About 15 or so years ago something wonderful happened. I need to say up front that most will bore of this section. For most it will make no sense at all and will be utterly tedious. So if the going gets tough move on.
I was playing cricket for Harpenden CC a marvellous club in Hertfordshire. The town itself, where I lived, a commuter hub full of lovely houses great shops restaurants etc. Its cricket club whose main ground was a wonderful bowl at the entrance of the town beside a main road. Large crowds would park their cars, enjoy a drink or cuppa and watch a high standard of sport.
The club was growing rapidly and demand for pitches was high. Two council owned grounds, that were shared with the local school, were already being used and a committee meeting was called to see if another ground could be found. Apparently a local school ground where cricket was now a minor sport had traditionally been a place where the standards had been high. Reports suggested that below the rough mown school playing field there lay a gem of a ground. In recent years St George’s Harpenden has been often mentioned in the Rugby world as Owen Farrell, Maro Itoje and George Ford were all former pupils there.
Enquiries were made and an agreement was drawn up such that if the cricket club took responsibility for care of the ground then they could use it at weekends. The hope was the school would renew its interest in cricket and provide talent for the club. The main club groundsman was a miserable fellow. He took no notice of anyone else and in truth the pitches he provided on the main ground did the magnificent setting scant justice. As soon as the question who would like to take responsibility for the ground was asked I found my right hand shooting up.
Ever since our first tiny house with a tiny lawn and a very large mower, I had loved tending to grass. I had many mowers. I read extensively around the subject and my own lawn in Harpenden at the time had won an award in a local ‘open garden scheme.’ I told Liz who looked at me and shrugged. A hint of resignation in the movement.
The club contacted the ECB (English Cricket Board) and soon I was on my way to the local county ground to ‘go on a course’ with a man called Wood. The countries top groundsman. He had formerly been head groundsman of the best ground in the country in those days. The Oval. His job was to teach county and top club groundsmen that groundcare was a precise science and not an art. Lucky for me most groundsmen thought they new better, ours was not the only one, such that on this particular course there was only one participant, me. Chris Wood is a Yorkshireman. He struggled with my ‘back story’ but soon he realised I was keen to learn and he could not do enough to help me. I on the other hand was in heaven and I was the best pupil there could be.
Of course equipment is absolutely vital and in the case of a cricket ground rollers and mowers are the key bits of kit. The best are very very expensive way out of the reach of HCC so I had to find another way. Liz had a brainwave. One of Tom’s school mates and a rugby player too had a Dad who owns a motorway construction company. You will all know the name but I will keep it private here. I contacted him and enquired if he had any old rollers we could buy and I of course identified their purpose. The main ground’s roller was on its last legs and in the end we took delivery of two bright yellow rollers. Many miles on their clocks but still perfect for the job we had in mind. They had been serviced, given a lick of paint and even delivered on a low loader. Sooo exciting.
In the old days Town Councils would mow the grass verges. They would look very smart relative to todays ‘hacking’. Typically the machines would be a ‘Dennis’ and have a ‘sit on’ facility. I somehow heard that somewhere on the outskirts of Luton in an old farm building there was a man who ‘liked mowers’. I went round to visit him and could not believe my eyes. In an old corrugated iron shed sat an old man in a black overall with a woolly hat on his head. There was a large work bench with hundreds of tools laid out neatly. Best of all around the shed were around a dozen ‘Dennis sit on mowers’. All looking in good condition. “They made me take early retirement he said sadly. They outsourced the grass cutting. I used to be the council mower engineer and my job was to service these machines and keep them going. They have not been used for around ten years. I asked if I could keep them and the council were only too happy that I did. My mate the farmer brought them here and he lets me use this old shed. I could not think of anything else to do so I set up a little business servicing mowers and garden equipment. I don’t have many customers but it is what I know. It is all I know”
I told him of my project and his eyes lit up. He really was genuinely happy. ‘You can take the two best mowers and any time you need them servicing or you have a problem ring me up and I will be there”. To me it was like being gifted two Ferraris or similar. ‘Stan’ also provided a scarifier, petrol driven, and having learned my own house mower was a top of the range ‘Ransome Marquis’ he prescribed and fitted a sixteen blade ‘sports cutter” to it in order to ‘fine cut’ the square.-I told you this one was for the discerning.
Well over the next six months Mr Wood taught me about rolling, in order to manage the pace of the wicket. The best grass seed to use for the playing service and the outfield. How to feed it and make it grow green. How to cut it and and how to repair it after a game had been played. The main square was divided into ‘pitches’ and a strict rota of use was established. I was taught how to mark out the ground and even make sure that when the stumps were hit the actual pieces of the wood would cartwheel in the way all fast bowlers and spectators love. (just in case you want to know you thoroughly soak the stump holes before play).
In time out of an apparently rough ground a ‘gem’ emerged. Chris would turn up unannounced and make picky comments and criticisms. As most ‘normal groundsmen’ would bid him a warm ‘adieu’ at this point he was delighted that I was not only open to the criticism but thrived upon it. We trialed new grass treatment involving seaweed fertiliser financed by the ECB. We calculated the exact amount of top soil the playing surface needed for its Autumnl treatment and ordered it. He actually came and laboured for me. It was such fun.
Now this might seem far fetched but it is true. On the first game payed on the ground after many many years The Harpenden Cricket Club played a local rival. The ground itself looked immaculate. Stripes on the outfield the central Square immaculate and the actual playing strip a straw coloured rock hard surface. The Harpenden openers scored over 100 runs without loss ‘on a magnificent surface’ as I looked on with pride.
I spent may hours working on the ground going up and down on my sit on mower. Later on I was once asked to prepare the main ground for a special match, much to the annoyance of the regular groundsman who was however big enough to compliment me. As is often the case there was a disappointing element to the whole affair. The school did use the ground and I suspect over time produced players for the club. The Headmaster never thanked me. I imagine he saw a ‘groundsman’ on a mower and he thought me a little beneath him. Ha!
No matter what always take the trouble to thank someone who does something for you.
I will not write any more here as I know it is boring for most but if you want to have a beautiful lawn and you don’t know how, I do, and I will help you so get in touch. Interestingly if you ever watch cricket have a look how many county groundsmen fail to repair the ‘ends’ after play and leave them rough, sometimes for months. No wonder Mr Wood, who is still in office I believe, gets frustrated.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 