The big question

Its probably fair to say that in the last ten days, I have spent at least six of them dedicated to learning the laws of cricket. Picture Paola and I, armed with the MCC laws, a box set of the ashes, a vat of coffee and nothing but our fearless determination in the face of overwhelming ignorance pushing us onwards.

First thing this morning the pop quizzing started late last week resumed, with many although not all answers finishing with 'have a humbug'. Sadly tonight's exam may have highlighted that six days of competative pop quizzing over the email system does not an umpire make.

To be fair the evening started poorly, and we at least made it over the starting gate and arrived at the exam site which may or may not push us above the self proclaimed Ginger Rocky in the ranking. Clearly fate was not on the team's side as Clapham Junction and Balham decided to have simultaneous nervous break-downs reducing the Umpiring examiners to near tears as their preciously planned evening was disrupted by late arrivals and cancellation phone calls.

But by question ten it would be fair to say I was unsettled. During the 10-20 period (a phase we will henceforth refer to as the 'dark time') I was concerned I might not make it to the end. Fortunately I experienced an unexpected upsurge of confidence throughout the LBW section, proving that BN can teach you just about anything, but then I hit the wall of time allocation, penalty run calculation and the mysterious questions of practise on the pitch, missing players, and which dead balls have to be called dead and which you are allowed to leave in peace.

Despite my protestations that I am not expecting to experience any 'dissent' on the mountain, it is essential that I know the laws for managing such occasions (which according to the gentlemanly laws of cricket involve taking the captain aside and gentley suggesting he might like to have a chat over pimms with his players and suggest to them that acts of violence have no place in the game). Otherwise I can threaten them with a report to their regulatory body, who is presumably Kirt who will beat them into submission on the way down the mountain.. although if I'm backed up at the strikers end by Mr Waters I can presumably ask him to pelt them with humbugs...

By the end I was whimpering at my desk desperately trying to add up penalty runs, remember whether you call wide when it has passed the striker or the wicket and trying to establish in a question which was described over several paragraphs which runs would be debited against the bowler, which the batsman got credit for and whether the collective head scratching around the room was nits, or a genuinely hard test.

Anyway... faces did not look the most confident at the end of play, and I think Hill Senior is considering whether he could have more productively spent his time... not least the five hour round trip just for the exam.

On a positive note with Rocky himself having had to miss the test we should be able to prime him with enough of our remembered answers to get at least one accredited umpire between the six of us... the pass mark is set at a blistering 80% it turns out we may be facing ongoing revision sessions, or taking one of the bearded folk from the course up the mountain.

I feel perhaps it was an evening that could have been more enjoyably spent eating pancakes... but that will have to wait til next year now...

Back to school

So this weekend was spent at Umpire School, which I can assure you is filled with some of the most interesting people on the planet. Day one started with some exceptional planning which saw me getting up at six in the morning in order to trek from streatham via wimbledon to fulham, to get into BN's car and drive through Wimbledon and south streatham to eventually head to Caterham. Nice additional round tripping, who needs a lie in anyway...

Arriving 40 minutes early was praising God for the provision of coffee. And the extra large tin of biscuits sighted early on. Thank god there was. A full hour and a half later on the ‘spirit of cricket’ alone, and I was considering gnawing off my own arm just to give me something to do. Still at least for me some of the information covered was news. If you’ve played cricket since you could walk I should imagine this would be like ancient Japanese water torture.

Break one and Paola was still enthusiastically questioning what was what, and the guys were pouring coffee down, by lunch spirits were flagging and there was increasing concern about the liklihood of safe exit in time for kick off. Fortunately by virtue of giving vicious looks to anyone who asked any questions and flashing a charming smile to the lecturer, edging him closer to the heart attack in the offing we escaped safe.

It is worth mentioning that probably Paola and I could have asked for anything at any point in the whole proceedings, and been granted it on a golden platter, so excited were the random cricket geeks by the concept of women's cricket and the presence of female umpires to be. I don't think this excitement was actually sexual, just a slightly patronising bemused enthusiasm for all things cricket related. I think they might cry if either of us fail!

Fortunately by the end of day two we were in a position to pass 9 out of 10 mock questions, getting the final one wrong along with the rest of the entire class. Not sure I'm getting the answers right based on an actual understanding of the laws, but at least I'm fully versed on the spirit of cricket, and will be encouraging the players not to commit acts of violence and to thank the tea ladies...