The only season that matters is nearly upon us, not that you need any excuse to read Geoffrey Moorhouse’s The Best Loved Game, a tour d’horizon of English cricket during 1978. 346 more words
Tags » David Gower
Tanzanian porters and guides stand on a rock half way up Kilimanjaro at sunset trying to get a mobile phone signal to call their wives. Two teams are taking part in a gruelling eight-day trek up the vast extinct volcano, to play a full Twenty20 game of cricket in the ice-covered crater just below its rugged peak, at 5,785 metres (19,000 feet).
“Who is this?”
The barman smiled smugly.
“Stone the crows, you must be a stranger,” he said.
“Of course I’m a stranger,” I said. “It’s the only way to cope with living in this godforsaken country. 727 more words