French Travels, Cricket, Springsteen & Brief Encounters

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Taken from my French travel book ‘Off the Autoroute’ :

I was watching the English version of the Antiques Roadshow recently when it produced a blast from my past as well as reminding me of people we have encountered in France under the most unexpected circumstances. On this programme an old cricket stump was produced (if you are not familiar with the English game of Cricket you may have to bear with me for a while). This came from the most (in)famous series of matches ever played – the ‘Bodyline’ series of 1932/3 played in Australia between the host country and England. Leaving aside the controversy of those games, (the ill feeling still reverberates even today), one man produced an exceptional performance.

This heroic man, nursing a raging fever, rose from a hospital bed, defying doctors, to return to the stadium to produce the bravest match winning effort imaginable – the cricketer was the Lancastrian (my home county) Eddie Paynter. This cricket stump had the autographs of all the players and Paynter’s was second on the list just below the controversial captain Douglas Jardine. In 1969 I was a youngster with an enthusiastic interest in cricket, this was many years after this heroic feat. That September I attended the end of season games at the lovely Scarborough cricket ground on the Yorkshire coast. These games always traditionally ended the tour of a visiting country in the days before teams were constantly rushing off around the world to more lucrative fixtures. In this case the touring team was New Zealand. I had seen them earlier in the season at the Lords Test Match in London.

Being a cricket geek (still am), I, along with some other newfound young friends, spent several carefree days collecting autographs of the players, being invited into the dressing rooms, and having a really exciting time.

At one lunch break a couple of elderly men were standing in front of the pavilion. Having observed our activities, they called us over and gathered us together. With a twinkle in his eye one of them offered our group the other man’s autograph. Everyone looked bemused, but I knew who he was. This elderly gentleman was Eddie Paynter, the most famous of Lancastrians to me. I gladly accepted his offer, truly honoured to have met the man. But around me my young Yorkshire friends were still puzzled. They missed out, for he would not sign any more unless they acknowledged who he was. Even after seeing the autograph in my book, they were still none the wiser. I still have the autograph – a treasured, now framed, possession for a cricket lover. I will return to this at the end of the chapter – in France.

I am one of those people who seem to have a knack of coming across celebrities on my travels and this always amazes my wife. Unless it is that they are really looking for me! ‘From Hank (Marvin) to Springsteen’ to paraphrase Neil Young they always seem to cross my path. The number of times I will say ‘Oh, look its ………….’ I have lost count.

Two encounters stand out in France, and they are both involving incredibly famous soccer players. One was in Chateauneuf du Pape when this great French player, who is now an equally famous manager, was coming out of a hotel with his wife (possibly – well he is French) as I passed. I took a photo of him from a distance and my son later agreed it was indeed the said man but berated me for being a bit of an intrusive paparazzi.

The second time was in Paris inside the Gard du Nord station, when on a sweltering day this giant of a man gave up his seat for my wife. I did not tell my wife that this gentleman was an icon of French soccer but some years later he was a TV pundit on the coverage of a World Cup game. As she was watching I told her she had met him once. After a bit of thought with just the prompt of Paris she actually remembered exactly where she had come across him and the chivalrous moment – a bit of fun and a lovely memory.

So then, let us turn back to the cricket and Trelly. On that magical day in Scarborough back in 1969 it was the last day of the game, coming to a close with a sort of end of term vibe in the air after a long hot cricket season. Players who were no longer taking part in the game were relaxing – some more than others. A famous England player of the time was very chilled, happy, and boisterous, before passing out in a pavilion seat having partaken of plenty of excellent Yorkshire beer. For a young boy this was quite a revelation to see one of your idols in such a state of inebriation and it certainly would not happen today – well not in public.

Many years later, over 30 years in fact, I was in Normandy in the small village of Trelly, having had a superb meal in the delightful hotel/restaurant, La Verte Campagne. We were enjoying our after-dinner drink (Banyuls) when a party of four late arrivals announced their arrival behind us in the entrance to the restaurant. I did not see them properly, but they were clearly English, and my ears pricked up on the word ‘cricket.’ Anyway, next morning as I opened the bedroom door, I heard the opposite door also opening and there I was face to face with the emerging occupant. Yes, it was my famous beer loving English cricketing hero of yesteryear and such was my surprise that I could only stutter a faint ‘Bonjour.’ That night this group which included another eminent cricketer were seated at the next table to ours and I only had ears for their conversation which was all cricket related, especially tales of touring Australia and their recollections of great players. The food and talking to my wife were virtually ignored I am embarrassed to say, but such a great memory – France provides so many.

I am left wondering if really all these celebrities are in fact thrilled to have met ME. Does Springsteen recall excitedly the time he met Neal Atherton. I mentioned this thought to my wife but did not get a reply – well I did but it was not a positive one. By the way, the cricket stump was worth £10,000 – WOW!