Greatest Living Yorkshiremen – 1. Michael Vaughan

A momentous day today in English cricket. Michael Vaughan scored his first century for Yorkshire in over five years. Okay, it was just a hit and giggle match against Surrey in Abu Dhabi, but the fact is that one of our greatest sons is back in the saddle and scoring runs.

The England selectors have never closed the door to a return to the fold. All they have stipulated is that he needs to be scoring runs, and now he is. Although there is a part of me that would like to see him bat all season for Yorkshire, I know he deserves to be back in the England team.

When it comes to a comprehensive list of Greatest Living Yorkshiremen, you simply have to have a cricketer in there. There are those who quote Boycott as the quintessential Yorkshireman, but, although I have a grudging respect for him, he is held in scant affection by anyone inside or outside the county. Spending twenty years in a slow, remorseless pursuit of runs, followed by thirty years of telling everyone why they are not as good as you at doing it, does not a hero make.

For about fifteen years, Darren Gough held sway in my affections as favourite cricketer and a true great man of Yorkshire. His casual indifference to authority or reputation, and his pinpoint Yorkers made him a legend. But a series of events started to tarnish my affection for him. First he moved to Essex, recklessly abandoning the county of his birth simply for the convenience of being close to his two sons. Next, he decided not to tour Pakistan with the England side, preferring instead to remain in Britain and go on that dreadful dancing programme.

This had the effect of introducing him to a wider audience, broadening his appeal and moving him onto a career path that would culminate in a spandex body-suit, pushing Vanessa Feltz through a hole in a polystyrene wall whilst Dale Winton shrieked from the sidelines. It is fair to say that, by the time of this humiliation, my affections had moved on.

So Vaughan it is who fills the cricketing berth in my pantheon of greats. Captain of county and country, dignified and majestic, if a little over-fond of the odd bit of management-speak bullshit. What a guy.

Doppelganger

I went to see a customer today who looked and sounded EXACTLY like Jonathan Agnew. It was so uncanny that I started doing a Geoffrey Boycott impression to fit in. He wanted to know about extending his overdraft and I told him that he didn't need that as, "me granny could run this business within t'existing facilitee." Fortunately, I happen to know that the real Agnew is in Trinidad at the moment, and not running a shop in Ilkley.

Obviously, I was on duty so didn't mention the fact that he was quite clearly the evil twin of the BBC's cricket correspondent. But I was dying to ask him if it was a cross he constantly bears. At least Agnew is not a celebrity in the modern sense of the word - I suspect that he is not assailed constantly by octogenarian autograph hunters as he swans around Ilkley. Imagine if you were the living double of Cheryl Cole - you wouldn't get out of the house before people started hassling you, requesting photos, proffering autograph books, and tactfully not mentioning the whole "assault occasioning actual bodily harm" thing.

I think it would make an interesting feature - people who have to live their lives constantly being mistaken for someone else. I am not talking about people who make a living out of being lookalikes - that's boring. I mean people who are just, by the random wave of nature's fickle hand, cursed to be mistaken for someone more famous.

So do you know anyone who falls into this category - I'll interview them and make them famous. Oh hang on, they might not like that. Okay I'll interview them and put their story on here and seven people will read it.

Names to me by the end of Michaelmas term, please.

Chess on Grass

There are those who believe the devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he doesn’t exist. I disagree. I reckon the devil’s greatest trick was Twenty20 cricket.

Last night I watched a replay of New Zealand’s victory over India from Wellington. A meaningless match in a format I pretend to dislike, between two teams about which I couldn’t give a monkey’s cuss. But a match-winning innings by Brendon McCullum, an aggressive Indian bowling attack prompting a late Kiwi collapse, and a victory coming on literally the last ball of the match meant I was enthralled.

Today I am watching the England / West Indies Test from Barbados. I am delighted to say that, in direct comparison, it is splendidly dull. This illustrates perfectly the dilemma in cricket between the traditionalist and the moderniser.

The moderniser will tell you that Test cricket is long-winded, intricate to the point of incompehension, and virtually inpenetrable to the non-believer. Cricket must, they will argue, adapt to survive in the new era of multi-channel, low-attention-span, red-buttonness. If cricket is to succeed in attracting a new generation of supporters, they will protest, it must “give the fans what they want.”

I, however, find myself in the camp of the traditionalist. The beauty of cricket lies in its intricacy. No other game can possibly spend so long discussing small variations in the atmospheric moisture levels.

I also believe that Test cricket is long-winded, intricate to the point of incompehension, and virtually inpenetrable to the non-believer. But that’s the way I like it. I love the fact that Nasser Hussain and Michael Holding can talk uninterupted for fifteen minutes about the condition of one side of the ball without once mentioning the international sport going on in front of them. And they can do that whilst missing absolutely nothing.

A game that takes five days to play out requires a level of commitment and concentration in the viewer that is sorely lacking in this day and age. Casual observers need not apply.

If you want bitesize entertainment, I recommend a Milky Way. Twenty20 is not what the fans want, it is what the fans deserve.