Hello Andrew
I am writing to invite you to persuade me to change my decision not to
renew my subscription to The Cricketer
when it expires with the December issue.
When I was six I was given the April 1966 edition of Playfair Cricket Monthly, and have read
at least one of that magazine, The
Cricketer, Wisden Cricket Monthly,
The Wisden Cricketer, or the new Cricketer every month since, even after
I moved to New Zealand 15 years ago. The decision to break this sequence is not
one I would take lightly.
Of the magazines listed, there is no question that The Wisden Cricketer was the best. Month after month it contained
writing of an astonishingly high standard; a must-read for the informed cricket
follower. Those parts of the magazine that were not exceptional were still
sound and often interesting; from cover to cover it radiated quality and high
editorial standards. It hardly ever annoyed me.
I don’t think that first-night reviews are fair, so I have left it until
the fifth edition of the new-look Cricketer
before commenting. But I can’t think of a sentence that describes the decline
in standards since then that does not contain “plummet”.
A closer look at the October edition will illustrate what I mean. First,
there is an interview with Alistair Cook, the first published since he was
named Test skipper probably, a scoop. The first three questions are OK, but
then we descend to boofheadery. “Do you give your sheep names…The Only Way is Essex…sweaty palms”. For
God’s sake. A journalistic open goal missed.
Then what do we have on page 17? Everybody who opened the magazine even
on the day of issue would already have known about Freddie Flintoff’s putative
boxing career. At first glance, I thought that the photo of him in training
just about justified it, but I read on to discover that the photo was six years old! To fill a page like that
is simply insulting to the subscriber. A couple of years ago TWC would have
taken the story and done something with it that was different. A few original
quotes at least.
The XI was a feature that I used to look
forward to. It always produced something that was quirky, or that I didn’t
know. This one could have been entitled “The 11 most-repeated press conference
stories you knew already”. Much of the magazine now comes across like this: a
frantic attempt to fill the pages with the first thing that comes to hand.
There are also the desperate attempts at laddish humour. At its best Test Match Sofa can be very funny in its
original audio medium. But you can’t just write that stuff down and expect it
to work. Being funny on the page is difficult. It needs talent and hard work.
If neither of those is available, better to give it a miss altogether. The same
and more so is true of the Swannipedia. Graeme Swann is a breath of fresh air
in the game, which makes this contrived drivel all the more difficult to bear.
Worst of all (we have reached the tipping point now) was the five pages
of blokes in dinner suits gurning at the camera (no captions to identify them
either, which is lazy) with more say-nothing writing around it. Playfair Cricket Monthly used to fill a
few pages of one edition a year with photos of blokes in suits at its annual
dinner. Even as a primary school kid I thought this was a rip off in a cricket
magazine, and I see no reason to change that view now.
There are too many pages on which the writing is bite-sized; gobbets
that tell us nothing. The county review devotes fewer than half the words to
each county than the equivalent feature two years ago (and the three pages of
would-you-believe it pieces that follow don’t count). The Test reports are
shorter, so are many of the book reviews and obituaries. You need to give
writers a bit of room.
Of course, not all is bad. Mike Selvey, Michael Henderson and Simon
Hughes are always interesting (though I can read Selvey online on The Guardian’s website whenever I want). The
piece on the 1954/55 tour was quite well done, but for outstanding writing, we
had to wait until John Woodcock on Alan Ross. Benj Moorhead is talented too.
Giving him space and his head in other parts of the publication would be a
start. The Game section is OK of itself, but I don’t play any more, so
am not interested in the fitness and equipment stuff. It effectively shortens
the magazine by several pages for me.
So, what I would like to know is what readership is The Cricketer now after? Am I correct in concluding from its
content that the future of the magazine been staked on uncovering a new market
among twenty-something blokes who emerge from the pub on a Friday night with an
unaccountable urge to buy a cricket magazine? If so, the rest of us will
quietly collect our hats and depart.
Your thoughts would be appreciated.