I must confess I loved cricket when I was little. More to the point, I loved go to cricket with my Dad.
We lived in a small town that had a cricket club, with games played every weekend at the cricket grounds. The grounds were nothing special, they were surrounded by bushland and looking back it probably wasn’t much more than a cement strip in the middle of an oval. Families could sit under the lean to, which was just a tin roof on top of poles.
The grounds were maintained by the locals and many working bees were attending in the 8 years that we lived there. While the parents worked, us kids would have races from one side of the oval to the other. Oh to have even a bit of that energy now! We also loved working bees because that meant piles of dirt. Piles of dirt meant slides, rivers and trucks, much to our mother’s dismay.
The cricket club had a canteen on match days and I would pester my mum for chips and drink. Pleading that I was starving but couldn’t possibly eat any of the food she had bought along. The giant water cooler was also nothing in comparison to a can of Golden Pash, especially if everyone else was having one.
With the cricket season in summer it also meant sunburn. The hat my mother insisted I wear was discarded as soon as we were out of sight. Things were much more laid back in a small town. We would go exploring, looking for rocks, new paths and sometimes stumbling on slimy reptiles. This would always send us screaming back to our parents!
My life has always been filled with sport. My Dad will watch anything that looks like a competitive sport. My childhood was filled with cricket in the summer and Footy in the winter. Even now at 53 he regularly participates in team sports, mainly Touch Football.
Did you grow up watching sport?