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Scarborough Festival

"Scorecards! Cards sixpence each!

Get your scorecards here! "

The old man in the white coat was always there,

His booming voice echoed around the ground.

 

Balmy, sunlit weekdays at the festival.

Bright azure blue, and cloudless, skies.

Not even the merest breath of a breeze.

Seagulls squawking, eyeing up our sandwiches, 

As we lay out our picnic on a rickety old bench.

Happy, happy days on North Marine Drive.

 

The twack of leather upon willow. 

Dizzying white flannels against the green.

The cricket pavilion, of splendour, 

Which I scoured for glimpses of our Yorkshire heroes!

 

And I saw Graeme Pollock knock a ton, 

The fastest century of the season by a mile!

This wizard whirled his bat round, like a wand,

Caressing the ball to all parts of the ground, 

Suddenly, dispatching it over the sightscreen!

Where I catch it!

Metaphorically. 

Fifty years too late. 

And where I now serve it up,

On my memory's plate. 

 

And here is Trueman running in... 

To the beer tent for a pint or two. 

No time for autographs.  "Go away, you! 

I'm thirsty, lad, and it's bloody hot!" 

Most players signed for us, though. 

Including Boycott. 

 

"Scorecards! Scorecards! Cards sixpence each!" 

Happy day! Oh, happy, happy day! 

It was T. N. Pearce's Eleven versus Yorkshire.

I didn't really need a scorecard, anyway.

 

◄ A Walk, to Remember

Cromwell ►

Comments

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John Botterill

Mon 11th Jul 2022 22:29

Thanks for the likes Holden, John and Nigel 😀

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John Botterill

Mon 11th Jul 2022 09:28

Thanks Stephen. I really enjoy your responses! I feel that we have had parallel lives! 😁
I was trying to capture my world before I was Hemmed in by a mortgage haha. Sheer bliss!
P. S. I didn't realise that Garfield had a brother! Now, there WAS a great player and another left hander!

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Stephen Gospage

Mon 11th Jul 2022 08:03

I never made it to Scarborough, John, but thus really takes me back cricket festivals. In the 1960s I saw Gary Sobers (and his brother Gerry) play against Essex at Westcliff on a Sunday afternoon. Life really doesn't get much better, and your poem describes all the atmosphere with great panache.

Graeme Pollock - one of the all time greats. If only he had been born somewhere else.

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John Botterill

Sun 10th Jul 2022 14:21

Thanks for your appreciation, Greg. Cricket touches my nostalgia bone, I think!
Yes cricket is looking up, certainly. 😀
Thanks for the like, too, Frederick and Stephen A.

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Greg Freeman

Sun 10th Jul 2022 14:05

Lovely poem, John, especially for those of us who love cricket. Exciting days, too at the moment.

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