It is the season of Lord's a leaping and pundits a pontificating putting us both under pressure, him to handle the travelling press and not to break down in front of them as a failed captain, me to replace the failed capstan between the handle and the Gubbins in the toilet cistern which broke down with a press too far.
It was the first bit of do it myself that I'd done since breaking my collar bone on a far flung cricket field in September. The ambulance took a while to arrive. Though not connected to the collar bone I resolved to campaign to place a defibrillator in every cricket pavilion in the country. I am at the very early stages of contacting The British Heart Foundation, The England and Wales Cricket Board and Warburtons.The latter who to their credit already support the BHF may see an opportunity from their side of the Pennines of turning even the tastiest of cricket teas into healthy ones.(See picture 2)
Only the BHF have got back in touch so far. They e-mailed, praising my efforts. I replied saying that as yet I hadn't done anything. 'All I have done is fall over on a cricket field'. A couple of days after I had written that, alas, tragic events befell another who was also just playing the game he loved. It is not the first time I'd wished that I hadn't opened my e-pen. My book French and Spanish Cricket for Beginners has a predilection for putting the mockers on, as if retweeting a commentator's curse, blindly hammering in without the benefit of hindsight the tail of the donkey where it will hurt the most.
The painful memory is about to resurface as the tenth anniversary of that Wave approaches, though as with the falls my pain is minuscule compared to that felt by others.
For the record what I intend to do is to apply for funding from the BHF to get a defibrillator for my cricket club. Raising the £400 will only take a Quiz Night. Finding out the pitfalls and whether the club is eligible under the BHF's scheme may take more time. Wouldn't it be nice if the BHF's scheme becomes the ECB's scheme perhaps with some financial support from Warburtons leaving the BHF to spend more of its funds elsewhere.
Cookie this morning seemed close to the state of the flapvalve washer I removed from the flushing mechanism of the cistern. See picture 3
More frayed at the edges than in tatters I'm afraid, unlike the Gubbins of the ECB I took the decision to replace it. It wasn't as clear cut as it appears in the picture. Okay the capstan was broken. As the ECB has found out tinkering and supergluing doesn't work and in the end I had to find a replacement. The challenge of the fallenge, so called because the flapvalve washer doesn't rhyme, was to clone it as all its other features were perfect to do the job viz. to get the cistern to function effectively with the lightest of touches. KP made the same point about coaches in his recent book
Unlike KP things don't get thrown away in our house. My memory is poor but I follow a pattern. It would be in the old bread bin with all the other odd bits awaiting their day. I was on a roll. There it was-the same piece of plastic I had used before to do exactly the same job that I had done so many years ago. I can't remember how many.
The fallenge like Cookie was still easily recognizable as its former self. In effect I replaced like with like. An exact replacement.
In fairness to the ECB cloning is not available at the time of writing and a replacement is a replacement. "When the floodgates open" said Cookie "it should be good." "But floodgates locked for too long are very hard to force apart" said Richard Hobson in The Times today.
All this talk of valves, blockages and collapsing should act as a salient reminder to the Gubbins at the ECB that Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA) is a leading cause of premature death. However they can be reassured that with immediate treatment lives can be saved. Seconds count however, and the ambulance service is unlikely to arrive quickly enough at any cricket ground to resuscitate most victims.
In similar circumstances we all feel like Azpilicueta and Fabregas at last night's game against Derby County. They just wanted to get the ambulance people as quickly as possible to their injured colleague Zouma, happily later 'given the all-clear'. The cricketers playing with me when I fell over felt the same and did the same-some going up to the main road to direct the ambulance to the club. I'm grateful for their help and care, as I am to all those who in some way have assisted in my recovery.
About 1 in 1000 of the population of the UK suffers SCA each year, about 60,000 cases annually. In England, the Ambulance Service attempt resuscitation in 25,000 cases per year but at present only a small proportion survive. According to the ECB 844,000 people were playing cricket in this country in 2014.
Doing the maths should persuade the ECB that to place an Automated External Defibrillator (AED) at every cricket club is a worthwhile and an achievable aim. Many SCA victims can be saved if persons nearby recognise what has happened, summon the ambulance services immediately, perform basic resuscitation, including chest compressions and use an AED to help restore the heart's normal rhythm. The critical factor is the speed with which the shock is given.
Mourinho was told, according to Matt Hughes of The Times that the stewards bringing on the stretcher were not allowed to run. That's what I thought I could still do on a cricket field. Run. Run after a ball in the field. My wife always worried seeing me at my age running after a ball. She was concerned that I would suffer a heart attack. Luckily I just tripped and broke my collar bone. If it had been a heart attack the chances are that with there being no AED at the club at which we were playing I would be on the wrong side of the stats.
Like Mourinho I too am frustrated. I can see a problem but I can only get to it at walking speed. The ECB is allowed to run towards its solution.
Last week I went to see The War of the Worlds , (See Picture 1) at the O2. The Artilleryman sang in a Brave New World that in order to defeat the Martians with their fighting machines, their Heat Rays and their Red Weed we'd play each other at Cricket and then beat them at their own game on our green grass with machines that we build (Picture 1 again with a bit of poetic license).
A game of cricket featured also on Grayson Perry's Comfort Blanket at The National Portrait Gallery in London. It was given blanket coverage as the game represents the nature of our country's identity. Grayson Perry feels though that our identity is not a constant. It adapts as we change. He says as I found out we feel like we are the same person we were years before, but we are not.
The recent ECB survey shows that cricket is a changing game that needs to adapt to participants with busy modern lifestyles. OMG is this the end of the cricketing world as I and many of the 844,000 know it?
Not at all as "The ECB is committed to help sustain cricket at a local level by investing in facilities and pitches, encouraging clubs to be fully representative of their local communities and offering maximum support to umpires, coaches, scorers and other volunteers who give up their time to support our grassroots game.“
It sounds as if their hearts are in the right place. But you, Cookie and I know that the proof of the pudding is in the eating.
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