I was afraid I might have jinxed young Taylor with my excitable predictions, but, no – I see that he scored another unbeaten century yesterday at Chelmsford. Unfortunately he’ll probably need to do the same thing again today if we (Leicestershire) are to avoid a hefty defeat.
I wasn’t there (not easy to get to Chelmsford by train) but at the exciting middle-of-the-table clash between Northants and Glamorgan at Wantage Road.
A few highlights of the day –
The moving video screen that sits where I think the old scoreboard used to be was advertising the club’s end of season do – a 3 course dinner, dancing and disco apparently, and all for £40.00 to members, £45.00 non-members. The dress code is ” lounge suits and cocktail frocks” – might be worth going, if only to see how some of the members interpret the dress code. Also the possibility of seeing Monty Panesar doing the military two-step.
A pugnacious fifty from James Allenby. Until last month JA was a Leicestershire player, and something of a stalwart, particularly in one-day cricket. Unfortunately the wantaway all-rounder then issued a come-and -get- me- plea (saying that he wanted to improve his chances of playing for England). Leicestershire told him that if he felt that way about it his services were no longer required, and Glamorgan have apparently come-and-got-him. Little chance of him playing test cricket whoever he’s playing for, I’d say, though an outside bet for a one-dayer or two.
The high winds blew down half of an advertising hoarding on to the head of a spectator, to general hilarity. The hoarding had originally read Hot brands – in its reduced state it then read Rands – a useful reminder to the massed Kolpacks of what they’re playing for (a jaundiced observer might say).
The chance to observe poor Monty Panesar (who must feel that he’s been very ill-used recently) grazing in the outfield. For a man who is alleged to have no cricket brain, he did seem sunk very deep in thought about something- perhaps what he was going to wear to the end of season dinner dance. He did take three wickets, though, and seemed to have got some of his Tiggerish bounce back.
A wonderful selection of secondhand books in the “signal box” – the supporters’ club bookshop : I replenished my supplies. A slightly melancholy aspect of this, though, is that I always suspect that I’m looking at a dead man’s (or indeed woman’s) library, lovingly assembled and now scattered to the winds.
Displeased to see that the advertisement for Weetabix, that fine Northamptonshire product, that’s graced the pavilion for as long as I can remember, has been replaced by one for some firm who claim to be Creating energy solutions. Bah!
A delicious Eccles cake with my tea.