Is this cricket?

Pope St John 1st. Wednesday 27th May, 2020.

I was reading the online diaries of various medics and nurses from the Lombardy Region of Italy. They have been through some deeply disturbing experiences. They have been exhausted beyond endurance, completely concentrated on their patients, have seen horrifying medical conditions and suffering and not been able to contact their families. They have been buoyed up by the fact of the emergency and desperate need of their patients and by the obvious support of the public and the sheer adrenalin of the situation.

However, as the emergency subsides so they suffer trauma as well as mental and physical stress and exhaustion.

I find myself crying easily these days. I continue to rage at the sufferings and injustices I see and weep at the horrors also. I find it hard to look at some of the Charity Appeals as the images of pain and desolation fill me with anger and shock. I have to face it. I will not bury my head in the sand. I will not turn away even if there is little I can do. These are fellow human beings.

I do however search out joyous stories also. These too can make me weep.

By chance today I pressed on 'German cricket'. My only good memory of my sporting incompetence was as the wicket keeper of the first team at my junior school. My brothers were superb athletes. I was more the dumpy, over weight, butterfingered, slow moving couch potato. Yet in later life I became President of my local Village cricket club. Not bad and huge fun. I have also attended International cricket at Lords and the Oval. I even sat in private boxes and was lunched by Presidents and Members. I boast but probably just liked the status, the people, the victuals and also the play, a bit! 

'German cricket?' I asked myself..'cricket in Germany?'

At the age of 15 Abdul Shakoor set out from Pakistan destined for England and cricket. He had a dream. He went through hellish experiences of travel, hunger, fear, terror and hardships...experiences which killed many of his fellow migrants. In Austria he heard from friends in England that he would not be well received and possibly deported. So he went to Germany. In an under 18 refugee camp at Regensburg he was fed, taught German and given a few euros per week. He sought out a cricket club and having just found one was moved to Weiden. His German lessons continued and he was trained in construction. He continued to search for a club.

Now fluent in German and other languages he also became a foreman on construction sites. He signed up to a club and this was a focus and plan for his week ends and a way to tackle his trauma. He is now a member of the German National Cricket team. This team is rapidly improving and is 'reaching world class status' according to the coach. How? Well, Germans of Pakistani, Afghan, Welsh and South African origin are part of the answer. A billionaire Afrikaaner married to a German woman is the sponsor. It is, for him, a business investment. Streaming cricket to migrant communities in Europe and America is growing exponentially. Already India and Pakistan are streaming the games and the team has entered international competitions. ' England no longer has the enthusiasm and Europe will overtake her soon' prophesied the sponsor. Certainly both the male and female German National teams are doing well. 

Abdul Shakoor has just returned to Pakistan to marry. He returns to Germany with his bride and with the prospect of first class cricket. We do not know what will happen next but I find the story riveting. It makes me marvel at the human spirit but also at the human costs involved as people try to follow their dreams. 

I wonder if 'it is cricket' for an Englishman to weep at this story? I hope so.