Cricket is for poofs – Official!

For years I’ve been trying to convince various ex-girlfriends that cricket is, in fact, a manly game played by finely tuned athletes. “It’s just as dangerous as rugby” I would tell them as I recalled various injuries I’d witnessed on council pitches across leafy Buckinghamshire.

“But it seems…I dunno…a bit gay” they would reply and no matter how hard I tried to convince them otherwise, they would always assume that there was another side of my nature which I wasn’t telling them. A more, how shall I put this, feminine side.

It appeared that my love of cricket meant that short of flouncing down the road in a rubber basque singing Judy Garland songs, I couldn’t be gayer if I tried.

Marcus Berkmann says pretty much the same in the excellent Rain Men.

When we were younger, we had to be altogether more circumspect about our feelings. At my school, football was pre-eminent. It was the national sport. To be obsessed with football was considered natural, even wholesome. Football was a man’s game, involving mud, cold, random violence and, if you were really lucky, serious injury…Cricket never had the same cachet.

Rather than coming out of the closet, Berkmann refers to it as coming out of the cupboard. A cupboard “where we hid our secret hoards of The Cricketer and linseed oil”.

For years, cricket had an image problem. It wasn’t a “man’s game”. Somehow anyone playing the game was deemed to be a bit of a fairy. That all changed, though, in 2005 when Freddie Flintoff burst into the mainstream. Here was a man’s man – a beer drinking bear of a bloke who could bowl at 90 mph, club the ball miles into the crowd and had a beautiful wife to boot. Add into the mix the Simon Jones photoshoot which had women positively drooling and all of a sudden, after years of sneering and innuendo, cricket had finally got balls. It was cool to like cricket. It was even cooler to play it.

Pre-2005

Girl at party: So what do you do in your spare time, Mike?
Mike: I play cricket
Girl at party: Poof

Post-2005

Girl at party: So what do you do in your spare time, Mike?
Mike: I play cricket
Girl at party: Wait here whilst I get my twin sister, the camcorder and book a hotel room

After the 2005 Ashes, cricket was considered to be a proper man’s game and everything. No more snidey comments. No more “jokes” about only bowling maidens over on the cricket field. No more having to hide your “Best of Barbara Streisand” CD when new girlfriends came round. Cricketers were men’s men who could drink their body weight in beer, who were in touch with their feelings (as shown by Freddie at Edgbaston) but, more importantly, who would shag the arse off the lower sixth at St Bernadettes School for Girls.

That was until Saturday.

Whilst cleaning out the flat this morning, I discovered a copy of The Sun from Saturday. I know..I know..but bare with me on this, OK? I’d not paid any attention to it until now but there, on the front page, was Michael bloody Vaughan destroying all the hard work of Freddie, Jonesy and every other sodding cricketer since the dawn of time in just three words.

Vaughny..Vaughny..how could you betray us like this? You’re the England captain, for Gods sake. You’re supposed to be the epitome of all things cricket in this country. Why? Why? Why?

Michael Vaughan betrays the English cricket community in just 3 words

Guess it’s back to the cupboard for me, then. Ho hum.

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4 comments so far

  1. Lida
    #1

    Cricket is manly game !!!

  2. Mike
    #2

    I know, Lida, I know but try convincing that to some women…sigh..

  3. Astrid
    #3

    I can’t find this actual story on the web anywhere.

    I love cricket, and I would like to jump Vaughany. Although when I was in England recently a lot of English people I spoke to said he’s widely considered gay?! Noo!

  4. Mike
    #4

    I’m sure it probably ended up on the online version of the Sun but I don’t know how long they keep their archives up for.

    Vaughany gay? Hmmm….dunno but he does mince a bit when he’s fielding…

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