Occasional cricketers and writers, as Sebastian Faulks points out in his introduction to this evocative collection of cricket memories, have much in common: they ‘tend to be vain, anecdotal, passionate, knowledgeable, neurotic and given to fantasy’. In other words cricket and writing constitute a marriage made in heaven.
In 1913, a celebrated team of author cricketers – including Arthur Conan Doyle and P G Wodehouse – played their final game. Last summer modern authors joined forces to re-establish a team of authors. No literary giants this time, but enthusiasts of the ilk to be spotted every summer weekend on village greens and city parks, defying the years and spreading waistlines to recreate the fading joys of youth. The players take turns to write essays which report the games in entertaining form, while linking each match and ground