Clubcricket is an imperfect nursery for the professional game, and those youngsters who do come through swiftly become enmeshed in a structure that cultivates tenured mediocrity.
At Milnrow, a club on the outskirts of Rochdale, two miles from the Yorkshire border, the game against Unsworth was swiftly abandoned so that everybody could get to the bar and tell tales of the deeds they would have performed.
English cricketers are constantly told they are too soft, that players pick up wages for aspiring only to mediocrity, and when Leicestershire supply unanswerable evidence that one club at least are fighting the good fight, they are greeted with public indifference.
Clubcricket is an imperfect nursery for the professional game, and those youngsters who do come through swiftly become enmeshed in a structure that cultivates tenured mediocrity.
At Milnrow, a club on the outskirts of Rochdale, two miles from the Yorkshire border, the game against Unsworth was swiftly abandoned so that everybody could get to the bar and tell tales of the deeds they would have performed.
English cricketers are constantly told they are too soft, that players pick up wages for aspiring only to mediocrity, and when Leicestershire supply unanswerable evidence that one club at least are fighting the good fight, they are greeted with public indifference.
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