''Pretend I'm new and want to play and not just be told "Go bat! Your up!".''
You might start with this poem by Arthur Salway:
Alive & Well
Stapleton in June. The sun shines down
Upon the cricket ground beside the town.
Spectators congregate and very soon
Forget their troubles for the afternoon,
Relishing an English summer's bliss.
Through bitter winter months they longed for this.
The visitors from Frome have won the toss
And batting first, are 30 without loss.
Visiting players, age obscure,
Having played here many times before,
Begin to wander by the dry stone walls
Responding to raised hands and welcome calls,
Greeting the spectators, some by name,
(Would this take place with any other game?)
And sitting with them, settle at their ease
Beside the walls and underneath the trees,
Then slowly, very slowly, working round
Renew old friendships all around the ground;
Men of different status, age, and kind
Seeking and finding those of kindred mind,
Impartial as they venture and compare
Opinions of proceedings on the square
Discussing prospects, memories, the wicket:
What do they have in common? Only cricket.
In other circles they would never meet
Or, silent, pass each other in the street.
As wickets fall spectators must release
Protagonist companions to the crease
Their conversations promised to resume
When next the first team plays at home to Frome.
"Ref assaulted", "Jostling at Lords",
"Team bus stoned" in pictures and in words
The press and media never fail to mention
The foul language, violence and tension
So prevalent in sport and, so it seems,
Between supporters of opposing teams.
The cameras and press we may assume
Will not be there when Stapleton play Frome