Even if you don’t support England or Australia, the Ashes Test Series is always good cricket. However, if you do support England, you do not want to be missing this.
I had wanted to go to the Hoosier Cup 2012 for two reasons: I wanted to see if I could take some action shots and I wanted to see some cricket.
Photo-wise, I did okay. Of course, all the fields are lined with tall fences which made it hard, but there was an upstairs at the pavilion so I was able to bypass the fence that way.
Cricket-wise, it was so, so nice to see it live again. It was hard as I didn’t know any of the teams or players, so I just clapped for whomever did something well, regardless of which team (distinguished by the color of their shirts). There were 20 teams in total, which meant four matches going on at a time so I just wandered from one to another. Of course, the scoreboards were not cricket-friendly, so it was hard to tell who was winning. Rules were modified slightly: they played eight overs a side and had eight men per team, and because they were playing on baseball fields, they always bowled to the batsman at “home plate.” I didn’t hear too many “Howzats,” but it was early in the day (the first game started at 7.30 and the final won’t occur until 21.15 so I’m sure things will liven up as the day progresses). A local restaurant was selling dosa and other snacks and beverages: the smell made me extremely hungry. All in all, I’m glad I went and wish I could have stayed longer.
Good luck to all the teams!
(Click photo to enlarge.)
To celebrate my return to cricket, why not watch the greatest cricketer of all time?
In honour of the Ashes win, please enjoy.
Here’s some silliness:
While driving home though West Yorkshire one afternoon, we pulled up to a light. It was quite hot so I had reclined my seat a bit and was resting my bare feet through the window on the wing mirror (I was in the passenger seat, obviously). The driver of the car in the lane next to us was an older gentleman who smiled when I glanced at him. I leaned down to adjust the radio, and the man reached over and tickled my feet, which made me jump. I called out to the driver of my car (for protection? I don’t know–was the man’s unsolicited tickle actually a type of assault?) and just as I cried out, the driver of my car (oblivious to the tickling incident) yelled out, “That’s Bumble!” certain he had seen one Mister David Lloyd driving past us. All in all, it was an odd wait at an intersection (sorry, junction), and I presume as time goes on and the anecdote morphs, it will eventually be a case of Bumble being the cheeky tickler.