Author’s note

Welcome to Cricket Froth,

where the world’s greatest game is described in fascinating detail.

Occasionally controversial, sometimes serious,often nostalgic and proudly local, Cricket Froth swims against the commercial tide of T20 and provides ideas on cricket’s future.

Join us for some non-establishment cricket media and get involved by posting your own comments, tips or requests for coverage of cricket issues that matter to you.

Patrick White

One comment


    From above, at Dharamsala, or
    further up the lower Himalayas,
    the cricket ground, with its red
    peaked stand with echoes of the
    Maharajas, looks nestled on a
    flat spot, in what might be
    disparagingly called the flats,
    even though the plateau is well
    above sea level by thousands of
    metres. Here the air is thin.
    From below, the ground is on
    small raised peaks, quite steeply
    inspired, its majestic backdrop
    may elevate cricketers to greater
    heights. These peaks are clouded
    and misty during the monsoonal,
    the dry rocks sometimes emerging
    graced with snow and ice, enacting
    guardians in their ominous presence.

    Today in the moist sunny atmosphere,
    between monsoon deluges, a bowlers
    delight, the sun stinging, Indian
    tourists mingle in the open public
    area, look at the ordered rows of
    plastic chairs, look up at the imposing
    glassed-in stands, seats behind regal
    glass, hints of Nabobs and overlords
    try to feel the pumping energy of
    seats full, a game in progress, take
    selfies, watch a line of bowed men
    on their bums, quietly inching across
    the lush green, attacking weeds with
    slow vengeance, with finger tweaks
    like the subtle movements of spinners,
    as they look on the turf for imperfections
    upon which they can move.

    The green sward is graced with
    the remains of patterned cut grass waves
    washed there by rain that floods across
    the surface, every afternoon, patterns
    of dry grass, reminders of flood plains
    and the rivulets of the monsoon floods.

    The deep channel between the seats and
    the ground brings forward images
    of the Coliseum at its height, channels
    for sluicing blood and whatever
    between acts.

    What will this next match versus Australia
    bring with it, can these cricket fans, those
    that only dream about buying a ticket,
    know how they will respond to the visceral,
    as the entrails of the losers are torn open
    at their weak point,
    are thrown open for display?

    I was there last year and they were already excited

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