embarrassment and Steve Smith shouldn’t ever be captain, even temporarily - but he got Jofra gooooood.
Right then. On with the show.
A lifetime of the old bat & ball
I grew up in a family that was passionate about cricket. Well, my dad thought it was shithouse actually - but mum’s side all love it. We were always playing the backyard version of the game at family gatherings, and I got to play competitively with a few of my cousins at various stages too. It all stemmed from my mum’s parents though - and we had one of those family stories that will be passed down the generations for many years to come.
It was 2nd November 1931 - Blackheath vs Lithgow Pottery, played at Blackheath Oval in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney. My pop, Alf Reynolds, was playing for Lithgow and the hosts had invited a couple of players from the NSW State team to play for them.
As the story goes, Lithgow had Blackheath panicking at 2/5 before one Donald Bradman, one of the NSW loanees, strolled out to the crease - and hit the fastest century in history. Three 8-ball overs later, Sir Donald got his 100, and went on to score 256 - at that point, he popped one up in the air and Alf, positioned at mid off, caught out the best batsman to ever play the game. Bradman later caught and bowled Alf in the second innings, just for a bit of payback.

I played myself - never with quite the same claims to fame, although Mitchell Starc played for the same club as me (Berala Sports). He was a few years younger than me which was probably lucky, because he might have stolen my thunder.
From the age of about 12 to 17, I was the most dominant fast bowler in the competition. Best figures of 6/12 and I took over 30 wickets in 2 separate 10-game seasons. I loved nothing more than seeing the stumps obliterated and off-cutters and yorkers were my specialty.
The skill kinda stopped there - I was pretty crap with the bat. My highest score, for at least the first 3 or 4 seasons I played, was 3. I took a leaf out of Bradman’s book one summer and hit a ball against a wall for about 3 weeks straight, returning after the holidays to a career high knock of 44. I remember scoring 40 on at least one other occasion, and a quickfire 20 not out in a grand final which we won, but bowling was really where I took the biscuits.

I tried out for the NSW Under 19’s when I was 16 years old - I’d love to see who actually made the team that year, to see if any of them went on to play for Australia, but it definitely wasn’t me. I discovered punk rock, girls and booze and stopped playing pretty soon after that.
I remember going to state league one-day matches - the glory days of the Mercantile Mutual Cup, when players could win money by hitting the sponsors signage on the full, Toyota logos peppered fan banners throughout the grounds due to some sort of competition (did anyone actually win anything, or did everyone just give the motor company free advertising?).
Players like Richard Chee Quee, Greg Matthews and a young Brett Lee would be signing autographs on the boundaries. The Sydney Cricket Ground was the main stadium, but games were taken to the suburbs too. North Sydney Oval with its cream coloured picket fence and giant Moreton Bay fig tree, and Bankstown Oval where we’d get pizza from across the road and offer it to the players in the outfield (again, Brett Lee, who politely declined).

I couldn’t tell you what happened a year ago in the world of cricket, but I distinctly remember Michael Bevan hitting a four off the last ball to beat the West Indies in a one day international, Shoaib Akhtar and Wasim Akram blowing minds and stumps with their pace, Shane Warne and Glenn McGrath being our heroes and mimicking their bowling styles in the backyard. Even the commentators were iconic, with Billy Birmingham, AKA the 12th Man, taking them from household names to legendary status - in fact, the 12th Man was the only bit about cricket my dad liked and I’ve got fond memories of him pissing himself laughing while at the wheel on long drives down the South Coast.
Very politically incorrect - a sign of it’s times - but the most nostalgic thing to listen to for Aussies of a certain age.
Tantrums, egos and advertisements- Falling out of love with the game
Maybe it was because I was a kid, but I didn’t notice the level of ego that came with being a professional cricketer. As I grew older I started to notice just how much of a fuckwit some people had to be to be picked for the Australian cricket team.
After those glory years of the 90s and early 2000s finished, the new batch of players were coming through. I don’t know if they grew up hearing about the characters like Warnie and David Boon and thought they could act like them before they earned the plaudits - but some players acted like they had a divine right to be the best in the world, just because they wore the baggy green.
Rather than memories of hat tricks and winning test matches in style, I have memories of Shane Watson screaming like a banshee after taking Chris Gayle’s wicket, and Michael Clarke talking about breaking an England players arm. They were good players, but not exactly endearing. Add to this, the emergence of a new crop of commentators that brought a more blokey, matey, slap on the back boys club mentality that Richie Benaud would have been utterly embarrassed by, and the incessant advertising plastered all over the game (which has only gotten worse) - it made it easy to stop watching altogether.
Since the Sandpaper incident (which was maybe symbolic of the ego balloon bursting), I’ve got a lot more respect for the current team who are much more reserved and, to quote Jurgen Klopp, they are mentality monsters. The calmness with which they win games and trophies is remarkable - the most recent example being Travis Head’s seemingly simple century to win the first test in Perth, and Steve Smith’s confident (okay, cocky) handling of Jofra Archer in the final innings in Brisbane.
In any case, the Australian team had lost me and I only returned to the game for the Ashes - but had otherwise been turned off the game completely.
Until I moved to England, of course…
The Home of Cricket
Lords is one of those places that cricket fans want to visit no matter the occasion. For cricket, it’s the Wembley, the Wimbledon, the shit, the tits, the ducks nuts - the pinnacle of the sport and where it all began.
The first time I visited London in 2009 I dragged my friends along just to see the outside of the ground at St John’s Wood. It’s not far from the famous Abbey Road pedestrian crossing, and also close to Park Road, Regents Park (which shares the name of the road I grew up on in Sydney). I’ve talked at length about the difference between a stadium on match day versus non-match day, but it still holds an aura and a history that is unrivalled in the sport.
In 2016, I was back for a European trip where I went to as much football as possible - but made sure that I went and did the full tour of Lords. The Long Room, the museum, the media centre and the famous sloped ground - the tour took us through all the places we dream of as cricket fans, where we could walk in the steps of our heroes.
Finally, in 2017 - I moved to England. This presented the opportunity to finally visit Lords as a spectator and I’ve been a few times now. A couple of Blast and Hundred games, a women’s T20 between Australia and England which was a brilliant last over win by the hosts - and you might remember a little test match a few years ago where one Jonny Bairstow was controversially stumped…
So I was at Lords the day before that happened. Going to the Ashes at Lords was bucket list stuff for me so whatever happened was never going to disappoint, and I was chuffed to be able to tick it off. Nathan Lyon batted with a torn calf, and Mitchell Starc did take a catch in the outfield (right in front of where I was sitting) which was deemed not out because he dragged the ball along the ground and, by the laws of the game, this is a drop - and I accept that. As disappointing as it was at the time, it’s fair enough. It was one of those things that would have been talked about for much longer if not for the Bairstow incident the following day - yet still a day of memories for me to take away for the rest of my life.
Enjoy the summer
So we all know that England’s team this year are in the news for all the wrong reasons, but all Aussie fans will be wanting a more competitive series from here on (though we obviously still want to win 5-0). Will Jofra bowl full pelt from the start in Adelaide? Will Lyon make his return? Will Uzman Khawaja get his fairytale send off in Sydney? Will England give Bazball the flick and actually give us a run for our money?
Every time the Ashes is played, there are new stories being written regardless of the form of the teams. The emotions run high, the banter is plentiful, and ultimately the relationship between the two teams remains despite all that. Most Aussies were happy for Joe Root to score his first century in Australia - as long as England didn’t win because of it. Most England fans would recognise just how good Starc’s form is at the moment. It’s a rivalry with equal parts dislike and respect.
For me - I won’t get to the Ashes this time but I will tick off the MCG for a Big Bash game as I visit Australia for the first time in 2 years. The MCG is Australia’s home of the sport and seats about 7 bazillion people, so as a stadium nerd, I can’t wait to see it. I’ll be keenly watching the rest of the Ashes, and in pretty sociable hours when I’m overseas, and possibly gloating to my English pals about the heat too.
So enjoy it while it lasts, because you only get so many Ashes series’ in a lifetime - and you never know what’s around the corner.






