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A BATTY STORY...

 July 14th, a date writ large in the Revolutionary Calendar, provided the opportunity for my memory to undergo many revolutions - back some forty years in fact.

But: to proceed in logical sequence. We, the Archivers were enjoying our annual fixture with the Theatrical Cavaliers, on 14th July 2008, at the Merrion Cricket Club, Anglesea Road, with our home ground of Castle Park, happily for this tale, out of commission. Two Old Merrionites, Pierce Butler and I, were reminiscing about the past, as veterans do, fondly making "the burnt-out Junes...revive". Pierce, with a wistful look, reminded me of the great flood in the 1960s, when so much 'MCC' memorabilia was lost, including "the Pavilion Bat". I lept in the air. Dockrell's loss of memory had become a Senior Moment of Guinness Book of Records stature. "I have had the Bat in my attic for the past forty or so years!", I blurted out. Forty Years On became on the spot as if yesterday. Michael Roche-Kelly of 'MCC' had phoned me on a Saturday morning with the news that the Dodder had flooded its banks and swept away the Pavilion. Could I come along and help in a salvage operation? During the dismal task of wading through the debris, I noticed a wooden object of rectangular shape floating towards me. I picked it up, turned it over and made a startling discovery. It was the greatly-prized Pavilion Bat, which had hung in the 'MCC" Pavilion, bearing the autographs of the England and Australian teams for the Oval Test Match in 1938. Miraculously its glass case had protected the autographs most efficiently, apart from a few at the very bottom. The "Greats" were all legible. I of course informed an "MCC" big-wig, in this case Eddie Lewis, who in due course took delivery of the relic inside its shrine.

This story had to be shared. I contacted Ireland's premier Cricket Historian, Gerard Siggins, of The Sunday Tribune, who wrote it up for his "Inside Edge" section, for 17th August 2008, together with some verses, which, being me, I could not resist inflicting on the literate cricketing world. I allowed the Bat to tell its own story.

 

                         SEVENTY YEARS ON

 

(The bat in this showcase was rescued by the author of these verses in the aftermath of the great flood of the Dodder, ca.1968. It contains the autographs of the members of the 1938 Australian team under Donald Bradman, together with those of the English team for the Oval Test (20th-24th August), when Leonard Hutton scored his then record Test score of 364. This bat had for many years pride of place in the bar of the old Pavilion of the Merrion Cricket Club.)

 

            Some forty years preserved in Dockrell's attic,

            Saved victim of the raging Dodder's flood,

            My showcase sinking to a grave aquatic,

            Joining the wrecked Pavilion in the mud;

            A hand whose owner viewed me with affection

            Today returns me for my resurrection.

 

            My Autographs contain some All Time Greats:

            BRADMAN, O'REILLY, HAMMOND, HUTTON, BARNES:

            Some, who like FLEETWOOD-SMITH, had tragic fates:

            War victims:- WALKER, VERITY and FARNES.

            This Year of Munich - 1938 : (the Czechs were sold out to Hitler on 29th Sept.)

            Last pre-War Ashes tour, bears History's weight.

 

                                    Morgan Dockrell . 2.August 2008

 

            FROM 'POP-SONG CRICKET' TO GRAND OPERA...

                                   

                        That ugly term "male menopause" I'll skip,

                        Describing it as "changement de vie".

                        The state of play established, I'll let rip

                        Upon the transformation now in me.

 

                        WISDEN, farewell! Time was I used to follow

                        The first class scores, an expert on each County.

                        From Grace's prime to Cowdrey's close I'd wallow

                        In WISDEN'S record of this annual bounty.

 

                        But I have seen the Light, like Paul of Tarsus:

                        Because Pop-Cricket Culture is the rage,

                        With 20/20, most abject of farces,

                        Hyped up to strut on cricket's major stage.

 

                        A gentle pastime, fit for geriatrics, (ie Dalkey Archives!)

                        Has now become the Game's chief source for cash.

                        OUT is the pride in centuries and hat-tricks.

                        IN is the satisfaction of a bash.

 

                        The CCC's become devoid of meaning,

                        A system now at sixes and at sevens,

                        Bolstered by foreign short-term stars seen preening

                        Themselves for aiding Commonwealth XIs. (County XIs have lost their identities)

 

                       

                        So, EXIT WISDEN! I've gone hoity toity,

                        In Pastures mainly 'Metty' and 'Bayreuthy'. **

 

                                                HMD. 15.iv.2008

 

Written en route by foot, pre a CT scan at St.Vincent's Hospital. ( time taken: 10.05-10.38) My first experience of being quite literally"a street Poet"! My metrical and physical feet clearly worked in unison!

 

 

** The "Met" (Metropolitan in New York) and the Bayreuth Festival. The two chief Wagner Strongholds.

 

                 

 

MY DREAM-LAUNCH...

  I dream of Waterstonian "launch"

 In (say) one year from now.

 I see myself, with thicker paunch,

 Supported by a few pals staunch,

 Who earn my gracious bow;

 Then launch, with many a jeu d'esprit,

 Upon my favourite Subject:- ME.

 

 Inflated by this ME-NESS theme,

 In Waterstone's grand premises,

 I quote myself, with gleeful gleam,

 Quote critics' praise: this self-esteem,

 This Hubris, leads to Nemesis;

 For from my "pals", with one accord

 I hear: 'YOUR BOOK WE CAN'T AFFORD.

 IN THESE RECESSIONARY TIMES

  WHAT BENEFIT TO US ARE RHYMES?!'

 

  HMD. 25.IV.2009