Distraction

In a semi-successful early-morning attempt to take my mind off forthcoming events, I picked up Leo McKinstry's tremendous biography of the world's greatest living Yorkshireman, Geoffrey Boycott. 

It was a section about Boycott's first tour to South Africa in 1966. It wasn't just a different game, back then, it was a different life, a different Britain [and, of course a far different South Africa]. The head of selectors was Walter Robins, an eccentric self-publicist who used to go to the cinema when he found the cricket boring to watch. Dropping two leading batsmen, Tom Graveney and Colin Cowdrey, Robins then selected Mike Brearley, who was still a student at Cambridge, ahead of John Edrich and Mickey Stewart. 

Ted Dexter, the era's rough equivalent of Kevin Pietersen in terms of batting flair, arrived in South Africa almost a month late, because he'd been standing as a parliamentary candidate in the general election. None of this seemed to cause any particular disquiet.

The players were expected to play: Boycott batted 10 times before the first Test match, and made over a thousand first-class runs on the tour. It was effectively a season of cricket.

Boycs ran Dexter out as soon as Ted got there of course. With both stranded halfway down as Boycott tried to nick the strike, Dexter's last memory was of Geoffrey diving back past him to make sure he was in. Superb.

Now for Lord's...