Given that I didn’t get together with my wife until I was 22, I don’t think it will cause trouble if I say that cricket is the longest-standing passion of my life.
My first memories of the sport are variously of hitting a ball around a damp Welsh beach, and of watching the beguiling bowling of Phil Edmonds on TV in around 1986. From that point on, my parents regularly took me to watch Cambridge University’s matches, which in those days had first-class status. Mike Atherton, a mere student in 1987, became my cricketing hero and inspired me to be a leg-spinner long before Shane Warne made it trendy.
I went to my first test match in 1989, coincidentally Atherton’s debut, at Trent Bridge against the Aussies. We missed his second ball duck (and Martyn Moxon’s third ball duck), having left our seats between innings to buy an ice cream. Watching England was largely painful (and sometimes dull) for a long time.
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