The Summer of Cricket

Summer exists because of cricket, not the other way round.

Summer is here.

Earlier today I visited my old neighbourhood. There is a park there. And in the park, there is a netball court. For most of the year, the court is the scene of mini-football contests. 3-on-3, 4-on-4, that sort of thing.

However, every once in a while you see the local teens play a bit of cricket there. Often, it is when the Proteas are playing, that is when they are inspired to dig out their Shoprite and Crazy Store bats and tennis balls. They can’t afford proper bats and balls.

I spent a long while watching filthy spin with no precise definition and ugly batting techniques as everyone did their best to imitate their Proteas stars. One young man fancied himself to be Kagiso Rabada, and he was bowling some odd medium pace. It was quite entertaining.

They are not the only ones playing ‘international matches.’ It’s summer. Backyards are ovals and stadiums, and a wild shot breaks a window or two. Street cricket is at a peak right now. If you pay attention, you might notice teens shadow-bowling in supermarket aisles while they accompany parents on a grocery run.

Summer is here, and summer exists for cricket, not the other way round.

“Some people would sleep outside the Wanderers on the eve of a match,” Graeme Pollock shared with me when we were chatting about the Transvaal side of the 1980s, the Mean Machine.

Summers were the time for cricket. South Africa’s isolation from international cricket forced provincial cricket to grow and fill the void. Summer couldn’t be summer without cricket. Western Province and Transvaal were the two dominant sides of that era. It was their world and Orange Free State, Natal and Eastern Province were only visitors.

The highlight of the summer was always the Transvaal/Western Province match over the New Year. For that match, Newlands would always be packed for the full four days.

People of colour had no place in these provincial sides unless, of course, they were overseas stars like Sylvester Clark. The locals had to have their teams and a separate league. They had the Howa Bowl, which was contested across the road from the main stadia, in the shadows. While the white-dominated provincial sides played at St Georges, Newlands, Kingsmead and Wanderers, the Howa Bowl teams played at the Adcock Stadium, Rosemead, William Herbert, Curries Foundation Stadium, Lenasia Stadium and Bosmont.

It was free entry, and families would picnic around the boundaries as the teams competed. This is where people of colour spent their summers.

“Our EP team called it the ‘Rondomtalie’, our luxury bus,” Dev Govindjee, a former apartheid-era cricketer, fondly recalls the annual summer tours.

Boarding the Rondomtalie was always bittersweet. It took you away from family over the Christmas and New Year’s holidays, and it led you to contests with some of the best cricketers around the country. Every summer it was trips to Durban and Johannesburg.

For people of colour, summer ended with the North vs South contest, where the best players of colour from the northern provinces competed against the best from the southern provinces. That was their equivalent of the New Year’s Day Test. The North vs South contest is the closest players of colour ever got to a Springbok blazer. That is what the Proteas were called, the Springboks.

It didn’t matter that cricket was divided by politics and politicians, summer still existed for cricket.

But, some communities couldn’t afford to have a summer of cricket. In Soweto, where Geoff Toyana grew up, for example, they only played cricket during the school term. Especially in the late 1980s. The unrest of the time made it difficult for people to be excited about the game. But, kids still managed to play a bit of street cricket here and there.

“There was a lot of anger,” says Geoff Toyana, “and we were being accused of playing the white man’s sport.”

But that changed from 1991 onwards. As tensions eased, more communities got to experience the summer of cricket. Many more embraced the tradition. Cricket started to penetrate areas such as Soshanguve, where you are now more likely to find youngsters playing a game of cricket on an unused piece of land because it is summer.

It's now 30 summers of South Africans supporting the same team. It’s only right that the team touring on the 30th year since readmission is India. India was the first nation to play SA in November 1991. It was a hastily arranged tour that only happened because everyone wanted it to happen. Sort of like this summer’s series, it is happening because everyone involved wants it to happen. Otherwise, it could have been cancelled.

Western nations have cancelled tours for less. India could have cancelled after Southern African countries were put on the red list over Omicron. I am sure Australia would have cancelled, but India has been a good friend to South Africa. Nations not in the top three have been at the mercy of the big boys, and South Africa already has had two tours cancelled on them.

So, I am more grateful that there is international cricket this summer than I am unhappy with the lack of fans allowed at stadiums. I mean, summer without cricket is just a long stretch of hot days. It’s not summer. And it won’t quite be summer for many who depend on ball-by-ball radio commentary.

Radio 2000 commentary has defined the summer of cricket for many. It has accompanied well-off families driving to a holiday destination and has kept people without TV and online access in the loop. I ‘witnessed’ Temba Bavuma’s Test century thanks to ball-by-ball radio commentary. I was in an Uber, stuck in traffic.

It’s rather unfortunate that this year some people will miss the summer because there won’t be any ball-by-ball commentary on the radio. It’s the first time in the Proteas’ 30 year history that there won’t be any ball-by-ball commentary. Is this the beginning of the end of an era? It’s a question no one wants to ask, but it has to be asked.

The SABC is offering is a meagre six overs per session, 18 overs of the allotted 90 a day. They are only doing so after there was a public outcry over the decision to not broadcast by SABC. That’s not a lot, but c'est la vie.

For those of us who can at least follow matches online and on TV, only one thing could have made summer much better: the MSL kicking off the summer of cricket. An MSL final on December 16 would have been the cherry on top.

Anyway, summer is here, and summer exists because of cricket.

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