Someone once asked me: Halo, why the hell do you like cricket?
My answer was simple: if you are exposed to things early in life - i.e. dribbling and pissing yourself - then, often, these habits will happily last a lifetime. For me, that’s how it’s been with cricket.
You see, in the long hot summers of my very very early childhood, in order to make ends meet, my mother would disappear for days on end to a local holiday camp, where she worked as a chalet maid - or, at least, that’s what she told us. Luckily for me, being a very caring and thoughtful mother, before departing, she would always mix up a bottle of formula milk, mash up a small handful of Farleys rusks, strap me into my pram, chock up the back wheels so that I could see the telly, and leave me staring at something, I learned much later in life, was called a test match.
These days, I suppose the social services would charge my mother with child neglect, which I think would be a shame, because lying there in my own dribble and piss watching the cricket I was as happy as Larry*. Still am.
Anyway, that’s enough about me. More importantly, what do we reckon as to Hampshire’s chances of staying in Div 1 this season?