MY appetite for Talking Cricket is somewhat diminished at the moment. Kent have had a bad week. Instead of harpooning the 'Sussex Sharks', we were chewed up and spat out. Added to that, on Benson and Hedges semi-final day, a day we traditionally reserve for cricket, I found myself presiding over a children's tea party far more terrifying than any feeding frenzy the sharks could create. These cricket-related problems I could just about cope with. We have learnt to handle disappointment with dignity and in a philosophical manner over the years at Kent.
It is World Cup fever, that highly-contagious disease currently sweeping the country, that has pushed me closest to the abyss. I turn on my television in the morning in the hope of seeing a fascinating, yet balanced, discussion on family relationships or pastels for Royal Ascot, yet all I get is: ``Our phone-in today is 'Life after Gazza, is it worth living?'.'' I turn on the radio in the hope of hearing the weather, instead it's over to ``our man in Marseille''. I open my newspaper and finally track down the paragraph on cricket sandwiched between an in-depth analysis of results, goals, teams, kilts, boot colouring, the Tartan Army, spiritualists and God knows what else. By the time England play their first game, I imagine I'll know that the Tunisian No 7 likes the Moody Blues, loves Nights in White Satin, his favourite pudding is date crumble, and he drives a turbo-charged camel.
It seems like a lifetime ago that Mike Atherton so gloriously rediscovered his form and helped guide England into a position of such strength that Alec Stewart in his first Test as captain could contemplate a declaration. Maybe Glenn Hoddle's spiritualist isn't such a bad idea. In two of our last three Test matches the omnipotent match referee has pulled the plug on England's realistic fifth-day victory hopes. Come back Andrew Wingfield-Digby, all is forgiven!
Tuesday's Benson and Hedges semi-finals were all but lost in the build-up to the World Cup's opening ceremony on Wednesday and yet provided two fascinating, and contrasting, games of cricket. Sky Television covered both matches live. People have complained that involving Sky in cricket denies too many people the opportunity of watching the games. There must be a heck of a lot of people in Leicester connected to Sky as only 3,000 supporters turned up to watch 13 past and present, and several future, internationals score more than 600 runs in a day full of thrilling cricket. What more does a team as good as Leicestershire have to do to fill their ground?
Had it been the Leicester football or rugby teams that had reached, and won, a knockout semi-final, the local reaction might have been different. The victorious cricket team competed with a World Cup football story, and a Leicester City football story on the back page of the Leicester Mercury. As one member put it: ``If it had been football or rugby, they'd have had a separate edition.''
Leicester has a population in the region of 250,000 and Leicestershire approximately 750,000. It is not a large county, yet the football club regularly attracts crowds of over 20,000 and the rugby over 10,000. Clearly the county and town can support successful and popular sports. Leicestershire are successful. The game at all levels needs to generate income. In order to generate income, we need to generate interest. In order to do that, the national side needs to be successful as well. The greater the support and enthusiasm for the national team's efforts, the greater the chances of success.
I imagine next Thursday's vital second Test against South Africa at Lord's, in London, our capital, you know, just north of France, will be swallowed up by post-Tunisian euphoria or inquisitions. I hope not, but sometimes I do wonder whether cricket is destined to be the water polo or modern pentathlon of the 21st-century. The players are fully aware of the need to make the game as entertaining, commercially attractive, and viable as possible. They can only do so much.
While driving up to Leicester last night, it was pointed out to me by a colleague that more than one member of our national football team earns more in a week than I do in a season. I'm not envious, I'm sick with jealousy. I do, however, appreciate that market forces are everything and that these guys are 'the main men' in 'the game'. There was a time when cricket could rightfully claim to compete on a level playing field with football. I sincerely hope that at some stage in the future cricket, without ever achieving parity - which would be an unrealistic goal - can yet again hold its own. Who knows, maybe next year's FA Cup finalists will complain about our World Cup fever, and the footballers be envious of our salaries.