Is not a cricket book. In fact, the parts about cricket are some of the more laboured ones in the book. Sandy Balfour probably has the same problem as most of us have, in that he is not able to articulate too well the deep love for cricket and his village green matches. He doesn’t do half bad with the internationals though.
However, this is a nice, well written, occasionally very-funny (in a stiff-upper-lip british way might I add ….. Balfour has left his South African past behind), sentimental (why, even maudlin at times) and slightly eccentric book about a cricket-mad father and his daughter and her skateboarder boyfriend. You will probably appreciate it more than me if you do have a daughter.
Fever Pitch this is not – as the jacket cover claims. But you don’t have to find a Fever Pitch in every personal memoir on sport. And I was not expecting a Fever Pitch when I opened this.
I rather liked the book. A pleasant, quaint, easy read, it pretty much unfolds like a test match – which is a good thing. Definitely readable. Three stars out of five.