Restarting Sport

It would appear that Fantasy Bob's intelligence gathering has failed him - the apparent suggestion in his post of 2 days ago that the Hundred would proceed was Fake News.  The powers-that-be have announced today that it will not go ahead this season at all.  The statement does not say that FB's intervention was the deciding factor.  Mind you, neither does it say that it wasn't. 

Whether any cricket will proceed is a matter of continuing discussion.  FB notes that the Government has convened a committee to consider how sport might be safely restarted.  The focus seems to be on high level events and how they could be organised behind close doors with rigorous testing regimes.  For himself FB has not felt the absence of football a particular hardship, indeed it is one of the great benefits of lockdown, and he would view the re-emergence of the game in the summer months with some concern.  Would it ever depart in future summers and what would that mean for cricket?  But beyond the elite level, there seems little consideration as to how lower level sport could restart and that presents all manner of challenges. These are issues for greater minds than FB's to ponder.

FB notes that some consideration is being given as to whether golf might be released from the strict controls.  This does not surprise him.  For his experience of golf is that it conforms to all the requirements of social distance. 

At one time FB was keen on golf and used to play a few holes by himself of a morning or an evening and these were fully compliant with social distance rules.  Face covering would of course have added an extra level of safety but was not strictly necessary.  Even when companions were misguided enough to play with him, these rules were not at risk of being infringed.  The average fairway is perhaps 60 yards wide.  Since FB's  invariably proceeded up the rough on the far side of the fairway next to the fairway that he should be playing on, this means that he was well beyond the strict 2 metre criterion.  Indeed most of FB's golfing time was spent in the wilderness of the deep rough where he could safely stay for days without encountering even at 2 metre distance another human being.  Even face covering was superfluous.

FB recalls one tournament he played in when he topped the ball which skimmed at 6 inches above ground to hit the tee box at the forward tee and ended up 10 yards behind his starting position.  Thus he walked in precisely the opposite direction to his companions.  Social distance prevailed, since his playing partners were not keen to let him catch up. 

But this is not the most embarrassing of FB's many embarrassments on the golf course.  Many years ago when still a student in Aberdeen he got it into his head that he would play golf.  There is no explanation for this.  So he ransacked the cupboards and found a set of clubs of various ages including a couple with hickory shafts and an old canvas bag.  Duly armed, he made his way to Hazlehead Golf Course, paid his dues and took his place in the queue at the first tee. 

As was golfing fashion in those days his co-waiters had brightly checked trousers of various luminous colours.  FB was dowdiness itself.   They might have guessed what was coming.  His turn came.  He placed his ball carefully.  Looked up the fairway to the distant flag.  Waggled his club like he'd seen them do on the TV.  Took what he was sure was a graceful and athletic swing.  Looking up, he could not see his ball flying unerringly to the green.  Looking down, he was surprised to see it unmoved.  He'd missed.  There was a slight sucking of teeth from the other golfers behind.  FB smiled ruefully (there being no other way to smile in such circumstances).  He went through his routine again.  Looking up....well you know that bit.  Looking down, that bit too.  He'd missed again.  The sucking of teeth was louder.  FB's smile went up a notch in the ruefulness scale.  A third attempt - which FB thinks in retrospect might have been his most elegant swing.  But it produced the same result.   A voice from behind him said, 'Keep goin' loon - ye wis quite near it that time.....'  If only face covering had been available in those bygone years.

Masks and Scarves

The recommendation that face coverings should be worn on shopping trips where social distancing is difficult has caused some distress in Fantasy Bob's household.

Mrs FB has examined the guidance with her typical forensic attention and has noted that face covering is not to be interpreted as a mask.  Scarves are suggested as a viable alternative. This has caused her some concern.  Mrs FB has a collection of scarves of the highest quality.  These are not your woolly muffler type things, but high fashion accessories in the finest silk.  The name Hermes crops up repeatedly.

Hermes - La Folle Parade scarf

The Hermes scarf  (to quote an authoritative source) 'has proven its power to transcend age and to appeal to a diverse range of wearers. Famously adopted by icons from Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn to Queen Elizabeth II, Madonna and Mrs FB, the scarf provides the wearer the versatility to adapt to any style and situation.'

This might be an indication that the manufacturers would consider it a suitable aid to the fighting of COVID.  But Mrs FB is not convinced and was anxious enough on this point to have sought FB's opinion.

'Don't you think that popping in for a pint of milk with a Hermes scarf on might be overdressing?'  she asked.

Overdressing is not a concept with which FB is overly familiar, his understanding being limited to whether one or two sweaters would be appropriate to the climactic conditions.  So he wasn't able to offer much by way of help.  He mumbled as much.  This did not endear him to his life partner who, amidst speculation as to why she had bothered, suggested that his response simply confirmed a long track record of general uselessness on questions of fashion and probably most other things while she was at it. 

As silence resumed, FB returned to his own worries.  He too has examined the guidance and has noted that there is nothing said as to how this new requirement will apply to cricketers.  He is sure that expert guidance will be forthcoming. He is sure the science will be followed.  But for now  Clarity is in short supply on what appears to him the most pressing issue. What are the implications of face coverings for the cricket tea?

It is time the SAGE committee donned its facial coverings and addressed this vital issue.

Coloratura

Fantasy Bob recognises that he should be using his evenings wisely.  Current circumstances preclude further honing his world famous in-swinger beyond its present state of perfection. 

He should therefore making the most of time by for example studying Wisden to improve his uncertain understanding of the roots of the game.  This would, after all, be an investment worth making - it would add considerably to his allure as and when the authorities allow dinner parties to recommence (whether under an adaptation of physically distancing rules or free-form).  Even as it is, there are times when Mrs FB has had to beg him to cease his fascinating discourse on such matters as Bapu Nadkarni's record 21 consecutive maiden overs simply because the company found it just too entertaining - at least that's what he thinks she said.  But with a little applied study he is sure he could find more conversational gold to fascinate.

FB was therefore a little surprised when Mrs FB tore the yellow volume from his grasp and bade him enjoy the live streaming by the Metropolitan Opera of Rossini's La Cenerentola.  This may be a very entertaining retelling of the Cinderella story but there was little of interest to the cricketer in it, as far as FB could see.

But what there is is coloratura singing of the highest order - and lots of it.  This is singing with highly elaborate ornamentation.  Its cricketing equivalent might possibly be an innings by AB deVilliers where ramps, scoops and reverse sweeps dazzle and delight.  Or a spell by Shane Warne where anything can happen.

Here then is the AB deVilliers of the Met, the wonderful Ms Joyce diDonato in the very final aria from La Cenerentola.

Superb.  How much net practice did it take her to be able to do that?

Easing Lockdown

As attention turns to how the lockdown might be eased, discussions are taking place on how to restart cricket.  The well advertised security weaknesses of Zoom mean that Fantasy Bob was able to listen into the ECB's recent deliberations.

OK chaps that's it then, no cricket until July at the earliest.

Perfect.

And all matches will be behind closed doors.

Excellent.  Is it gin o'clock yet?

But we are agreed that the most important thing is to save the Hundred.

The Hundred yes!  We must have the Hundred!

[A chant of Hundred, Hundred, Hundred breaks out].

We've just about got the rules sorted out.

And we've hired the dancing girls.

Yes, we must have the Hundred.

It's going to bring the crowds back.

Er......I thought you said matches had to be behind closed doors.

[There is an extended silence]

Must be gin o'clock by now.

Look, chaps, I have a text here from someone asking what we are doing about the County Championship.

The what?

The County Championship.  You know when the counties play each other for days.

Why would they do that?

I suppose they can't think of anything else to do.

Haven't we told them about the Hundred?  Maybe they could join that.

No, no.  We've got the franchises for that.

I didn't think the Frenchies played cricket.

Franchises, not Frenchies. Anyway, about this County Championship thingy.  Apparently it takes ages and this chappie says that since the winter usually starts in August, we should be thinking of getting the matches played abroad.

Excellent.  I was rather hoping for a couple of weeks in Tuscany.

A Photograph

Approaching 2 trillion photographs are estimated to be taken each year.  It may be that current restrictions will reduce that number this year, as hordes of tourists will no longer stampede through museums madly snapping everything in front of them.  But images of cats and dogs doing lovable things probably will make up much of that number.  Shots of cricketers practicing in inappropriate locations are also on the rise.

In this context, it is hard to imagine that at one time the average lower league cricketer could go through his or her entire career without so much as a Kodak Instamatic being pointed in their direction.  They might feature in that once in a season team shot, proudly standing in the back row, arms folded, cap askew and face mostly obscured by the player in front.  But that is it.  Action shots were confined to the pros.

So, as the rigours of lockdown forced him into some overdue spring cleaning, Fantasy Bob was charmed to discover the photo above - it is the only pre-digital image of him in action (to stretch the meaning of the word to its limits). 

It shows him in pre-delivery stride in an evening match some time in the early 1990s.  He is playing for SHHD (Scottish Home and Health Department) against Edinburgh University Staff at Peffermill.  FB turned out for SHHD week in week out for many years.  He is one of a handful who achieved the double for the club - 1000 runs and 100 wickets.  Loyal readers will realise that at his slow rate of success he must have turned out for many many years to accumulate such figures.

At that time, there were several teams affiliated to various parts of the civil service, including DAFS (now amalgamated with Murrayfield), RBG and the Forestry Commission.  Not all who played had residential qualifications for the teams and ringers were regularly encountered. Rivalries were strong and the Civil Service Sports Ground at Muirhouse had two grass wickets.  But every Thursday during the season - and some other days too, there were fixtures.  Good times.

To his shame, FB does not know if SHHD CC is still in existence - things were changing even then. If FB recalls correctly, the photo was taken for an article in the office newsletter inviting new members.  It is not clear who bears responsibility for thinking that an image of FB was likely to do anything for recruitment.  The files may never be opened.  Clearly it had limited impact.  Shortly after this photo was taken FB could be found turning out of an evening for Currie and Balerno CC.   His association with Carlton was still some years away - it took them sometime to accumulate the cash for the transer fee. 

Edinburgh University Staff CC continue to play and were it not for current restrictions, FB would expect to be playing against them this season.

Cricket is no longer played on that part of Peffermill, which is now a 3G rugby and football pitch.  At that time there were two high quality squares at Peffermill.  Rumours abound that  the remaining cricket pitch will no longer be available, as the University seeks more lucrative activities. Another cricket venue lost. They may be richer, but we are all poorer. 

Season Opener

Photos thanks to Hugh Parker 

It's a cracking spring day in Edinburgh.  It couldn't be better for the opening fixtures of the Eastern Premier League.  Fantasy Bob had long planned to be watching Carlton take on last year's champions Forfarshire at their Edinburgh ground, Grange Loan.  An enticing prospect. 

But other things have intervened.  The ground lies empty.  To make things even worse FB has penned a few verses.

All is silence at Grange Loan today

Not a sound nor the murmur of play

Social distancing rules must hold sway

All is silence at Grange Loan today

Sweet smells the grass the cherry trees bloom

But no banter fills the home changing room 

All is dark all is cold just like the tomb

All is silence at Grange Loan today

The wicket is firm the outfield fast

The sun may be bright but shadows cast

Come only from those ghosts of the past

All is silence at Grange Loan today

Memories can warm but they cannot sustain

All these lost days we won't get again

The future's deferred till the virus is slain

All is silence at Grange Loan today

Dream that the silence soon lifts from the ground

Dream that the juniors soon swarm around

Dream that soon there's tea to be found

And the gates of Grange Loan will be open that day

Spit and Polish

As the ECB announce that there will be no cricket before 1 July, the world has yet to hear the International Cricket Council's thoughts about when top level matches might restart.  However it should not be thought that  the ICC has been idle during lockdown.  Far from it, as this intercepted transcript of part of a Zoom meeting held earlier this week shows.

.......so, we have no idea when it will be safe to play cricket again.

No, but when we do, some things will have to change.

We must think of player safety.

Why, we never did before.  They're not going to start injecting themselves with bleach?

Please, this is serious. 

So is President Trump.

We must think about saliva.  Do you know how much is produced in a single match? Gallons. Cubic litres.

Don't tell me.  You want to bottle and sell it - I don't think that's going to be money spinner you imagine.

No - it's germ laden.  Virus ridden.  You could catch anything off it.  And bowlers use it to polish the ball which gets tossed around - sometimes people in the crowd catch it.  Slimy wet with saliva.

That's no way to talk about the spectators.

No, the ball. 

We can't ban balls from the game.

No, but our subcommittee had a great idea - we get the umpires to do the polishing

Why? Is their saliva not infectious?

Are we going to get them to drink bleach?

I'm sure some of them do already.

No, no.  We will have officially sanctioned ball polishing intervals.

Intervals.  You know what that means.

Yes, advertising breaks.

And we could get a sponsor.

Cherry Blossom shoe polish......

Cilt...

Brillo pads...

Bleach....

Anything! As long as they pay. 

More money!

[Loud applause and barking of dogs]

Somewhere in Sheffield

Fantasy Bob was amused to see the story of a package bearing the address Somewhere in Sheffield found its way to its intended recipient through the diligence of the Post Office.  This is heartwarming stuff.

There is a long and complicated tale behind this story, which FB needn't dwell on here.  The tale did not seem to shed any light on his assumption that the sender must be a lower league cricketer. FB cannot see how it could be otherwise.  For 'somewhere' is a word much used in lower league cricket.  Used to the point of exhaustion in fact.  As a long serving skipper in lower league cricket FB has heard it used more times than he cares to remember.  He wakes in the middle of the night with it ringing in his ears.

He will bring a bowler on.   Generally in lower league cricket most bowlers are quite proficient in placing 3 or 4 members of the field.   They know they need a wicket keeper.  Their sense of self worth demands that they have a slip, even though the last time they took a wicket through finding the edge was when the Gillette Cup was still a thing.  They will have heard of cover because that was where Jonty Rhodes fielded, but after that things get a little vaguer. 

FB will try a little coaxing, 'And where do you fancy putting Ben?'

'Um...' and with a broad sweep of his arm his bowler will mumble,   'somewhere over there.' 

And thus it goes on until as the sun begins to descend, all the fielders are in position - somewhere. 

There are variations on this. The bowler might think he is helping in suggesting a fielder is placed, 'Somewhere square, long, fine leggish.' priding himself on his grasp of cricketing terminology but unaware that the precision of his statement is deceptive, covering as does around 500 square yards of vacant territory.

'Somewhere - there.' seems even more precise, until it is realised that the bowler is facing in the opposite direction with head down, feverishly scratching his mark.  He is now tired of this exercise and wishes to substitute anywhere for somewhere. It probably makes little difference

Looking up at the fielders, all now somewhere, FB may feel a bit of fine adjustment is called for and will consult his bowler again.  'And what line will you be bowling?'  'Um....somewhere ....off peg.....leg stumpish.....kind of thing ..  Definitely..... somewhere there......  Somewhere.....  Yes.'  The bowler responds with confidence.

It is not much better batting.  FB will come to the crease.  Wickets have fallen quickly.  He needs to shore things up. Any intelligence is helpful.  'What length is he bowling then,' he asks, bringing his batting partner back to the humdrum world from the dreamland he has spent the last 10 minutes in.

He vaguely recognises his skipper and gathers his wits, 'Eh?  Oh?'  and with a vague gesture with his bat he will say, 'Somewhere.... kind of there....somewhere.'

Compared to this, 'Somewhere in Sheffield' has exactitude.  On reflection therefore, FB has revised his assumption.  Such exactitude means that no lower league cricketer could have sent the package

The Pillow Challenge

Fantasy Bob's handful of worldwide readers must prepare for disappointment. 

As a social media celebrity, FB thought it incumbent on him to follow the latest trend by such of his ilk,and take on the pillow challenge (or #pillowchallenge as it is popularly known).  This is indeed an exacting challenge in which all social media celebrities show their unyielding concern for, and commitment to improving, the lot of their fellow non-celebrities.  The heart warms just thinking of the sacrifice they make.

The challenge involves being photographed wearing nothing but a pillow fastened around the waist with a belt. Some incredibly brave challengers go further and accessorise with a handbag or a hat, courageously allowing the brand name to be discerned.  Instagram then spreads these heart-rending images round the world.  And we are all saved.

FB found his pillow with relative ease and his belt.  He decided to accessorise with his trusty Gray Nicholls Nitro.  He was ready.  The snag was that he is not all that great on the selfie thing - his first  attempt was spoiled by his thumb blocking the the lens, and several more took convincing images of the floor or the ceiling but  failed to catch FB's alluring pose - far less give any hint of the pillow.  He was in need of assistance. 

He therefore inquired whether Mrs FB would be so kind as to take the all important photograph.  The force of her answer did not seem commensurate with the politeness of his request.  But it was as nothing compared to her response when he suggested she might like to pose herself. 

She left the room with some emphasis, the exclamation mark hanging in the air behind her.  Her parting words cut him to the quick, 'By the way, that belt doesn't work, your pillow is slipping.'   As FB looked down in verification, his ensemble finally gave way and the pillow slid to the floor. 

With a sigh FB abandoned his project, realising that there were levels of heroism and commitment to which he could only aspire.  The level of skill that the social media celebrity brought to tasks such as the #pillowchallenge remains a wonder.

Readers may temper their disappointment by looking at this picture of FB's pillow and Gray Nichols Nitro.  With little imagination they will see what they missed.

April is the Cruellest Month

It is cruel.  The sun has been shining brightly for the last few days.  Cricketers on house arrest look longingly out.  They step out for their Government sanctioned walk to discover the wind is coming straight off the Arctic and it is seriously cold.  Like freezing.   They dash inside again to don several more layers. Five sweater weather. What more of a reminder could there be that the cricket season is on the point of starting?  Or would be.  Were things not as they are.  Doubly cruel.

Fantasy Bob reminds himself that in normal circumstances he would be shivering at nets tonight.  He would once again be perfecting his inability to play leg spin bowling by pitting his unrivaled technique against the latest in a long line of 11- year-olds developed by his club - the go-ahead Edinburgh outfit Carlton - expressly for the purpose of humiliating him in the nets.  FB assumes that this objective is written deep within the coach's contract, so dependable is the conveyor belt.

Grange Loan - ready and waiting

It is cruel to think that nets would have been underway for several weeks now, so FB's technique would be well-honed.  Granted, he would still miss the ball by a mile, but his technique would be well-honed.  The better honed his technique, the greater the distance between his bat and the ball.  It is an invariable law - maybe undiscovered by Isaac Newton, but with all the rigour of any of the laws of thermodynamics.  Without the thermo, given the temperature.  And not all that dynamic either in FB's case.  But still a law.

At least at batting practice FB can wear gloves, which slow the progress of frostbite in his fingers.  But there is no such comfort when fielding practice starts.  After a long close season it is always surprising to discover again how hard a cricket ball is, particularly when the coach blasts it from 3 yards.  Catching practice FB can just about do, although the risk of broken fingers - or fingers blue with cold snapping clean off - is huge.  But the ground fielding exercises pit players young enough to be his grandchildren against him.  It's amazing how well they do.  FB is not sure why he takes part in fielding practice, since he gave up fielding in matches a long time ago.

Lest you think that FB is not a fan of nets, he loves them.  Not the practicey bits, obviously, but having been stuck inside in an office all day, simply to be outside for a couple of hours is bliss.  And to come home smelling of the fresh air, is heaven.  Yes, missing net practice this year is cruel.

Burpees

One of the excitements of the lockdown for Fantasy Bob's neighbours must be to hear, or watch, him do his daily work-out in the garden.  FB is sure that, with live action non-existent, he is providing a valuable entertainment service. 

The burpee - please note the model shown is not FB 

What his audience enjoys most of all could be FB's idiosyncratic interpretation of that killer exercise known as the burpee.  FB never wondered about its name - perhaps it was something to with the two bodily functions mentioned?  No.  It is named after its inventor, an American physiologist who rejoiced in the name Royal H Burpee.  Imagine if he had a sensible name like Royal H Torture - then the exercise would have been accurately named.  Imagine also inventing an exercise deemed the ultimate exercise.

Although a keen gymnophile, FB limits his exposure to the burpee.  But during lockdown he is joining more structured classes than normally and the burpee features more often than not. So he reckons he may have done more burpees in these few weeks of lockdown than he has ever done.

In one recent work-out he was required to do burpees non-stop for 3 minutes.  If a week is a long time in politics, then 3 minutes of burpees is approaching eternity.  FB got to the high 30's.  The neighbours turned away at what they thought was such a dismal performance.

They might have applauded with rapture.  The world record for burpees is 5,657 in 12 hours, approximately 470 per hour, a mere 8 per minute.  FB was therefore on schedule to smash that world record.

If only he had kept going for another 11 hours and 57 minutes.  He was that close.

One World

Fantasy Bob has to confess that he did not watch the 8 hours of the One World: Together at Home streaming last night.  The Metropolitan Opera's streaming of Madame Butterfly rather got in the way.

FB wholly approves of One World's objective and if the organisers had paid attention he might have been tempted to watch, even though the majority of the performers were wholly unknown to him.  Had there been a cricketer or two on the bill, he might have left Madame Butterfly to her own despair.  But the organisers were found sadly wanting and no cricketers had been invited to strut their stuff.   It is disappointing that they had not caught up with the rapid musical progress that Joe Root has made (see FB's post of 4 days ago).  Joe would surely have been a worthy addition to the line-up. 

As it is, the nearest the event came to a cricketer might have been Mick Jagger - or Sir Mick Jagger as his family like to call him.  Sir Mick is an acknowledged cricket fan and is often seen hob-nobbing at Lords.  But he blew the opportunity to bring a little cricket into the show - The Stones performed You Can't Always Get What You Want which isn't really a cricket song.  It was Elton John - Sir Elton to his family - who put some decent cricketing content out with a rendition from his garden of his tribute to Dickie Bird and Billy Bowden - I'm Still Standing.

Even without Joe Root, there are many cricketers who might have been able to parade their musical skills.  Here are 5 (click the name for a sample of their musical offering).

Curtly Ambrose, or Sir Curtly as he is known to his family - he is Knight Commander of the Order of the Nation in his home Antigua, may no longer terrify batsmen but he has for many years played bass in his band Spirited.

Brett Lee, by some oversight yet to be knighted, has played in a number of bands but during the Champions Trophy in 2006 also recorded a song with Bollywood star Asha Bhosle. 

Dwayne Bravo, also yet to be knighted, wrote and record Champion which almost became the anthem of the 2016 T20 World Cup.

AB de Villiers (ibid) released an album in 2010.

Mark Butcher (ibid) has pursued a recording career since leaving cricket.

Now none of these musical offerings is exactly to FB's taste, so they may not have tempted him from Madame Butterfly anyway.  Maybe the organisers knew what they were doing after all, but it would have been fun to have the choice.

Liberate Michigan

However some commentators are ramping up the pressure for an early end to the lockdown.  While Fantasy Bob would not have been surprised if cricketers were significant among their number - for they are increasingly eager to get back on the field of play as the weather slowly becomes more spring like, he must acknowledge that there is an obvious absence of cricketing credentials in the loudest voices advocating this policy.   It is unlikely that many of them would walk when they nicked off. 

Cricketers by and large are sensible persons and even the most desperate to feel the bat on the ball again might, in current circumstances, have pause to think before packing their kit and heading off to nets with several thousand others in close proximity.

And yet the normally genial President of the USA has encouraged his supporters to do just that and wills them to acts of insurrection against the laws of cricket (and of lesser importance possibly also the laws of the USA). 'Liberate Michigan,' he screams on Twitter, as his supporters stage rallies in which they run on the wicket, tamper with the ball and openly disregard the umpire's authority.  That they require to carry automatic weapons to do this seems against the spirit of cricket.

Fantasy Bob is by no means an expert on captaincy, as anyone who has played under him will readily attest.  Nevertheless he feels that this is a radical departure from the sort of captaincy that Mike Brearley might recognise.  Batting on what is most definitely a bowl first wicket, FB can just about understand, but this is something beyond that. 

There are many conclusions FB could come to in observing these behaviours.  The one thing of which he is sure is that had Mr Trump an understanding of cricket, an appreciation of its laws and a feeling for the spirit of the game, his fellow citizens might be less likely to lose early wickets.

Darts or Cricket?

Darts fans in the Hollies stand

Fantasy Bob was interested to see that in these live-sport deprived days, there is one competitive sport that is surviving.  Darts. 

Players don't need to be in the same room - they can play against each other in the safety of their own abodes while streaming the match to dedicated fans.  A 32 night tournament featuring the best players in the world is in prospect.  It will lack the authentic beer-fuelled chant-filled atmosphere (sadly reminiscent of modern Test crowds).  Instead matches will become quiet and contemplative.  Will this commend it to the sporting audience most attracted by such qualities - the traditional cricket supporter?  For FB and his ilk, the quieter and more contemplative a cricket match is the better.

In the early days of lockdown, many cricketers on social media tried to demonstrate indoor versions of the game.  Sadly, none seems to provide the basis for a consistently engaging  tournament.  But then neither do the rules of the Hundred.  So cricket fans, who want a respite from the endless replays of matches long past, have few alternatives.

On the face of it there is little in common between darts and cricket - the bent arm throw is obligatory in one and an object for litigation in the other.  While T20 kits have approached absurdity in design and colour, they still lag a long way behind the traditional dart player's shirt.  Hair styles in cricket can also be objects of wonder.  Rory Burns' consistently appalling styling may cause ripples of incredulity, but it is as nothing compared to Peter Snakebite Wright and his multi-coloured Mohican.

Despite these differences, there is an exciting possibility.  There is a variation of darts called cricket. There is a batting and a bowling side. Just like like the real thing.  The bowling side takes wickets by hitting the bull, while the batting side tries to amass as many runs as possible by getting treble 20s.

Peter Snakebite Wright

The sports governing bodies need to get together.  There is a great opportunity for a new hybrid sport here. FB is sure this could take off.  After all, many off spinners have been throwing darts for years. They would be naturals.   Any team with Snakebite and Ben Stokes would be unbeatable.  Rory Burns could take his hair to the next level.

Some consideration of bowling actions might be necessary and there would have to be control of run ups.  But these are mere technicalities.  Ashes series are in prospect.

Test match cricket-darts - the sporting gift of lockdown.

Rory Burns - can take his hair to the next level

Badge

In a startling new initiative announced today the Government launched an imaginative scheme to show cricketers how much the nation has to thank them for all they have done in recent weeks.

All cricketers will be entitled to wear the badge shown above.  It is hand crafted from genuine plastic and is expected to become a collector's item.

A spokesperson said, 'This is the kind of initiative which shows just the kind of people we are.....' before drying up and leaving the scene of the announcement in haste.

Cricketers were unavailable for comment.  Most are still repairing living room windows shattered by enthusiastic but inappropriate indoor practice.

Fantasy Bob looks forward to receiving his badge and will wear it with pride.  But for his generation the word Badge is irrevocably associated with the 60s super-group Cream and the song composed by Eric Clapton and George Harrison.

It is not clear whether the Badge referred to was conferred for cricketing or for caring.  Or indeed for caring about cricket.

But it's still a great track - try it here.

Fantasy Bob and Joe Root - so much in common

Which cricketer are you most like during lockdown? 

So ran a piece of clickbait on BBCSport, which under current constraints has been amalgamated with the History Channel.

Fantasy Bob, adventurous and inquisitive as always, took up the challenge.

He answered a series of questions and a couple of minutes later he was told he is Joe Root.  Of course, who else would he be?

Strangely the analysis does not mention the similarity between FB's and Joe's cover drive, far less the forcing shot behind off the back foot behind point.

No, he was told, 'You’re distracting yourself from the lack of cricket by getting creative and keeping up with the hobbies. You’re just like Joe Root who has been playing the guitar.'

The page gives a link to Tweet from Joe Root himself showing off his new found skill.  Readers may be interested to learn that Root plays left-handed.  Just like Jimi Hendrix.  The comparison ends there.  Jimi Hendrix's cover drive was a bit of a mess, if the truth be told.

Anyway FB has been playing the guitar for longer than he can remember and can get himself through the odd bit of Bach Scarlatti or Rev Gary Davis without the help of the emergency services.  But sadly he is no Jimi Hendrix either.

But if FB is no Joe Root at the crease, Joe is no Fantasy Bob on the guitar.  Honours even!

PS - ignore the sarcasm, FB is really most impressed by Joe putting his new found skill up for public view.  Good on him!

A Conspiracy

There appears to be a conspiracy against conspiracy theories.  A broadcaster with the unlikely name of Sherlock Holmes, and of whose existence Fantasy Bob has previously been oblivious, has been getting it in the neck for appearing to suggest that the theory about the coronavirus and 5G technology might be worthy of discussion.

If FB understands this theory, it has it that the present pandemic is not attributable to new deadly virus but is the product of the 5G telecoms network. It is a high level (as all conspiracies are) conspiracy against Western economies by the Chinese facilitated by a conspiracy of silence against this self-evident fact.  Adherents of the theory are engaged in burning down the transmission masts to stop the spread of the disease.

They are also warning against the use of Bank of England £20 notes, since they bear 5G symbolism and are therefore of obvious danger.  The Bof E, and by implication the Government of the UK, are therefore part of the conspiracy.

Of course, the fact that reputable scientists are denying these claims as hokum (to use the scientific term) only entrenches the views of adherents.  On the whole FB is on the side of reputable scientists on this issue - as on most issues. The claims of the conspiracists seem unlikely.

Or so he thought until he chanced upon a tweet by one Tiffani Cyr.  Ms Cyr appears to be a God fearing resident of Florida and an admirer of the present incumbent of the Oval Office.  Let that not count against her, for she also appears to be an accomplished historian and her tweet (which she may or may not have originated) brings a proper historical perspective to this issue.

She notes how technological development in radio frequencies has invariably been followed by the outbreak of disease - starting from the 1916 development of radio waves followed by the Spanish flu pandemic.

This got FB thinking. He drew up his own chart on Ms Cyr's design.  It revealed some startling facts.

1916 emergence of Radio Waves

1918 - FB unable to play leg spin bowling

2003 - 3G introduced to the world

2003 - FB unable to play leg spin bowling

2009 - 4G introduced to the world

2009 - FB unable to play leg spin bowling

2019/20 - 5G introduced to the world

2019/20 - FB unable to play leg spin bowling

Need FB say more.  It is a conspiracy.

Hundred Acre Wood CC in lockdown

 Fantasy Bob realises it is some time since he heard of how things are going at the Hundred Acre Wood CC. ...

The lockdown in the Hundred Acre Wood had come at a bad time for the cricket club. Pooh and all the other animals were strictly confined to their houses.  Nets had been cancelled. The season was postponed.  With the assistance of Christopher Robin, who was regarded as a key worker, a team meeting was being held over Zoom.

Social distance is difficult
 for a bear of little brain

Rabbit, a bossy animal and skipper of the Hundred Acre Wood CC, was speaking.  Rabbit was generally cross.   At that moment he was talking to Pooh which made him even crosser.  And when he spoke he liked to wave his arms around in a skipperly fashion which meant he kept knocking his iPad over.  This made him crosser still.

'Pooh', he said very crossly, 'you have to turn your camera round, all we can see is your feet.'

'Did you say it's time for something to eat?'

'No!'  Rabbit was even crosser now.  'Press the little button with a camera on it.'

Pooh's feet disappeared from view.

'For goodness sake!  Not that one!  The other one - you've turned the camera off completely!'

A little voice piped up.  It was Piglet who was a very small animal and not very brave when it came to technology.

'Pooh has disappeared.  I hope he's not dead.'

'Of course he's not dead!' said Rabbit.

'It wouldn't surprise me if he was.' Eyeore's gloomy voice sounded even gloomier than usual over the internet.    'I hear there's a lot of it about.'

Rabbit waved both arms with a sense of purpose.  Feeling better as a result, he tried to get the meeting started.

'Now, as you all know, the cricket season won't be starting till this lockdown is over.  But it's vitally important that we stay fit for when the season eventually starts.'

'Why?' Pooh appeared to still be in audio contact.

Rabbit sighed crossly, but carried on.  'So, everyone, let's do twenty burpees.'

Rabbit limbered up and started to count, 'One...'  He didn't notice the message that came on his screen to say that Pooh has left the meeting.

'Two.'  Piglet has left the meeting.

'Three.'  Eyeore has left the meeting.

Getting crosser and crosser, and hotter and hotter, Rabbit, with a great deal of effort, got to twenty.  'TWENTY!' he said with a note of triumph.  He looked up.  He could see himself but no one else.  Crossly he pressed gallery view.  Still no-one.

'Bother!' he said.  'I must speak to Christopher Robin about my broadband!'

Later that evening Piglet phoned Pooh.

'I didn't like to ask Rabbit what kind of animal a burpee is - it sounds very scary'

'It's not an animal, little friend, it's an exercise.  You fall on your tummy and then you get up again.'

'Why?'

'I don't know.  You should ask Rabbit.'

There was a pause.

'I don't think that would be wise.  Good night, Pooh.  Stay safe.'

'Good night, Piglet, little friend.  Stay safe.'

Gotterdamerung at Headingley

Stokes - the moment of victory

Fantasy Bob's worldwide audience were scandalised yesterday to learn that he was not glued to the repeat of Test Match Special's commentary of the final day of the epic Headingley Test last summer.  Accusations of dereliction of duty are being made.  Legal advice is being taken.

FB is glad that so many enjoyed it and found it a welcome diversion from the cricket deprivation that current conditions are causing.  And he enjoyed some of the twitterating by fans pretending to be listening for the first time and expressing dismay at the fall of each English wicket or agonising over the DRS's.  Good fun seems to have been had by all.  But it wasn't for FB. After all, he knew the result.

He recalled how the events of that August Sunday afternoon last year.  FB had been watching the live transmission falling further into despondency with the clatter of each English wicket.  The outcome seemed clear.  There was only one team going to win.

Just after Jofra Archer had holed out he was summoned by Mrs FB.  'Time to go,' she said.  For they had tickets for the Edinburgh Festival's unmissable concert performance of Gotterdamerung.  Stuart Broad in next? Gotterdamerung seemed only too accurate a description what he had just been watching.  So, resigned to the inevitable, he killed the TV and set off to the Usher Hall for what was an exceptional evening's music.

At the first interval, an acquaintance said to him 'How about the cricket then?'  'Don't tell me,' he replied gloomily, before going on to speculate as to why Siegfried was so easily taken in by Hagen.  At the second interval, another acquaintance accosted him, 'How about the cricket then?'  Once more FB gloomily silenced them, before going on to venture that the horn chorale accompanying dawn rising after Hagen's sleep scene had been particularly well played.  The drama inexorably made its way to its climax - and Brunnhilde, as she always does, threw herself on Siegfried's funeral pyre, bringing an end to Valhalla and all the corrupted ways of the Gods to offer redemption and the hope of a new start.  It is truly overwhelming.

After the applause had died, and the audience had dispersed, FB was on the bus home when yet another acquaintance asked him, 'What about the cricket then.'  Again he responded dolefully, turning the conversation to Christine Goerke's majestic rendering of Brunnhilde's immolation.

Goerke - the moment of victory

Wandering home from the bus stop, FB wondered why so many had asked him about the cricket.   He is after all accustomed to being totally ignored.  Could something have happened?  He dismissed the thought as fantasy.  After all Stuart Broad had been next in, then Leach. 

Out of duty more than anything, he sat down to watch the highlights with only half an eye. That soon turned to full attention as he saw the match turn on its head by Stoke's outrageous batting, Leach's phlegmatic defence, Lyon's missed run out and Paine's wasted DRSs.  Fantastic.  But unrepeatable. 

FB would happily watch or listen to Gotterdamerung again and again (the Edinburgh performance  was actually broadcast on Radio 3 a couple of months later).  He knows the result but the drama and its ending overwhelms him every time. It is always new, always raw.  He might admire Stoke's skills and nerve - and he agrees that the Headingley Test was special, but he knows the result and there is no way it can overwhelm him again.  At the risk of antagonising further his already outraged fans worldwide, it is just another repeat.

Sevens

On the whole Fantasy Bob is finding the current absence of all top level sport of little concern.  As sports have become overly dominated by financial considerations and retreated behind pay-walls his once obsessive interest has waned.  But there is one top level event which should have happened today and which he will miss greatly. The Melrose Sevens. 

For many years he and Mrs FB have taken their place in the centre stand at the Greenyards and Mrs FB has even been spotted by keen TV watchers as she beams in the background to pictures of agonised coaches on the touchline.  It is a great day out - an iconic setting (blessed in recent years by sunhine), a good humoured crowd out to enjoy all in front of them.  Non-stop and compelling action from 11am to 7pm.  Good honest endeavour.  Rare skills and occasional bloopers.  This has been a top level event in which the grass roots level of the game are show-cased.  Guest teams from the higher levels may go on to win the trophy but they are not given an easy passage.

The Greenyards on 7s day -
the commentators always point
out the backdrop of the Eildons

This is an event organised and managed by volunteers - the unavoidable cancellation will bear hard on them for all the long hours they have put into preparation.  This year in particular for big changes were afoot.  With the introduction of semi-professional rugby in Scotland and the continuing growth of Sevens on the international stage, Melrose took a bold step to push the tournament to the next level.  A 4 day Festival was on offer with different competitions and lots of socialising.  A gleam in the eye is the possibility of attracting a World Sevens event.  Why not?  Traditionalists did of course look askance and were horrified.  It'll never work they moaned into their beer.  We shall never know - or at least we shall have to wait to know.

In the absence of the event itself FB, would like to share some footage of one of the stars who lit up recent tournaments.  He certainly quickened Mrs FB's pulse on many occasions.  Not that FB was jealous for his pulse was racing too.

Austin Lockington, a South African who made his home in the Borders  and for many years thrilled Melrose supporters everytime he got the ball in his hands.  His sidestep was as devastating as anything in the game at any level.  He could go off either leg - sometimes both at the same time.  The sevens were his platform.  Today his day.

Lockie was also a cricketer of some talent - his side step being particularly useful in avoiding his  batting partner in the quick single.

Now rumoured to be enjoying life in Australia - but fondly remembered by all at the Greenyards.

This link will take you to some footage of his magic.

Lockington bobbing and weaving

Clap Your Hands

These Thursday evening claps are thought provoking in many ways.  The debt is clear.  How can clapping ever be enough? 

As Fantasy Bob stood at his front door yesterday, a range of emotions came across his mind.  He began to think of his own debt to the NHS and all those who work in it.  He was prompted particularly by a casual conversation earlier in the day in which he learned that the New Economics Foundation had, a number of years ago, done a load of number crunching and come to the conclusion that 1976 was the best year in the UK for quality of life. 

Now 1976 was an interesting one for FB.  He was in a bit of a limbo - he had graduated the previous year, had started a PhD but had left after a term when a broken ankle on the rugby field knocked his already low spirits flat.  He returned to Aberdeen, tail between legs. 

Back on both feet, he got a job in social care as a House Parent at what was then described as an Assessment Centre with Secure Facilities.  It was where troubled teenagers were held while the Children's Panel deliberated over their fate.  There was no extensive disclosure process or vetting.  FB simply went to see the Director of Social Work and was on the job the next day. 

Secure facilities meant that all doors and windows were locked. On his second morning, as he walked up the hill from the bus stop he saw one of the inmates running across an adjacent field absconding.  He gave chase, collared the lad and brought him back.  A legend - sort of  - was born.

This is not the point of this story, although there are many things that could be said about his experiences as a care worker they are for another time.

Aberdeen Royal Infirmary - home for 2 months

Some months later FB woke up with a pain in his abdomen.  He went off to do his duty, thinking he just had a spot of indigestion.  All day the pain nagged.  In the early evening, he was playing football with the lads, but he had to withdraw to be violently sick.  The doctor came in the middle of the night and he was ambulanced to hospital.  He did not leave it for another 2 months.  FB will not describe all the details of what ailed him - suffice it to say that when he eventually did leave he weighed a mere 9 stone, and he'd put significant weight on in the last two weeks of his stay. It was a close run thing by all accounts - his parents, he learned later, were convinced that they had lost him. 

Also a film

1976 was the hottest summer on record and FB could only look longingly at the sizzling heat outside his window - elsewhere cricket was happening. 

As he slowly returned to life, a small TV was brought to FB's bedside and he could watch the Test Matches. His attempts to explain, mid bed bath, the wonders of cricket to the nurses were on the whole unsuccessful.  But the cricket was something to behold. Even in black and white the outfields looked scorched.  And there was scorching play too.

That summer brought the West Indies under Clive Lloyd.  His illness had meant that FB missed all the controversy about the following Tony Grieg's unwise grovel interview.   But he joined the action for the final Tests.  It was the start of the West Indies period of dominance, so well described in the book the Fire in Babylon.  The unrelenting assault by quick bowling complemented the dazzling batting of Lloyd himself and Richards and Greenidge.  Blistering.  No wonder the study found it was the best year.

And FB agrees - for it was a year he survived and learned many important lessons.  Not how to play leg spin bowling obviously, but much else.

So FB has more cause than most to thank the NHS and all who looked after him at that time.

Clapping on a Thursday evening - how can it ever be enough?

Declaration

Fantasy Bob has noted some coverage in the media of late about the Declaration of Arbroath. As ever, interest piqued by the possibility of a cricketing story, and eager to find out who Arbroath had been playing  and whether their Declaration had set up the possibility of an exciting end to the match, he succumbed to the clickbait.

The Declaration of Arbroath - it didn't set up a run chase

Of course he understood his error immediately. There was not the slightest cricketing interest in what he read - not surprisingly, given that this particular Declaration was made in 1320. The Declaration of Arbroath is a  missive to Pope John, endorsed by 39 of the most powerful Scottish barons and earls, and pleads for the Pope’s support for Robert the Bruce and for help in the continuing wars of independence. Its most famous lines are still stirring even after 700 years. ‘It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom, for
that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.' That is what occupation of the crease is about.  Notwithstanding this rousing sentiment, the Declaration is far from an assertion of democratic ambition. 

Be that as it may, the lack of cricketing interest in the article did not stop FB’s dwindling collection of brain cells from musing on declarations of the cricketing sort. For the declaration is unique to cricket – in no other sport has one side the opportunity to stop what it is successfully doing in order to give the other a go.  It would be absurd for a football team to say, ‘Well, we’ve scored enough goals now, we’re going to let you have the ball and see if you get as many.’

Joe Root in declarative mode

The declaration these days features only in the Test and First Class levels of the game, but many moons ago when FB started playing senior cricket, the declaration was a thing even in the lower leagues. In those days matches were defined by the number of total overs. The side batting first could bat for 50% of those overs plus or minus 5. The side batting second would have the remaining overs. So the side batting first could  have extra overs to bowl the opposition out or they could stoke up their own total and give the opposition a harder chase. In those days, bowling the opposition out was the only way to secure victory.

FB realises that to his younger readers (he wishes) this all sounds positively medieval. Indeed they might be wondering whether there is a connection to the Declaration of Arbroath after all. But that is how it was – it was after all an age of subtlety and refinement. After all this is the era when Shud Uppa Ya Face topped the charts.

FB can remember these were difficult decisions and he had many factors to take into account. How many runs was enough? How was his bowling muscle feeling? His best mate had been on 49 for the last 3 overs – could he justify cutting him off and denying him that half-century? Would the tea urn be hot yet? It was an exacting test of leadership.

Inevitably taking the full 5 overs either way was relatively rare. Instead, skippers would aggressively declare with zillions of runs (well, 200 anyway) on the board and 1 over to go. The authorities, with the adrenaline of intensive modernisation coursing through their veins, abandoned this subtlety and games became limited overs games. As nowadays a side could win by taking no wickets. Life became less rich and interesting.

But at Test and First Class level, the declaration is still one of the possibilities. In fact every match presents 3 possibilities for declarations. FB reports further below on such an instance although outside factors explain the rash of declarations.  It is therefore a very rare occurence. But many matches have 2 declarations usually the indication of immensely benign batting conditions or a match curtailed by the weather. 

The object of the declaration is to maximise a team’s chance of winning and to put the other team under some pressure. Time left in the match must be balanced against the number of runs scored – Test skippers do not generally have to worry about whether the tea urn will be hot enough. Just whether their bowlers will be hot enough to blast through the opposition batsmen. Skippers can be bold – though they are few and far between these days and many declarations do not set a gettable target and the match dribbles into a boring draw. The wish to avoid defeat is the overwhelming priority.

Cricket lore is filled with tales of declarations that went wrong.  Or declarations that didn't happen or happened too late.  FB has room only to relate one.  This is one of the more notorious instances - what seemed like a very sporting decision came to be seen in other lights once the full circumstances were revealed.

Cronje facing the music

In January 2000, South African skipper Hansie Cronje  seemed to embody the best in sportsmanship.  In a rain affected match both sides declared their first innings on 0-0.  In their second innings,  South Africa reached 248-8 in their second, before Cronje called his batsmen in. England chased down the total to record a two-wicket win, with Darren Gough hitting the winning runs. 

Sadly, it became apparent some time later that all was not as it seemed.  Cronje had accepted money (and a leather jacket) from a bookie to ensure there was a result in the match.  Scandal and ignominy ensued.  Cronje met a tragic end; cricket is still fighting the fixers.  Tricky things declarations.

An inspiration

The ever wonderful Abbi Aitken-Drummond tweeted the other day to ask a simple question, 'Who inspired your love for cricket?'

It is easy for Fantasy Bob to answer that question - it was his father, for reasons that need not be explored here, known to all as Pater.  Pater passed away last June at the excellent age of 95, but the last time FB visited him he asked, as he always did, how FB's cricket had gone the day before.  FB had to confess, sadly, that his team had lost, but that he had won the toss.  Unimpressed, Pater took due note. 'Any wickets?'  'Didn't bowl.'  For Pater and FB this was counted as a long conversation.  There was no point lengthening it.  FB's father knew better than to ask about runs.

It was Pater who stimulated FB's interest from the earliest age - see the photo above. This is FB aged 4 facing up to Pater's extreme pace, which he obviously delivered while balancing the box brownie.  Behind the stumps is FB's elder sister (elder of 2 sisters that is, not elder than FB) whose career as a keeper never quite took off from this high point.  Stumps with bails at age 4!  It is all you need to know.

Now Pater was a diarist - not in the Pepys' class, but for many years he kept a meticulous record of every day's doings in tiny pocket diaries in precise handwriting. Cricket features from time to time.  In some years he regularly notes the close of play Test score.  One year he records dashing to the Oval to watch the Australians while on holiday in London.

But 1955 sees something else.  The diary reports that he has taken the game up again after a number of years absence.  Why, is never revealed.  Turning out for Aberdeen Grammar School FPs, he records the fixtures, and his own contribution to proceedings.

April 23 - FPs 85-0]  School 84ao.  Very slow scoring for school until the last two or three.
April 30 - FPs  102  Turriff 89.  I scored nil being bowled first ball!!!
May 5 Nets in evening - had an innings - bat has good spring in it
May 7 FPs 81-1  YMCA 75 ao Bought pair of batting gloves.  Did not bat.  Umpired.  Quite pleasant fielding though enemy batting was very slow.
May 21 - Gordonians 132-5  FPs 68ao I scored 4 - runout as other batsman did not move.
May 28 - Lads Club 76 FPs 79-3 Did not bat no need to.
June 11 - YMCA 61 FPs 56 I scored 2 not out
June 18 - Anchorians 84  FPs 85-9  Self 2.  Received ball in inside of right leg.  Huge lump.
June 25 - Hendersons 126 FPs 48-4 Draw. Leg not well due to lump received last Sat.  Did not bat.
June 30 - Did not go to nets.  The garden needed doing.
July 5 - Bankers 105-7 Insurance 107-1 Self 4.  Received knock on leg.
July 23 - Westburn 164-8 FPs 111-4 Draw
July 28 - FPs 152-9 Rubislaw Church 152-9  Did not bat for latter.

And that is the end of an obviously brilliant career on the field.  A level of achievement which FB has struggled to match. Whether he was not selected again, or chose not to make himself available under domestic pressure, or found the lump on his leg became a season ending impediment is not revealed.  But that was the end of active cricket.  After a few years, Pater took up bowling and played obsessively until well into his 90s.  From an active cricketer - of a sort - he became a passive interested supporter.  And FB was with him on every step of that journey.

All through FB's childhood there was cricket.  Pater's kit lay unused in the dressing-up box, the  gloves referred to above, rubber-spiked objects of mystery.  On summer Saturday afternoons FB and sister would be taken to Mannofield, the home of Aberdeenshire.  FB may have absorbed even then some of the subtle intricacies of the game, although his memories are more of getting skelfs from the wooden bleachers in tender parts of his young anatomy.  There was also the excitement of tea which was sumptuous as might be expected in the baking capital of the world.  FB's love of cricket tea had an identifiable and early origin.

Cricket books were prominent in the book shelves and FB leafed through many, fascinated by the photos of distant sunlit grounds.  On the numerous rainy days during childhood caravan holidays, they would play rainy day cricket, keeping meticulous scores.  But best of all, during the summer Test series FB and Pater would be home for lunch and catch the end of the morning's play on the TV.  They would be indulged and allowed to eat their lunch off their laps.  That is how important cricket was.

FB can still see those black and white figures performing their great deeds.  Trueman, Lock, May, Dexter....and many more.  The privilege of free to view TV ball by ball coverage was an important adjunct to Pater's interest.

Having moved to Linlithgow on retirement, Pater was also  a member for many years at West Lothian (now Linlithgow) CC and would wander to the the ground every other Saturday to watch and share a quiet drink.  Cricket was a habit, deeply ingrained and it rubbed off on FB.

Pater might seem an unlikely inspiration, but there are many forms that inspiration can take. FB is forever thankful to Pater for passing on this great love.  Sadly missed.