FIRST OF THE SUMMER WINE

That cricket and wine have a lot in common is something that is not often appreciated.

But to me at least, the similarities are striking. Because whether we’re talking cricket balls or grapes on the vine, my preference is always for red over white, and both these two pleasures are, to my mind, ones that, rather than being rushed, ought instead to be savoured over time.

Furthermore, just as I know very little about what goes into producing a vintage of distinction and am liable therefore to rely on how much I’m taken by the label before selecting the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on which it is attached, so too my choice of cricket team tends to depend on whether or not the players’ shirts have emblazoned upon them, a maroon coloured dragon that identifies as a wyvern!

And, just as every bottle of wine need not be a Romanée-Conti 1945 in order for it to be relished, not every day at the cricket needs to include a sumptuous Tom Lammonby century, or a full bodied ‘fifer’ from Kasey Aldridge, before it can be a day that one can truly delight in.

But whilst it’s been a long, long time since I overindulged on the red stuff, it remains the case that I am not infrequently intoxicated by cricket!

It was Charles Baudelaire (1821 – 1867) who once wrote:

“You have to be always drunk. That’s all there is to it – it’s the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.

But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk”

I know this because, some years ago, a particularly cultured patient of mine who played Jazz professionally and once performed with Acker Bilk, quoted the above to me in the original French! Which you have to admit is pretty cool!

Baudelaire’s poem goes on:

And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: “It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.”

I suspect many of us will know what it is to have woken this week, ‘in the mournful solitude’ that comes as a consequence of having had the cold water of world events thrown in our face once more.

Baudelaire suggests to us that to avoid being the ‘martyred slaves of time’ the only way is to be intoxicated by something good that consumes us.

And whilst it is not by a long way the most important thing in my life, comforted as I am by greater truths that continue to endure under even the darkest clouds, cricket is, for me, something with which I like to fill my metaphorical hip flask, before proceeding to sip from it regularly throughout the summer months.

And so it was that I arrived at the county ground in Taunton this morning, giddy with excitement at the prospect of what was my first day of live cricket this year.

In much the same way that a bottle of wine ought to be opened a while before one intends to drink it, I like to arrive at the ground early and walk a few times around the ground, just as one might swirl the contents of a glass before imbibing. And then, just as a connoisseur takes a little time to revel in the wine’s colour and aroma, delaying gratification until, at last taking that much anticipated initial sip, so too, as the players stroll on to the field, I try and take full advantage of those few precious moments before the game finally gets underway, to absorb the sights and sounds that surround me.

Here then is a taste of what I drank in today:

The opening delivery, served up, perhaps, at a temperature slightly below that which might be considered optimal. A satisfying dot ball.

Craig Overton’s removing the Nottinghamshire opening batsmen half way through the opening over. Can a batsmen be decanted back to the pavillion? If so, then that’s what happened to Haseed Hameed – clean bowled for nought.

Fluffy white clouds, scudding across bright blue skies as they pass behind the tower of St James’ Church.

The background noise of conversation in the well populated James Hildreth Stand as acquaintances are renewed after the long and wet winter break.

Having been generously gifted a season’s membership when I left my previous job last November, the view from the seat that has been designated to me for the T20 games that will be played later in the season – a seat that, coincidentally enough, has the same number as the room in the Hall of Residence in which I spent my first year at university.

James Rew’s jubilant appeal having taken the catch to dismiss Ben Slater off the bowling of Louis Gregory. 49-2.

The enormous white sheet that, draped between the Lord Ian Botham Stand and the pavillion named after the less exalted Colin Atkinson, billows in the wind as it serves as a makeshift sight-screen

Louis G extending his back as the umpire’s finger gives Will Young out lbw. 52-3.

Sean Dickson with his characteristically upturned collar offering precious little protection from the stiff breeze at the ground today.

Craig O racing in from the Marcus Trescothick Pavilion end and, having completed a sharp piece of fielding off his own bowling, lying sprawled headlong between the wickets.

Black trousered and fedora hatted umpires walking slowly to their positions between overs, each in turn relieving the bowlers of their jumpers before reuniting one with the other once more.

The covers, strangely white this year, never once straying from their rightful place – comfortably beyond the boundary edge.

An opportunity to read Brian Carpenter’s excellent tribute to Derek Underwood*, the first, not so slow, left armer I recall watching on TV as a boy.

A black Labrador, not mine, being fussed over by Tom Banton during the lunch break, an encounter that took place only a few yards from Brian the club cat’s summer residence.

Shoaib Bashir bowling. He seems every bit as tall as everyone says and certainly too long in the trunk to find a shirt of sufficient length to tuck into his trousers! Even so, after being hit by him for six in his first over, Bash has the last laugh when, he takes the wicket of Clarke. Tom Banton takes the catch and it’s 118-4.

Tractor, back for another season, offering his customary vocal encouragement, alongside that of the players’ themselves.

Watching a few overs whilst standing at the square leg boundary, as Josh Davey and the umpire engage in good humoured conversation between deliveries.

A near faultless performance from a seemingly in form scoreboard!

Matt Renshaw who, judging by the smile on his face, is enjoying his cricket as much as ever. He also finds time to help the individual on the players bench who is struggling to complete a crossword. It seems he not only knows the capital of Egypt, but knows how to spell it too.

Three quick wickets falling, the first off the bowling of Josh Davey and then two more for Craig Overton – all three caught behind the stumps by Rew, Lammonby and Gregory as, with the dismissal of Haynes, Montgomery and Harrison, 139-4 becomes 153-7.

Enjoying the overs before tea from the vantage point of the elevated seating in the Marcus Trescothick Pavilion. It seems I don’t have acrophobia and there is no recurrence of those vertiginous symptoms with which I entered the ground.

Ironic applause at the announcement, just before tea, that all pies and pasties are now selling at half price! An offer which I choose not to take advantage of!

Migael Pretorius getting his first wicket for Somerset at the CACG. Lyndon James lbw for 18. 183-8

Committed fielding by Somerset throughout the day, which is amply rewarded when a direct hit by Lewis Goldsworthy sees Hutton run out for 20 and the score at 185-9.

Rew’s third catch behind the stumps as Pretorious claims Fletcher as his second wicket of the day. And Notts are all out for 193 as tea is taken.

Sean Dickson reaching double figures with a fine square cut that sees the ball speeding across the beautifully green outfield all the way to the boundary.

Successive boundaries from the bat of Matt Renshaw, the first a majestic straight drive, the second an equally impressive shot through the covers.

I linger at the boundary edge for a couple of deliveries hoping for a brace of boundaries to take us past 50 but circumstances dictate that I have to leave the ground with Somerset on a very satisfactory 43 without loss with a good few overs of the day yet to bowl. But it’s been a terrific opening two and a half sessions of my summer of watching Somerset.

The full day of work that awaits me in the morning has enabled me to attend the game today, but it means I’ll not be able to see any play tomorrow. But hopefully I’ll be back again on Sunday afternoon, perhaps with my own black Labrador in tow. And who knows, with a bit of luck Tom Banton will be on hand to give him a tickle!

Addendum:

The day ended with Somerset on 116-1 with Dickson on a particularly pleasing 70 not out. Enough to warm any Somerset supporter’s heart – just as any fine wine would!

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*To read Brian Carpenter’s excellent piece, ‘On Derek Underwood’, by clicking here

Other less worthy cricket blogs.

To read ‘When rain stops play’, click here

To read ‘Only a game’, click here

To read ‘The Hundred: is cricket amusing itself to death?’, click here

To read ‘The Somerset Cricket Emporium – 2023’, click here

To read ‘for the third time of asking, CRICKET’S COMING HOME…surely’, click here

To read ‘Twas the week of the final’, click here

To read ‘Sharing the important things: on introducing your grandchild to cricket’, click here

To read ‘Somerset v Nottinghamshire T20 Quarter Final 2023’, click here

To read ‘Breaking News’, click here

To read ‘Lewis Calpaldi – Retired Hurt?’, click here

To read ‘Cricket: It’s All About Good Timing’, click here

To read ‘Bazball, Bazchess, Bazlife’, click here

To read ‘Online criticism: it’s just not cricket’, click here

To read ‘Cigarettes, Singles, and Sipping Tea with Ian Botham: Signs of a Well Spent Youth!’, click here

To read ‘A Historic Day’, click here

To read ‘Cricket – through thick and thin’, click here

To read ‘My love is NOT a red, red rose’, click here

To read ‘Scooby Doo and the Mystery of the Deseted Cricket Ground’, click here

To read ‘Brian and Stumpy visit The Repair Shop’, click here

To read ‘A Tale of Two Tons’, click here

To read ‘A Somerset Cricket Players Emporium’, click here

To read ‘A Cricket Taunt’, click here

To read ‘A Song for Brian’, click here

To read ‘At Season’s End’, click here

To read ‘A Day at the Cricket’, click here

To read ‘The Great Cricket Sell Off’, click here

To read ‘On passing a village cricket club at dusk one late November afternoon’ click here

To read ‘How the Grinch stole from county cricket…or at least tried to’. click here

To read ‘How Covid-19 stole the the cricket season’, click here

To read ‘A Cricket Tea Kind of a Day’, click here

To read ‘Life in the slow lane’, click here

To read ‘A Cricketing Christmas Carol’, click here

To read ‘Twenty things we have learnt this summer’, click here

To read ‘Frodo and the Format of Power’, click here

To read ‘If Only’, click here

To read ‘I’ve got a little CRICKET list’, click here

To read ‘Eve of the RLODC limericks’ click here

To read ‘It’s coming home…’, click here

To read ‘A Song for Ben Green’, click here

To read ‘Enough Said…’, the last section of which is cricket related, click here

A Jack Leach Trilogy:

To read ‘For when we can’t see why’, click here

To read ‘WWJD – What would Jack Do?’, click here

To read ‘On Playing a Blinder’, click here

To read ‘Coping with Disappointment’, click here

And to finish – a couple with a theological flavour

To read ‘Somerset CCC – Good for the soul’, click here

To read ‘Longing for the pavilion whilst enjoying a good innings’, click here

To read ‘Be Drunk’ – extended theological version’, click here