In a year when the world lived in the shadow of multiple evolving crises – the climate emergency, war in Europe, deep economic insecurity – it is unsurprising that the mood of cricket and those who write about it was characterised by similar fluctuations.  As Sam Barnett wrote at The Full Toss (thefulltoss.com) in a prescient evaluation of what came to be known as ‘BazBall’, ‘Cricket is many things, yet perhaps most of all it is an act of anxiety’.

The year’s blogging began in the customary miasma of depression which followed England’s latest abject Ashes defeat, reflected worldwide sadness at the death of Shane Warne and ended the summer trying to make sense of the transformation in the performances of the England Test team while worrying about the future of the English domestic game. 

Warne’s legacy, and the memories he engendered, were often contradictory, and Chris Crampton, at Being Outside Cricket (beingoutsidecricket.com), struck a note which captured the more ephemeral virtues of Warne and Rod Marsh, who died on the same day:

‘In both cases, they formed the backdrop of the rhythms of a game that is an ever present part of the lives of so many of us…’.  ‘Cricketers rise and fall, are new and exciting or veteran and grizzled, but what they leave behind even more than the runs, wickets and catches they score and take are the memories…’.

These were the memories which prompted David Windram, also at The Full Toss, to view Warne in his context as a sporting maverick by referring to two other departed geniuses, Seve Ballesteros and Diego Maradona.  He was a maverick, a genius and much more.

Despite our deeply uncertain age it is possible to be certain that Warne would have relished the way in which England’s approach to Test cricket was transformed in 2022.  As Sam Barnett said: ‘English cricket is a naturally defensive act, a timid attempt to get through one miserable game and into another…in a world that has become so anxiety-inducing, it is fair to ask if it’s worth it.  Why, really, are we concerned about sending the ball down leg when the planet’s on fire?  What’s a poor shot compared to missiles landing in Kremenchuk, Kyiv, Cherkasy?’

‘As the world’s headlines tie new knots deeper and tighter into our stomachs, as the future’s clouds grow darker, there is something simple and refreshing in watching eleven gifted cricketers play without fear of failure’.

Watching County Championship cricket is a supreme way to relieve anxiety, and two bloggers wrote resonantly about its power to rekindle memories and sustain lives.  Having returned to watching Gloucestershire after more than forty years away, Andrew Thomas, at Rain Stopped Play, inspection at 3 (rainstoppedplayinspectionat3.wordpress.com) charted the rediscovery of his love for cricket through recollections of Mike Procter, Jim Foat, Nico Craven and car journeys to Cheltenham with last night’s John Peel Show on the radio.  A little further west, Peter Aird (peteaird.org) wrote with feeling and penetrating satire about following Somerset, the future of the English game and the problems of the National Health Service. 

Elsewhere, the wistfulness of the ageing player suffused the writing of Roger Morgan-Grenville at Old enough to know better (rogermg1.home.blog) as his team fades away in the face of social and cultural change, and a similar sentiment informed Rick Walton at sportslaureate (sportslaureate.co.uk), although in his case it was his body that was fading under the strain of a return to the crease.  Walton also provided a powerful and succinct testimony to the game’s virtues in the online age:

‘It was slow; it was warm; it was generous.  It smelt of humans, not algorithms’.

Cricket’s subtleties and dialogues can provide emotional stability in the age of the algorithm and all modern life’s other uncertainties.  Cherish it while you can.

Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack, 2023