Reflections on a Winter of Cricket

It seems such a long time since 25 November 2010 (strictly 24 November GMT), when I was suffering a most unsettling combination of excitement, anxiety and anticipation.  An emotional cocktail unmatched since 23 November 2006 and look how that ended.  The long awaited start of the 2010/11 Ashes series had nearly arrived and I was preparing to hear it through the long dark cold nights in the company of the marvellous TMS team.  As I waited for the minutes to tick by to the start of the broadcast, my memory took me back over the numerous series that I'd listened to, in the dark, snuggled under the duvet.  Right back to my very first: New Zealand v England in early-1984.  How much winter cricket I had enjoyed - and often endured - since then.  Despite these experiences, my levels of excitement and optimism this time around were sky high.

I had run out of ways to occupy myself productively as the minutes passed so so slowly.  All media sources covered: Sky on the bedroom TV, digital and LW radios tuned to TMS and my laptop showing the BBC Live Commentary page at the bedside.  I'd exchanged emails and texts with all my cricket friends, including one in Australia who was certain that The Ashes were not going to be Australia's.  A most pleasing thought, of course, but not one that I was prepared to voice out loud at that stage, although it had been buzzing around my head for months.

Eventually, it was time for the toss.  Mr Strauss won and chose to bat.  Great start and no chance of a repeat of a first ball as disastrous as Harmison's opener in 2006.  All was going to be fine, I dared to think.  Huge mistake: three balls in and Strauss was out without scoring.  Not part of my simple plan.  (100 without loss at lunch.)  Surely, this couldn't be the start of a repeat of four years ago …

Happily not, and by early-January 2011 my sleep sacrifices and all the anguish, highs and lows in between had been rewarded with a 3-1 series victory.  The Ashes had been firmly retained by England.  The ticker tape at the SCG was red and white, not gold and green as had fallen on my head four years earlier.  The little urn remained properly ours.  And I've got a personalised mug to commemorate the achievement of England's only winter cricketing objective.

And that, of course, is where the winter of cricket ended.  Did anything happen after that?  Twenty20 matches?  ODIs?  Perhaps some long winded international tournament on the sub-continent?  There were plenty of rumours about all of those but I've no memory of them - and no mug in the kitchen cupboard, so that proves it.