It was a case of the sublime and the ridiculous for me this week.

First the sublime. I played in a charity cricket game on Tuesday and loved every minute of it. It was very nostalgic to be in a dressing room swapping stories with guys like John Crawley, Graeme Hick, Phillip DeFreitas, Gladstone Small and Warren Hegg.

At the age of 64 it was nice just to put the kit on again - and the crowd was bigger than you'd get for Test matches in India or Pakistan these days!

Andrew Flintoff was the captain and I told him I was opening the batting with Michael Vaughan. I have to say that we're both staggered we haven't heard from the IPL since... don't they send their scouts out to watch for promising young players?

As you can see from the video, we comfortably dispatched of Akram and Muralitharan. I hit Murali for six and enjoyed a bit of mischief as it went straight into a bloke's car window.

My great mate Murali said afterwards: "Only two people have ever hit me in that direction... you and Brian Lara."

"Yes," I replied. "I taught him all he knows."

I had a great wheeze when I was fielding down on the boundary too. I can't see too well from that distance with my varifocals on, so whenever the ball came to me I just passed it to some of the boys in the crowd to throw it in. They loved it.

It was a great day and I was delighted that Grappenhall made a lot of money, which will help to improve the facilities at the club and also benefit both the Andrew Flintoff Foundation and the Candice Marie Roberts Foundation.

Candice tragically died from a debilitating disease, so it was nice that cricket could do something in her memory. Credit must go to Neil Fairbrother for organising the event.

How to ruin a day out

Now let me tell you about the ridiculous.

As you may have seen on the back page of the Daily Mail, I was manhandled out of the Old Trafford members' bar on Wednesday afternoon.

I was in there a few hours before the start of the t20 international looking at the pictures on the walls of the Lancashire teams of yesteryear, in particular at those of lads I'd played with who'd passed away.

All of a sudden, I was approached by three members of security and asked if I had the correct paperwork. I only had my Sky TV accreditation and despite being a life member of the club and a Lancashire captain of five years, I soon found myself being manhandled out.

They were extremely confrontational and right in my face. You can't call them stewards, I'm calling them bouncers because they're obviously used to dealing with drunks in nightclubs at 2am.

I wouldn't normally do this, but I pointed out they didn't know who I was. The bloke replied: "Do you know who I am?" and I pointed out he was quite incidental in all of this. I informed him I was a former Lancashire captain looking at the pictures - and if he needed proof I appeared in 19 of them!

On the back of their fluorescent jackets it says: 'We are here to assist you'. No you're not, you're here to harass me and make my stay as uncomfortable as possible. Why is it that when you give somebody an ill-fitting suit they think they rule the world?

I'm absolutely livid that these people can be allowed to operate in this way.

It turns out they were acting on the behest of Ian in Stadium Control, somebody who never comes out of the control room in his little tower.

All I can say is that this guy is doing a fantastic job in downing Lancashire Cricket Club. If you want to turn it into the most uninviting place on the planet then this guy is doing a five-star job. Why not promote him and send him round the country to make sure nobody ever goes into a cricket ground?

There was not another person in the room at the time, except for a few members of bar staff who seemed delighted to have a chat. However, Mr Stadium said the members were not allowed in until the gentleman (i.e. me) was off the premises.

What was I doing wrong? Do I smell or something? Did he think I was going to nick the pictures? I've got them all at home already!

They don't make it easy for us to do our jobs either. To get to the commentary box at the front of the pavilion I had to go through a 6ft metal barrier, scramble behind a makeshift sightscreen, climb over a dustbin inside the pavilion and then show my pass seven times in 20 yards - all to get to my place of work. That makes things very difficult when you're doing live television.

This needs to be made public because it needs to be sorted out. I've put my heart into Lancashire Cricket Club - you have an affinity for somewhere when you've worked there for 23 years - and Mr Ian Stadium Manager is draining the soul from the club. Lancashire is better than that.

If you want to ruin your day out at the cricket then employ this bozo. He's world class.

To Tweet again?

Finally, I'm contemplating a comeback on Twitter.

I've not made up my mind just yet, but I'm thinking about it - and if I do return then I won't get too involved with the cricket side of things.

My big problem with it is the bad language. I can swear with the best of them, but I do not like it in print.

I'm debating it. Watch this space.

back to top