Brief 4: David Essex (and Laurence Fishburne)

One of the first times I ever played men’s cricket, David Essex was playing. I’d have been 13 or 14, it was a Sunday game at Thames Ditton in Surrey. David Essex has remained one of those generally, consistently, famous people, so that even though this was the early 90s, I 100% knew who David Essex was, even though in the scorebook, it said “Cook” (David Cook being his actual name, I later discovered).

He bowled a few overs of tidy dibbly-dobbly right-arm seam. I was sitting by the boundary waiting to bat and he must have come over to field on the deep cover boundary. I remember he had an earring, he sat on a chair, lit up a fag, gave me a big smile and said something like “My feet are facking killing me” … you couldn’t ask for much more from David Essex, really, could you? I can’t be sure those details are correct, but it was something a bit like that.

That being one of the first times I played men’s cricket, that set a high standard of expectation for rock stars in opposition teams, but, sadly, Eric Clapton never turned out for Ripley, nor Mick Jagger for Roehampton. The next best after Essex was FA Cup hat-trick hero Tim Buzaglo being a regular for Byfleet.

It reminds me of the fact that on my first day working at Blackwell’s, Charing Cross, Laurence Fishburne came in and asked where the drama section was. A similarly high standard set, though, in that case, famous faces were quite regular thereafter. Bloomin' Tom Baker, he was never out of the place.

Some of those cricket days were pretty idyllic, looking back. If you’re like me, a cricket ground is, by definition, a thing of beauty, but some are certainly more so than others. Some were pretty standard suburban recreation grounds, but a fair few were classic English images, elegant pavilions, stunning backdrops, summer paradise.

If you turn up at a cricket ground, you learn to very quickly take in a series of details – how big’s the outfield, are there any short boundaries, are there good sightscreens, is the wicket grassy, is there any rough for a spinner, is there a slope, is the outfield well kept, are there bushes a ball might be lost in, is there a road which puts nearby cars at risk, does the pavilion have a TV, what beer’s on tap, are there decent showers, a good spot for watching the game, are there nets … all of these details will become important at some point in the day.

As a left-arm spinner, I’d be looking to bowl, ideally, slightly uphill and into the wind, if such factors exist. You take everything in within the first 10 minutes or so of arriving at a ground.

I’ve had many conversations about the effect weekend cricket can have on your general spirit. If you’re a bit dispirited in general, being a batsman and being out cheaply can be such a bummer and it can be hard to feel part of anything. If it’s gone ok, you’ve got 3 for 30, 20 not out, how lovely that after-match pint can see.

Even if David Essex can’t always be there.