The eerie sight of cricket in an empty stadium

stories of poise under pressure.

Jack Robertson, a successful opening batsman for Middlesex and England, was batting at Lord’s in 1944 when the air-raid sirens erupted. The players and umpires all lay flat on the ground as they’d been trained to do until the danger passed. On resumption, Robertson casually lifted the first delivery over the boundary for six.

So much for your bombs Mr Hitler.

In some cases sporting events—the ODI series between Australia and New Zealand is one—are being played behind closed doors. I had my first experience of this eerie sensation when Australia comfortably defeated New Zealand at the SCG in the first of three such games. (The tour has since been called off).

I’m one who believes you don’t necessarily need a crowd to be spurred on as a sportsman; it’s the thrill of a close contest that gets the juices flowing.

Nevertheless it was a strange silence that accompanied scintillating boundaries and landmark scores at the SCG. The upside was the absence of mindless chatter over the PA system; it was good to enjoy a game of cricket where you could hear yourself think.

I had an inkling of what a spectator-less SCG would look and sound like, having played a Sheffield Shield match at the Adelaide Oval in 1963-64 that commenced on Christmas Day. There was only one spectator in attendance for the start of play between South Australia and Queensland and he was Nevill

Jack.

I knew of Nevill because he supported Glenelg, the club I played for and he was extremely knowledgeable in all things cricket and horse racing. As play got under way the South Australian fast bowler was Neil Hawke and he was confronted by Queensland opener Sam Trimble.

Hawke was often rattled by Trimble’s quirky batting style and on this occasion Nevill only added to the bowler’s frustration. When Trimble clipped a boundary the refrain from beyond the pickets was; “Sammy Trimble the dairy farmer from Lismore you bloody beauty.”

If Trimble picked up a quick single, Nevill would shout; “That’s the way Sammy, milk him like one of your cows.”

This was all too much for Hawke who snatched his cap from the umpire after an expensive over, whirled around in the direction of the sole spectator and screamed; “Why don’t you %$#@ off home Nevill and have Christmas lunch like everyone else.”

There were no such outbursts at the SCG but despite the absence of applause it was competitive cricket. The finish provided another unusual sight as opponents didn’t shake hands or hug but acknowledged each other in a variety of different ways from the recommended safe distance of a couple of metres.

These are indeed strange and difficult times but the priority is to stay healthy—a worthwhile objective.