In conversation with a possible new recruit to the cause this week I was pressed to describe what sort of cricket we play. ‘Languorous’ sprang to mind, which is about all one can reasonably expect from the sort of waifs, strays and aesthetes that we have tempted to the Stonor Valley in years gone by. An air of disdain for responsibility, blended with the faintest whiff of Tiggerish insouciance are all that is required to pass muster. Cricket as escapism is, I wager, why we’re all really here. Joe Tetlow escapes his weekly dose of Lefty socialism, courtesy of Green Alliance. Christiaan Jonkers escapes the workmen who toil away on his new East Wing. Nicky Bird, I suspect, escapes the police. Whatever the motivations for playing, the one thing that is for certain is that it isn’t about the result at all.   Except, of course, that it absolutely is. […]