Humbug's Blog - Pieterson Free Zone

Humbug's Blog - Pieterson Free Zone

The Mobinator

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I recently saw a friend of mine who has two small boys. The youngest has just started nursery and is playing up. She has great problems getting his coat on, he cries in the car and shuffles reluctantly into the venue, once there, he is perfectly happy playing with his pens and winkle. I thought ‘scary, but this is me going to cricket’, the parallels are startling.

If Shakespeare believed ‘there is something rotten in the state of Denmark’, I can sympathise. It is a conundrum that we have built a beautiful club with an excellent clubhouse, wicket, outfield and teas to meet the needs of even the most voracious appetites. And yet our membership continues to wilt faster than roadside roses. Of course, all clubs face the problem of members moving away, retiring, getting injured or colts discovering that girls are much more fun and there is little room for both. Sadly no one has any ideas as to how to arrest this erosion. We put our faith in our colts grow your own policy. So far, George, Ross, Joe and Henry are notable graduates. Scott was schooled early by his father and Sundays are now boasting the youthful James Caliss and Mathew Wadsworth as regulars. Maybe I shouldn’t be so pessimistic, but when we could barely raise one side against Amersham Hill when the 2XI had no fixture, there is plenty to worry about. Of course Saturday might have been less painful had Scott not visited Cheesy Chicken in Slough for a plate of salmonella and chips.

Sunday against Holyport was a great way to spend a balmy summer afternoon. The Mobinator forgave my Saturday report and made me a cup of surprisingly hot strong tea and I trusted him not to spike it by way of revenge, but he is too nice a chap for that.  The enigma that is Steve was taking his locum tea making duties very seriously, obsessing about switching on the oven and whether his flat-jacks could match Val’s banana cake. I really have to thank the Mobinator for this month’s copy, Saturday against Braywood, played in Royal Windsor’s Great Park, the Mobinator got lost. He spent so much time driving round Berkshire trying to find us that he had to be rescued from Loch Fyne, two hours late. It is a dubious rumour that he had stopped for a snack as he hadn’t eaten for a couple of hours. Clearly rejuvenated, his sole contribution was a first ball duck, ironically. I could imagine generations of Kings hunting in that park, sadly there were no wild boar sandwiches and no hot tea.

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